Elites, Masses, and Modernization in Latin America, 1850–1930 9781477305683

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E L I T E S , M A S S E S , A N D M O D E R N I Z A T I O N IN L A T I N A M E R I C A , 185O-I93O

T h e Texas P a n A m e r i c a n Series

Elites, Masses, and Modernization in Latin America, 1850-1930 By E. Bradford Burns and Thomas E. Skidmore Introduction by Richard Graham Edited by Virginia Bernhard University of Texas Press, Austin

T h e Texas P a n A m e r i c a n Series is p u b l i s h e d w i t h the a s s i s t a n c e of a r e v o l v i n g p u b l i c a t i o n f u n d e s t a b l i s h e d Pan A m e r i c a n Sulphur

by

the

Company.

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Main entry under title: Elites, masses, and modernization in Latin America,

1850-1930.

Two lectures originally presented at the University of St. Thomas in Houston in 1 9 7 8 , rev. for publication. Includes bibliographical references. CONTENTS: Graham, R. Popular challenges and elite responses: an introduction.—Burns, E. B. Cultures in conflict: the implication of modernization in nineteenth-century Latin America.—Skidmore, T. E. Workers and soldiers: urban labor movements and elite responses in twentieth-century Latin America. 1. Latin America—Social conditions—Addresses, essays, lectures. 2. Latin America—Economic conditions—Addresses, essays, lectures. 3. Elite (Social sciences)—Latin America—Addresses, essays, lectures. 4. Culture conflict—Latin America—Addresses, essays, lectures. 5. Industrial relations—Latin America—Addresses, essays, lectures. I. Burns, E. Bradford. Cultures in conflict. 1 9 7 9 . II. Skidmore, Thomas E. Workers and soldiers. 1979. III. Bernhard, Virginia, 1 9 3 7 HN110.5.A8E54

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R e q u e s t s for p e r m i s s i o n t o r e p r o d u c e m a t e r i a l i n t h i s w o r k s h o u l d b e s e n t t o : P e r m i s s i o n s , U n i v e r s i t y of T e x a s P r e s s , B o x 7 8 1 9 , A u s t i n , Texas 78712.

Contents

Foreword

A n n Q. T i l l e r

Popular Challenges and Elite Responses: A n Introduction Richard Graham

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3

Cultures i n Conflict: T h e Implication of M o d e r n i z a t i o n in N i n e t e e n t h - C e n t u r y L a t i n A m e r i c a

E.

Bradford

Burns

II

Workers and Soldiers: U r b a n Labor M o v e m e n t s and Elite Responses i n T w e n t i e t h - C e n t u r y L a t i n A m e r i c a T h o m a s E. S k i d m o r e

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Notes

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University of St. T h o m a s B. K. S m i t h Lectures i n H i s t o r y

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Foreword

I957 T H E FAMILY and friends of the late Benjamin Kopper S m i t h established the B. K. S m i t h C h a i r i n H i s t o r y at the U n i versity of St. T h o m a s i n H o u s t o n , Texas, i n m e m o r y of a former G e r m a n bellmaker w h o had an avid interest i n the history of his adopted country. Smith's o w n history is an A m e r i c a n success story. B o r n i n Dresden, Germany, i n I882, he came to the U n i t e d States as a young m a n and found work as a welder i n a railroad shop. H e soon rose to be welding superintendent o n the Pennsylvania Railroad. In 1920 he and an associate came to Texas and founded the Big Three Welding and Equipment Company. It was an eminently successful venture, and Smith's contributions to the H o u s t o n c o m m u n i t y were noteworthy. T h e B. K. S m i t h C h a i r i n H i s t o r y is a fitting m e m o r i a l to this m a n . It has enabled the H i s t o r y Department periodically to invite distinguished historians to the campus. In addition to v i s i t i n g classes and holding informal discussions w i t h students and faculty, each v i s i t i n g historian delivers a special lecture for the general public and the academic c o m m u n i t y . In I978 the H i s t o r y Department i n v i t e d two scholars i n the field of L a t i n A m e r i c a n history, D r . E. Bradford Burns and D r . T h o m a s E. Skidmore, to choose a subject of c o m m o n interest and to present lectures from contrasting viewpoints. T h e i r lectures were presented under the title "Popular Challenges and Elite Responses i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , I850-I93 o," and have been revised for publication i n this volume. E. Bradford Burns is Professor of H i s t o r y at the U n i v e r s i ty of C a l i f o r n i a at Los Angeles. H e is the author of a prizeIN

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w i n n i n g study entitled T h e U n w r i t t e n A l l i a n c e : R i o B r a n c o a n d B r a z i l i a n - A m e r i c a n R e l a t i o n s (I966). H i s most recent work is the revised edition of L a t i n A m e r i c a : A C o n c i s e I n t e r p r e t i v e H i s t o r y (I972, I977). D r . Burns holds the Order of Rio Branco, conferred by the government of Brazil. Thomas E. Skidmore, Professor of H i s t o r y at the University of Wisconsin, is the author of B l a c k i n t o W h i t e : R a c e a n d N a t i o n a l i t y i n B r a z i l i a n T h o u g h t (I974). A n earlier book, Politics i nB r a z i l I930-I964: A nExperiment in Democracy (I967), has been reprinted several times i n both English and Portuguese editions. D r . Skidmore is a past president of the L a t i n A m e r i c a n Studies Association. Richard Graham, Professor of H i s t o r y at the U n i v e r s i t y of Texas at A u s t i n and himself a distinguished L a t i n A m e r i c a n ist, served as commentator and has written the Introduction to the volume. H i s most recent books are I n d e p e n d e n c e i n L a t i n A m e r i c a : A C o m p a r a t i v e A p p r o a c h (I972) and B r i t a i n a n d t h e O n s e t of M o d e r n i z a t i o n i n B r a z i l , I850-1914 (I968, I972). Virginia Bernhard, the editor of this volume, is Professor of H i s t o r y at the U n i v e r s i t y of St. Thomas. Ann Q. Tiller Chairman, History Department U n i v e r s i t y of S t .

Thomas

E L I T E S , M A S S E S , A N D M O D E R N I Z A T I O N IN L A T I N A M E R I C A , I85O-I93O

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Richard Graham

Popular Challenges and Elite Responses: A n Introduction

informs the present. A s L a t i n A m e r i c a n s and N o r t h A m e r i c a n s m u t u a l l y explore their histories, they gain a clearer v i s i o n of their current differences and similarities. In the present volume two eminent N o r t h A m e r i c a n historians discuss hitherto neglected facets of the L a t i n A m e r i c a n past and, in doing so, almost inadvertently h i g h l i g h t — b y the evident contrast w i t h the N o r t h A m e r i c a n past—aspects of the U n i t ed States's formation that have not been sufficiently examined. U s i n g these essays we can make comparisons w i t h the N o r t h A m e r i c a n experience and thus learn more about the history of the U n i t e d States. There was a t i m e w h e n history consisted of the deeds of famous m e n . But i n these essays historians relate what ordinary people did and thought and h o w they struggled against their "betters." T h e stance of the elites and the masses toward each other i n L a t i n A m e r i c a today derives from these past experiences and w i l l doubtless influence the course of their future connection. O u r understanding of L a t i n A m e r i c a is thus significantly deepened by our attention to these essays. T h e U n i v e r s i t y of St. T h o m a s is especially to be commended for m a k i n g these papers available to a wider audience outside the confines of academia. Historians too often write for each other, but the issues dealt w i t h are too important to be left to t h e m alone. E. Bradford Burns here sketches i n broad strokes the cultural history of a l l L a t i n A m e r i c a i n the nineteenth century, revealing a penetrating knowledge of an enormous literature. He marshals his erudition to advance the v i e w that two c u l THE

PAST

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tures were i n conflict: that of the modernizing, Europeanoriented elite and that of the " c o m m o n folk" of m i x e d racial background w h o lived close to the earth. In addition, he raises the existential questions posed by the alleged progress of science and industry. Thomas E. Skidmore points to the emerging field of labor history i n twentieth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a and suggests the historical roots of today's exacerbated tensions i n that area. T h e torture, terror, and violence practiced by m i l i t a r y leaders today are put i n the context of a secular struggle of army against workers. A t the same t i m e he specifies h o w u n i o n leaders have been systematically co-opted and disciplined to serve as tools of the dominant classes. There are several similarities i n the two approaches. B o t h authors are concerned to note the failures of earlier historians to understand fully the complexities of the problems they encountered. Skidmore notes the recent rise of interest both i n L a t i n A m e r i c a and i n the U n i t e d States i n the study of labor history i n contrast to an earlier fascination w i t h only the elite. Burns suggests, at times more i m p l i c i t l y than explicitly, that historians have been too prone to present a " W h i g " interpretation, that is, too ready to concentrate on the innovative victors and too reluctant to note the force and significance of those w h o opposed change. Historians i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , Burns says, have been too ready to project a v i s i o n of the past born of their o w n upper-class position. L i k e Skidmore, he asks us to focus on the non-elite, the ordinary people of L a t i n America. Both writers are critical of the liberal developmentalism that characterized N o r t h A m e r i c a n t h i n k i n g about L a t i n A m e r i c a i n the 1960s. That was a period w h e n social scientists i n general, along w i t h policy makers, believed i n the poss i b i l i t y of steady and gradual change toward a p o l i t y modeled on that of the U n i t e d States and b u i l t on principles of i n d i vidual liberties derived from John Locke. Development came to be understood as part of a series of social, economic, and intellectual changes often s u m m e d up by the w o r d m o d e r n i z a t i o n . In contrast, L a t i n A m e r i c a n historians and social scientists were wary. T h e y saw modernization as Burns does

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here as only a "cosmetic" that did not include profound alterations of those inherited structures that benefited the elite. Skidmore points out that, as the 1960s wore on, N o r t h A m e r i c a n academics, l i k e their L a t i n A m e r i c a n colleagues, lost their b l i n d faith i n incremental change w i t h o u t rupture or conflict. T h e y m a y have been brought to this realization more q u i c k l y because they saw the ugly underbelly of N o r t h A m e r i c a n i n t e r v e n t i o n i s m i n L a t i n A m e r i c a and elsewhere: if m i l d reform w o u l d not work, U.S. policy makers preferred to support brutal repression than to tolerate radical change. Historians too long lent their voice of s u p p o r t — b y the conceptual tools they u s e d — t o the scramble toward modernizat i o n w i t h o u t sufficient concern for the deep structural shifts and accompanying social upheaval necessary to effect genuine change. A s Skidmore acknowledges, any real alteration i n the conditions of labor required reversals i n the power relations of society as a whole. Social scientists of the past decade reflected, albeit unconsciously, the desires of an A m e r i c a n r u l i n g class for a k i n d of change i n the T h i r d W o r l d that w o u l d i n crease opportunities for this class w i t h o u t threatening an established order. Whether our present heightened awareness of what was going on i n the 1960s can alter this push toward the globalization of capitalist enterprise i n any significant way is probably i n doubt; social scientists are not as influential w h e n they criticize the structure of society as w h e n they defend it. To extract the greatest profit from the essays i n this volume, the reader m a y w i s h to keep some questions i n m i n d . Burns, choosing to shun an approach that w o u l d highlight L a t i n A m e r i c a n class divisions, does not discuss what econ o m i c interests were served by those nineteenth-century elites w h o either turned to foreign-inspired progress for salvation or opted for the maintenance of traditional values. T h e reader may profitably ask this question and seek the answer i n the evidence Burns presents. Skidmore has focused his attent i o n on the apparent hate the m i l i t a r y directed at the laborers, w i t h o u t considering whose interests that a n i m o s i t y served. T h e army itself does not gain m u c h direct advantage from such an attitude. What class or classes benefit f r o m the sol-

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diers' stance? Similarly, if the U n i t e d States government has supported m i l i t a r y coups, have a l l Americans or only certain ones profited thereby? Both authors tend to see society as made up of two groups: elite and mass. Does this dichotomy cloud particular economic interests? Elites differ from nation to nation and from sector to sector and may even be divided w i t h i n themselves, but the concept of elites tends to blur the distinctions. Just as modernization has been discussed elsewhere as if a l l such processes were the same, a l l modernizers alike, and a l l modern societies basically identifiable w i t h each other, w i t h o u t considering the radical differences among them i n terms of class dominance, Skidmore and Burns i n these works tend to ignore the different interests served by various elites. C u b a n and Brazilian elites today, for instance, tend i n such radically divergent directions that the use of one term for both shows the frailty of the very n o t i o n of elites. 1

A related question is one of categories. H o w does Burns decide who was a member of the " f o l k " and who was not? Is it because they behaved a certain way? If he were to extend the time-frame of his paper into the period covered by Skidmore, w o u l d Burns discard from the folk those workers w h o applauded the spread of factory employment? In short, is the f o l k — l i k e the elite—too vague a category? Both Burns and Skidmore stress the role of ideas. Skidmore argues, along w i t h most other labor historians, that the w o r k i n g class i n early twentieth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a was m u c h influenced by anarchist ideas imported from Europe. But it is worth considering whether or not these ideas were chosen because they fit a particular situation i n L a t i n A m e r i ca. Similarly, L a t i n America's fascist solutions of the I930s and later—although on the surface copied from E u r o p e — m a y represent choices made by individuals who found t h e m consonant w i t h the needs of their social class. S i m i l a r preferences appeared i n the nineteenth century, and the reader may w i s h , when reading Burns's essay, to keep constantly i n m i n d w h o made these choices. Ideas do not have a life of their own, choosing where to go or w h o m to influence; it is real w o m e n and m e n who t h i n k and act. O n the other hand, ideas are

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important, and, w h i l e reading these essays, the reader may keep i n m i n d that ideas work i n m u t u a l relationship to society or to economy: sometimes they mesh, sometimes they jar. Burns is to be congratulated for w r i t i n g about culture when for so long it has been structure that has drawn the attention of historians. Meanings and understandings are as central to the historian as to the anthropologist, and such a focus is long overdue. Burns's treatment of culture nevertheless raises some particular questions. Is it fair to define culture as a set of ideas for the elite but as a set of beliefs and attitudes for the c o m m o n folk? Is there not an equally u n specified and u n w r i t t e n code operating for the members of the elite i n their daily life? If we examine not their books and speeches but their mode of interrelating w i t h others, even the modernizers m a y be found to be l i v i n g according to the norms of a traditional society. C i t y dwellers may also live i n comm u n i t y and not necessarily suffer anomie. Burns sees the elite from the "inside" so to speak, taking their statements at face value, examining what they said. But he looks at the c o m m o n folk from the "outside," and judges their thoughts on the basis of what they did, not what they said. Skidmore s i m i l a r l y examines only what labor leaders said, w h i l e he sees the workers as a group to be controlled and manipulated. T h e reader m a y ask what ordinary workers thought was being accomplished. H o w did they v i e w the employers? What did they t h i n k of the State? D i d they want a different k i n d of labor organization? Sources w i t h w h i c h to answer such questions are not as hard to find as both authors seem to t h i n k . Social scientists are increasingly finding ways of m a k i n g so-called inarticulate groups speak, and, as scholars continue to examine the culture of folk and workers, they w i l l probably find more change over time than is evident i n these papers. The reader may also ask whether we should not discard the conceptual scheme of modernization altogether, instead of doing as Burns suggests and merely turning our gaze on the opponents of modernization. L i k e Ferdinand Tönnies almost a century ago, Burns expresses a nostalgia for g e m e i n s c h a f t , for corporate c o m m u n i t y rather than atomistic society, f o r — 2

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i n Burns's words—the "well-defined moral order i n w h i c h each person k n e w his role and the interrelationships of indiv i d u a l s . " A s may m a n y of Burns's readers, I share his skeptic i s m about "progress," especially since i n L a t i n A m e r i c a it has so often meant that the lot of the c o m m o n people has worsened. But this k i n d of progress is not the only alternative to a traditional, nearly medieval society. Furthermore, i n the " u n i t y " and " h a r m o n y " sought by the nineteenth-century folk and i n the social w o r l d Burns portrays i n w h i c h there was a " m u t u a l devotion of leader and masses," the reader may see even more ominous signs. It is not surprising that the biographer of one of these leaders was M a n u e l Gálvez, the Argentine protofascist. To be sure, i n nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a there were efforts to m a i n tain a traditional society. Burns does us a service by bringing together accounts of these efforts, whose origins lie deep i n the history of colonial L a t i n A m e r i c a . But before readers give as m u c h approbation to these conservative forces as does Burns, they should ask where such conservatism led. Was it not precisely to the corporatist approaches of those twentiethcentury leaders described i n Skidmore's essay? In C h i l e m i l i tary officers i n the 1920s worked to bring about harmony between capital and labor through a labor code that discouraged "competitive u n i o n i z a t i o n " and "subjected unions to very close supervision by the government." Juan Perón i n Argentina i n the I940s and I950s and Getúlio Vargas i n Brazil a decade earlier constructed similar systems, not for individuals acting cooperatively to shape the direction of their lives, but for corporate bodies, of workers or employers or churchmen, for example, directed from the top down. One such corporate body—the a r m y — h a d since colonial times jealously guarded its special rights and privileges l i k e those of a medieval estate. A n d it is this corporate tradition that is s t i l l invoked w h e n soldiers n o w t u r n against workers. So today we face the heritage of that heroic nineteenthcentury struggle described by Burns: it prevented the spread of those forensic categories of thought characteristic of the N o r t h A t l a n t i c world. T h e undefined "people" and " f o l k " of Burns's nineteenth century are n o w the " w o r k i n g class" de3

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scribed by Skidmore, and they reap the bitter harvest of their ancestors' struggle against modernity. The r i c h l y provocative essays that follow raise issues central to our times. T h e U n i t e d States avoided the corporatist state described by Skidmore and foreshadowed by the groups studied by Burns. Is this not because the English-speaking world underwent a social revolution that culminated i n the bloody c i v i l wars of the seventeenth century (often called the Puritan Revolution)? But i n L a t i n A m e r i c a a society of estates did not v i o l e n t l y give way to a society of classes. Those L a t i n A m e r i c a n elites to w h i c h both authors refer d i d not spring from any such dislocating movement and did not, therefore, newly construct a set of beliefs and attitudes i n keeping w i t h the struggle of a bourgeoisie to capture power. In the nineteenth century these elites appealed to a v i s i o n of progress drawn from the N o r t h A t l a n t i c w o r l d w i t h o u t accepting the social implications of that v i s i o n . A s Burns notes, they did not undertake—nor could they have been expected to undertake — r e v i s i o n s i n the land-tenure system. Even their n o t i o n of the State was more i n keeping w i t h that of Auguste C o m t e — whose influence i n his native France was m i n i m a l — t h a n w i t h the democratic principles that were increasingly put into practice i n those very countries these elites sought to emulate. Simultaneously, some members of the elite even shunned modernization, preferring the p o l i t i c a l and religious traditions earlier imported from the Iberian peninsula or molded out of an A m e r i c a n past. In none of these cases were structural alterations i n society fully considered (although the complaint voiced by the people that, for the r i c h "there is no law, no judge, no p r i s o n " suggests that some were not u n aware of the problem). In short, L a t i n A m e r i c a had no social revolution. The capitalist industrialization that has taken place there sprang from very different impulses and could not fail to project very different results. By erecting high tariffs, L a t i n American governments have deliberately encouraged m u l t i n a t i o n a l corporations to invest w i t h i n their territories, b u i l d factories, and thus substitute locally made products for goods previously imported. Such a process required little structural change 6

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and merely consolidated the client economies and polities of L a t i n A m e r i c a . The major beneficiaries of the process have been the collaborating elites w i t h i n Latin A m e r i c a and N o r t h A m e r i c a n business interests,- little wealth or power has accrued to newly risen groups and v i r t u a l l y none to urban workers or peasants. T h e elite response to popular challenges has, on the whole, been f i r m and uncompromising. But today the power of those dominant elites may be waning. Evidence for this is the very intensification of their repressive action. In the face of increasing threats to their position, they seem demoralized and appear to lack s a v o i r f a i r e . N o longer is there unquestioned acceptance of capitalist models of development among the elites themselves. Intellectuals w h o once seconded the importation of these models n o w increasingly abandon that s i n k i n g ship. The best evidence of a l l is the very violence, sometimes brutal, sometimes subtle, that elites n o w require to hold workers i n line. A n d violence on one side stores up violence on the other. Where w i l l the U.S. stand i n such an eventuality? Is it not t i m e for its revolutionary heritage to reawaken? Skidmore and Burns, by raising broad interpretive questions about the L a t i n A m e r i c a n past i n these essays, stimulate our t h i n k i n g about the future—not only that of L a t i n A m e r i c a but that of N o r t h A m e r i c a as w e l l .

E. B r a d f o r d B u r n s

Cultures i n Conflict: T h e Implication of Modernization i n Nineteenth-Century Latin America

C U L T U R A L C O N F L I C T characterized nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a . O n the one hand, the elites, increasingly enamored w i t h the modernization first of an industrializing Europe and then of the U n i t e d States, insisted on i m p o r t i n g those foreign patterns and imposing t h e m on their o w n fledgling nations. O n the other hand, the vast majority of L a t i n Americans, i n cluding some elites but most particularly the popular classes, recognized the threat inherent i n the wholesale i m p o r t a t i o n of modernization and the capitalism accompanying it. T h e y resisted modernization, preferring their long-established living patterns to the more recent foreign novelties and fearing the impact of capitalism on their lives. T h e conflict between these groups intensified as the century matured because the elites became increasingly convinced that Europe and the U n i t e d States offered solutions to the problems they perceived i n their societies as w e l l as a life-style to their l i k i n g . In the ensuing struggle the Europeanized elites did not hesitate to repress v i o l e n t l y the opposing majority w h i c h clung to its preferences and, w h e n necessary, used physical means i n an effort to preserve them.

N o r t h A t l a n t i c capitalism engulfed L a t i n A m e r i c a i n the nineteenth century as the elites encouraged modernization. True, i n m a n y parts of L a t i n A m e r i c a , by the opening of the century a type of neo-capitalism already had penetrated and, under Iberian institutions, had long since influenced Indian society. T h i s neo-capitalism continued to shape at least a part of local customs as they evolved over the centuries. However, to a greater or lesser degree, depending on the area, the Iberian

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authorities had worked out w i t h the inhabitants of their N e w W o r l d empires a m o d u s o p e r a n d i w h i c h respected or tolerated m a n y local customs. If the local populations converted n o m i ­ n a l l y to R o m a n C a t h o l i c i s m , acknowledged the supremacy of Iberian monarchs, and supplied labor when needed by the Europeans, they were largely left alone. A l s o , they received a k i n d of protection from C r o w n and C h u r c h as w e l l as a cer­ tain m i n i m a l security from the local neo­feudalistic land­ owners. In short, a type of compromise had been reached between Iberian demands and local customs. L i k e most com­ promises it suited neither side perfectly, but both accepted it as preferable to other alternatives. A t any rate, the penetration of that Iberian neo­capitalism was incomplete and was by no means as challenging to the local populations after the i n i t i a l conquest period as was N o r t h A t l a n t i c capitalism after I82I, particularly after mid­century. Profoundly altering the concepts of land and labor, N o r t h A t l a n t i c capitalism clashed w i t h the practices and ideology of the L a t i n A m e r i c a n folk. The lands the folk once used, often lands w h i c h served entire communities and constituted a fun­ damental factor i n personal, environmental, and ecological relationships, became a c o m m o d i t y to be bought and sold. Lands w h i c h had succeeded i n remaining outside of or periph­ eral to Iberian neo­capitalism passed from c o m m u n i t y control into the hands of fewer and fewer owners. These owners often w i t h h e l d the lands from use, either as an investment or as one means of dominating a scarce labor supply, or cultivated t h e m to produce items w h i c h had little or no local use but sold profitably i n distant markets. By the end of the century, the folk had lost control of most of the lands they once had worked. Further, they were forced to sell their labor for a m i n ­ i m a l return to the hacienda and plantation owners and, under that arrangement, some of t h e m were employed only a few months of each year. A t the same time that land was concen­ trated i n fewer hands, the population rose rapidly, jumping from approximately 30.5 m i l l i o n i n Ι850 to 6 Ι m i l l i o n by Ι900. T h e problems caused by an expanding population and restricted landowning can be readily understood.

CULTURES IN CONFLICT

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Since the labor of these folk and their relationship to the land had constituted well-established patterns of behavior, the rapid and extensive change to commercial agriculture and to an export economy traumatized their lives. Relentlessly challenged by the export sector, the folk societies disintegrated. Each phase of modernization seemed to increase the pressure. Local c o m m u n i t i e s became a part of a larger, more distant, more impersonal, and more pervasive economic system to w h i c h the folk sacrificed their land, labor, and life-styles but from w h i c h they received scant benefits or none at a l l . Those changes, to meet the rising demands of distant metropolises, transcended the realm of economics and challenged long-established cultural values. T h e selection of cultural conflict as a major means of v i e w i n g the nineteenth century provides a useful guide for the interpretation of L a t i n A m e r i c a n history, but, l i k e a l l general theories w h i c h sweep across vast geographic and temporal spaces, it contains weaknesses as w e l l as strengths. For one thing, we k n o w far more about elite preferences than popular ones, and hence we tend to see the elitist v i e w of the past w i t h greater precision and w i l l continue to do so u n t i l more research better clarifies the alternatives. For another, it is difficult to generalize about the diverse peoples and m y r i a d events w h i c h compose a century of the history of such a varied area as L a t i n A m e r i c a . Nonetheless, the thesis of cultural conflict w o u l d seem to contain sufficient validity to provide a useful insight into and better understanding of a period of the L a t i n A m e r i c a n past w h i c h is confusing and seldom handled interpretively. Further, this interpretation of the first century of L a t i n A m e r i c a n independence helps to explain some of the major problems of contemporary L a t i n A m e r i c a , i n particular those revolving around questions of development. T h e first temptation raised by this interpretation is to see the cultural conflict i n terms of class struggle, w h i c h doubtless was present. But that oversimplification should be avoided i n v i e w of the richness and complexity of the m y r i a d events of nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a . True, generally speaking, those favoring the shaping of L a t i n A m e r i c a i n the

14

E. BRADFORD BURNS

E u r o p e a n - U n i t e d States image w i t h the attendant modernization and i m p o s i t i o n of capitalism were associated w i t h the upper classes, the socioeconomic and political elites. After a l l , they enjoyed the readiest access to N o r t h A t l a n t i c ideas and seemed best situated to benefit from modernization. It is equally true, however, that large numbers of the elites hesitated to embrace the ideas and ways of N o r t h e r n Europe and the U n i t e d States, clinging to the Iberian past and the A m e r i can experience. T h e interests of the traditional rural patriarchs did not always harmonize w i t h those of the merchants, bureaucrats, and other members of the increasingly affluent urban bourgeoisie. Whereas the economic inclinations of both groups might have dictated continued if not intensified exportation of agrarian and mineral products, the cultural preferences of the patriarchs and the bourgeoisie separated them. T h e former maintained a greater loyalty to the past, w h i l e the latter sighed for a Europeanized future. A l t h o u g h the masses swayed often to favor various positions, most of them evinced a loyalty to life-styles associated w i t h folk cultures, a t e r m and concept on w h i c h this essay expands later. T h e flexibility of the masses and more particularly of the elites confounds the class-struggle approach. Yet a struggle there was, and if not along clearly delineated class lines, then surely among cultural preferences. In its attempt to provide an interpretative thesis for nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a n history, this essay w i l l focus first on the faith exalted by members of the elites i n Europeanization and the modernization—or, to use the word they so often employed i n the nineteenth century, "progress"—which i n their eyes accompanied it. Second, this study w i l l consider the reservations and the alternatives of other members of the same elites, before m o v i n g to the more difficult problem of determining the desires of the greater numbers of the h u m b l e r classes, by far the majority, i n L a t i n A m e r i c a . In most cases rapid modernization threatened the more static folk societies, and as the thrust to modernize intensified, a clash between its advocates and the folk became inevitable. Violence emerged as a leitmotif of the nineteenth century.

CULTURES IN CONFLICT

The Elite

15

Preference

T h e L a t i n A m e r i c a n elites of the nineteenth century boasted of their European heritage, and even those w i t h Indian and/or African ancestors dwelt more on their European ties. T h e y understood what was happening i n Europe and easily discussed the latest ideas radiating from the O l d World, w h i c h they welcomed to the N e w . Generally speaking, three major European philosophies shaped their ideas during the nineteenth century: the Enlightenment, the ideas of evolution put forth by Charles D a r w i n and Herbert Spencer, and P o s i t i v i s m . Interconnected, the three found a c o m m o n nexus i n the concept of "progress," the key word for the understanding of nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a n history. Teaching the v i n c i b i l i t y of ignorance, the Enlightenment philosophers concluded that if people had the opportunity to k n o w the truth, they w o u l d select " c i v i l i z a t i o n " over "barbarism." Adherents to the Enlightenment believed i n a u n i versally v a l i d standard to judge " c i v i l i z a t i o n , " and the criteria for such a judgment were based on European concepts of progress. C i v i l i z a t i o n and the progress w h i c h led to it became identified w i t h Europe, or more specifically w i t h England, France, and Germany. However, a burgeoning faith i n science directed judgments on progress as w e l l as progress itself away from philosophical and m o r a l matters toward material change. T h e popularized idea of D a r w i n , that organic forms developed over the course of t i m e and represented successive stages i n a single evolutionary process, further heightened the interest i n progress, giving it i n fact a scientific veneer. Very propitiously, Spencer, w h o enjoyed tremendous circulation i n nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a , applied the same principle of evolution to society. Progress to Spencer signified a m a r c h toward "the establishment of the greatest perfection and the most complete happiness." However, that m a r c h subsumed a great m a n y economic changes and adaptations. A s one example, Spencer advocated railroads as a v i t a l part of the organic system of a m o d e r n society. A s another, he regarded industrialization as a certain manifestation of progress. T h e L a t i n

16

E. BRADFORD BURNS

Americans drew from Spencer the idea of the interrelationship of science, industry, and progress, a combination pointing to future glory through societal evolution. L i k e most European thinkers, Spencer had m u c h to say—racist statements, for e x a m p l e — w h i c h damned L a t i n A m e r i c a . The L a t i n Americans proved to be selective readers, however, and chose to ignore what displeased—or frightened—them. M a n y of the ideas on progress drawn from the Enlightenment, D a r w i n , Spencer, and other sources seemed to come together i n the form Auguste Comte's P o s i t i v i s m assumed i n L a t i n A m e r i c a during the last decades of the century. Posit i v i s m affirmed that social evolution and progress were i n evitable. To Comte, that progress was attainable through the acceptance of scientific laws codified by Positivism. Outward manifestations of progress—again, railroads and industrializat i o n — a s s u m e d great importance i n P o s i t i v i s m and emphatically so among the L a t i n Americans, whether they acknowledged C o m t e or not. Clearly those intellectual mentors satisfied the longings of part of the L a t i n A m e r i c a n elites to replicate European " c i v i l i z a t i o n " i n their hemisphere, w h i c h to their t h i n k i n g evinced a l l too m a n y "barbaric" Indian and A f r i c a n traits. Over the course of the century, the elites distilled a philosophical overview w h i c h approved European "progress" i n L a t i n A m e r i c a n terms. Politically, they required order to implement it. Economically, they adopted capitalism, w h i c h seemed to have transformed England into a modern nation, to finance it. Further, as the century matured, m a n y L a t i n Americans thought they witnessed i n the experience of the U n i t e d States a verification of the results of i m p l e m e n t i n g European ideas i n the N e w World. After all, the U n i t e d States once had been a colony too, and yet by mid-century it seemed w e l l on the way to modernizing. Certainly progress seemed obvious i n the p o s t - C i v i l War period, w h i c h boasted of the continental expansion of the railroads and the t r i u m p h of i n dustrialization. T h e elite attributed the success of the U n i t e d States to two factors: the preponderance of Europeans i n the racial composition and the adoption of European ideology, political as w e l l as economic. In short, the U n i t e d States rep-

CULTURES IN CONFLICT

17

resented i n their eyes the success of Europeanization i n the N e w W o r l d . Europeanization (or any of the synonyms or euphemisms: Westernization, modernization, or progress) meant to them, as the experience of the U.S. emphasized, the implementation of patterns from France, England, and Germany, since they ignored or deprecated Iberian and Mediterranean Europe as "backward." Some of the elites had initiated a serious and escalating questioning of some of the Iberian values during the last decades of the eighteenth century. It goes w i t h o u t saying that they were even more critical of Indian and A f r i c a n contributions to L a t i n A m e r i c a n life, if, i n fact, they ever considered them. Increased contacts w i t h N o r t h e r n Europeans, an expanding book trade, and more opportunities for foreign travel facilitated the elite's introduction to the ideas of the Enlightenment. A selective reading of those ideas buttressed the disenchantment w i t h Iberian rule and provided ready formulae for alternatives. T h e intellectuals flirted w i t h a p o l i t i c a l ideology complementary to local rule, w i t h economic ideas harm o n i o u s w i t h free trade specifically, and w i t h emerging capit a l i s m generally. A n i n c l i n a t i o n toward Physiocratic doctrine signified a willingness of part of the elites to continue the search for, as w e l l as the exploitation and export of, raw materials—the continuation of a well-established pattern of thought and practice w h i c h argued poorly for economic independence. M a n y of the intellectuals w h o questioned their Iberian experience w h i l e embracing various and sometimes contradictory N o r t h e r n European examples held important governmental posts after p o l i t i c a l independence had been w o n from Spain and Portugal, w h i l e others occupied secondary but s t i l l influential positions i n the nascent governments. T h e y found ample opportunity to put their ideas and preferences into practice. Intensified contacts w i t h Europe throughout the nineteenth century reaffirmed the conclusion reached by m a n y of the elites familiar w i t h the philosophies of the Enlightenment that the Europeans, particularly the English and French, had confected a desirable c i v i l i z a t i o n worthy of emulation. T h e 1

2

18

E. BRADFORD BURNS

opinion of José Avelino Aramayo, a B o l i v i a n visitor to the continent i n I877, that Europe not only represented progress but was needed to foment a similar progress i n the N e w World, typified the thought of most of the elites. Aramayo did not hesitate to praise those L a t i n A m e r i c a n nations w h i c h seemed most nearly to duplicate Europe. In truth, Europe's rapid industrialization and technological change awed most of the impressionable L a t i n A m e r i c a n cosmopolites, w h o clamored to replicate the process i n their o w n locality, to graft the novelties on the quite different political, social, and economic institutions and realities of the N e w World. T h e effort to acquire the outward or material manifestations of the "progress" they acknowledged as c i v i l i z a t i o n meant that, for these L a t i n Americans i n the nineteenth century, progress could be measured quantitatively by the amount of exports, the number of steam engines, railroad miles, or gas lights. The more the capital city architecturally resembled Paris, then i p s o f a c t o the greater the degree of progress the country could c l a i m . 3

T h e ideology of progress i n nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a was nowhere better expressed than by the vocal Generation of I837 i n Argentina. Perhaps the intellectuals composing that generation achieved a greater cogency i n their w r i t i n g because they felt they faced a powerful alternative to their preferences i n the Caudillo Juan M a n u e l de Rosas, w h o dominated Argentina from І829 u n t i l І852. T h e members of the Generation of І837 regarded their conflict w i t h Rosas as a struggle between " c i v i l i z a t i o n " and "barbarism," the d i ­ chotomy repeatedly invoked by L a t i n A m e r i c a n intellectuals throughout the century. In defining c i v i l i z a t i o n , the Genera­ t i o n of І837 identified the Argentina they intended to create — a n d i n fact did create—as a copy of Europe. In doing so, the members of that generation fastened on Argentina ideas, thought patterns, and prejudices w h i c h s t i l l remain. Associated w i t h the port of Buenos Aires, the members of that literary generation looked w i t h horror on the rest of the nation as a vast desert i n need of the c i v i l i z i n g hand of Europe. Buenos Aires w o u l d serve, according to their blueprint, as a funnel through w h i c h European culture w o u l d pass on its civ­ i l i z i n g m i s s i o n to redeem the countryside—if it was redeem­

CULTURES IN CONFLICT

19

able. M a n y of the elite finally concluded it was not and advo­ cated European i m m i g r a t i o n as the best means to "save" Argentina. In accordance w i t h the p o l i t i c a l views of the times, those elites aspired to govern Argentina by means of a h i g h l y restricted democracy. Esteban Echeverria s u m m e d up that aspiration i n his D o g m a s o c i a l i s t a (І838): Collective reason alone is sovereign, not the collective w i l l . T h i s w i l l is blind , capricious, irrational: the w i l l d esires; reason exam­ ines, weighs, and d ecid es. T h u s it happens that the sovereignty of the people can resid e only i n the reason of the people, and that only the prud ent and rational part of the social c o m m u n i t y is called to exercise that sovereignty. T h o s e w h o are ignorant r e m a i n under the tutelage and safeguard of the laws d ecreed by the c o m m o n consent of the m e n of reason. Democracy, then, is not the absolute d espo­ t i s m of the masses or of the majority; it is the rule of reason. 4

That statement w e l l represented elitist p o l i t i c a l thought, whether of that generation or later and, for that matter, whether of Argentina or elsewhere i n L a t i n A m e r i c a . Some decades later, as a further example, the B o l i v i a n Félix A v e l i n o A r a m a y o advocated an aristocratic government " i n the Greek sense of the w o r d , " "for" the people but not "by" the people. T h e experienced and intelligent w o u l d be expected to govern for the greatest benefit of the nation, an ideology complemen­ tary to the earlier beliefs summarized by Echeverria. N o t h i n g extraordinary resided i n the concept of the few governing the many, but s t i l l it could prove devastating if the few challenged or changed, intentionally or not, the preferred life­styles of the many, and/or if by m i s c a l c u l a t i o n the few lowered the quality of life of the majority. Beyond the confines of the Generation of І837, the Dog­ m a s o c i a l i s t a achieved neither the acclaim nor the influence of Civilizatión y b a r b a r i e : V i d a d e Juan F a c un d o Q u i r o g a by D o m i n g o Faustino Sarmiento. First published i n І845 i n C h i l e , where the future Argentine president resided i n exile, the book ranks as a major classic of Argentine literature. It also influenced generations of L a t i n A m e r i c a n s . Emperor Pedro II of Brazil acknowledged to Sarmiento the importance he attributed to i t . T h e book denounced a major provincial 5

6

7

20

E. BRADFORD BURNS

Caudillo, J uan Facundo Quiroga, who symbolized for Sarmien­ to the worst "barbarism" of the vast interior of Argentina. T h e author forcefully set forth the dialectic so dear to the hearts of the Generation of І837: the progress of the Europe­ anized city and ignorance, barbarism, and p r i m i t i v i s m of the countryside. T h e gaucho folk society repulsed Sarmiento, w h o observed at one point, "The nineteenth century and the twelfth century coexist, the one i n the cities; the other i n the countryside." Revealing a general schizophrenia notable i n the works of most nineteenth­century L a t i n A m e r i c a n intel­ lectuals, parts of the book can be interpreted as sympathetic portraits of rural life and of the typical gaucho types: the track­ finder, the pathfinder, the poet, and the outlaw. Still, Sarmien­ to could not accept the rural populations as the desirable na­ tional prototype. H e denounced t h e m for supporting the local caudillos w h o m they found representative. If they refused to accept the c i v i l i z a t i o n of Europe, then, Sarmiento advised, European immigrants must repopulate Argentina. Indeed, i n his last book, C o n f l i c t o s y armon ías d e l a s r a z a s e n América (І883), he demonstrated that he had imbibed the racist doc­ trines of nineteenth­century European social scientists to con­ clude that a racially m i x e d population doomed Argentina. A l l the more reason, therefore, to cleanse it w i t h "superior" Euro­ pean blood. Sarmiento represented an extreme but not u n ­ usual position among his generation by affirming his w i l l i n g ­ ness to bypass adaptation of European models for Argentina in favor of an exact recreation of Europe i n Argentina. Those forceful and influential theses of Sarmiento were neither orig­ i n a l nor isolated i n the Americas. A year prior to the publica­ t i o n of the Argentine's rural­urban dialectic, for example, Francisco Bilbao published i n Santiago his o w n analysis of C h i l e a n society, S o c i a b i l i d a d c h i l en a , w h i c h equated the countryside w i t h tradition and the cities w i t h progress. 8

9

10

The best­known Argentine novel of the nineteenth cen­ tury, A m a l i a , further propagated those attitudes of the G e n ­ eration of І837. Considered by many a prototype of Argen­ tine R o m a n t i c i s m , it appeared first i n serialized form; the complete novel was published i n І855. Its author, J osé Már­ mol, castigated the Caudillo Rosas as a tyrant, the fitting 11

CULTURES IN CONFLICT

21

representative of rural barbarism. T h e m a i n protagonists are drawn from the capital's aristocracy, European i n dress, thought, and action, i n sharp contrast w i t h the rustic sup­ porters of the Caudillo, w h o are depicted as the incarnation of evil. Further, an open racism characterizes the novel: the per­ secuted aristocracy is white, thus of pure European lineage and obviously " c i v i l i z e d " ; the supporters of Rosas are a dis­ agreeable and cruel lot of "mongrels": mulatto, mestizo, or racially m i x e d i n one way or another and of course equated w i t h inferiority and barbarism. A m a l i a , l i k e C i v i l i z a t i o n y b a r b a r i e and D o g m a s o c i a l i s t a , represented the outlook and mentality of a generation instrumental i n the shaping of A r ­ gentina i n the nineteenth century. Indeed, two participants i n that movement, Bartolomé M i t r e and Sarmiento, served suc­ cessively as presidents of Argentina, І862­І868 and І868­ 1874, crucial years i n the formation of that nation. T h e interplay of countryside and c i t y absorbed the atten­ t i o n of the L a t i n A m e r i c a n l i t e r a t i , w h o frequently made it a theme of their novels and stories. Accelerating urbanization was, after a l l , a major trend of the century, but also the asso­ ciation of the city w i t h progress was inevitable. T h e C h i l e a n novelist Alberto Blest G a n a treated perceptively the interplay of rural and urban cultures i n his M a r t i n R i v a s (І862). T h e young Rivas, innocent, even Puritanical, leaves the provinces for the city, where he is changed, " c i v i l i z e d " as it were. Blest G a n a m a y picture the n o b i l i t y of the countryside, but it s t i l l remains rustic; the city m a y appear corrupt, but it radiates culture. Subtly tracing the Europeanization of the virtuous Rivas, the novel depicts what appeared to the novelist and the reading public at the t i m e as both inevitable and desirable. T h e intellectuals did not have to be hostile to local or native A m e r i c a n cultures to advocate Europeanization of the N e w World. T h e i r o w n Europeanization blinded most of t h e m to any alternatives. T h e Peruvian novelist C l o r i n d a M a t t o de Turner exemplified this group. H e r A v e s s i n n i d o (І889), widely acclaimed as the first novel i n defense of the Indians, denounced i n convincing prose the abuse and exploitation of the Peruvian Indians. She expressed her reasons for w r i t i n g the novel as four: to call attention to the suffering of the In­

22

E. BRADFORD BURNS

dians, to urge the reform of backward conditions i n the Peru­ v i a n interior, to suggest the progress w h i c h must be made, and to help create a Peruvian literature. Appropriately, i n the preface to the third edition (І889), E m i l i o Gutiérrez de Q u i n ­ tanilla considered a major theme of A v e s s i n n i d o to be "civ­ i l i z a t i o n versus barbarism." Whereas the Spaniards should have introduced c i v i l i z a t i o n i n the Andes, they were responsi­ ble for enslaving and debasing the Indians, returning t h e m to "the barbarism of the p r i m i t i v e p a s t . " T h e Republic had the responsibility of redeeming the Indians through "education, employment, and e q u a l i t y . " Neither de Q u i n t a n i l l a nor M a t t o de Turner suggested that the Indians might find re­ demption through recourse to traditional native culture; both writers recommended a Europeanized future for them. 12

13

14

For M a t t o de Turner, the city symbolized the c i v i l i z a t i o n needed to regenerate Peru. M o r e than one inhabitant of the remote village of Kíllac affirms that the future lies i n the city. As the character M a n u e l remarks i n A v e s s i n n i d o , " A l l those w h o have sufficient means migrate to the centers of civiliza­ t i o n . " L i m a is presented i n the novel as such a center. Speak­ ing to two young girls on their way to the Peruvian capital for the first time, M a n u e l enthuses, " O h yes, L i m a ! There the heart becomes educated and the m i n d instructed To travel to L i m a is to go to heaven's antechamber and to see from there the throne of the G l o r y of the Future. T h e y say that our beau­ tiful capital is a fairytale c i t y . " If one could move on to a European city the satisfaction w o u l d increase. Fernando M a ­ rin promises to take his wife from Kíllac to L i m a and then caps his promise w i t h the announcement that from there they w i l l visit E u r o p e . A train transports those villagers from the rural past to the urban future. Fittingly, the train's engineer is an Englishman. W h i l e M a t t o de Turner v i v i d l y denounced the barbarity of village life and graphically portrayed the injustices inflicted on the Indians, she was vague i n offering solutions to end the debasement of the Indians other than migration to L i m a , a solution w h i c h resolved few if any problems for m i l l i o n s of Indians over the centuries. She expressed a firm and typical, although ill­defined, hope that some answers w o u l d be provid­ 1 5

16

17

CULTURES IN CONFLICT

23

ed by education, the most universally preferred s o l u t i o n since the Enlightenment, and evinced a general vagueness that somehow "pure C h r i s t i a n i t y " — n e v e r defined but certainly intended to be the opposite of the corrupt C a t h o l i c i s m she denounced i n the n o v e l — w o u l d uplift the Peruvians. O f course the religion M a t t o de Turner preferred was European i n origin just as the education she advocated w o u l d inculcate the finest European values. T h u s both religion and education w o u l d guarantee the cultural genocide of the majority. T h e conclusion deduced from the novel was that, if Europe had debased the Indians, Europe w o u l d also redeem t h e m . In her refusal to find any local solutions and her insistence on Europeanizat i o n of the Incas, M a t t o de Turner resembled Sarmiento. A l though nearly half a century separated A v e s s i n n i d o from Civilizatión y b a r b a r i e , the ideology advocating European solutions to local problems i n both books coincided. O n the other hand, a major difference, and it is a significant one, separated the philosophy of the two: M a t t o de Turner blamed Europe for the "barbarization" of the Incas just as she believed Europe w o u l d " c i v i l i z e " them. 1 8

T h e schizophrenia characteristic of the nineteenth-century intellectuals and consequently of their n a t i o n a l i s m was acutely apparent i n a writer-philosopher of the stature of E u clides da C u n h a . H i s masterpiece, O s sertões ( 9 0 2 ) , admirably translated into English as R e b e l l i o n i n t h e B a c k l a n d s , ranks as a major classic i n L a t i n A m e r i c a n literature, worthy of a place of honor i n w o r l d literature. Comte, D a r w i n , Spencer, and a host of other European mentors left their m a r k on da C u n h a , w h o faithfully included their ideas i n his analysis. Yet his book revealed a subtle questioning of those European theories, a daring stance for a L a t i n A m e r i c a n intellectual at the end of the nineteenth century. Indeed, da Cunha's m i n d must have been a t u r m o i l of struggle between sacrosanct European theory and his o w n perceptive observations of Brazil, so m u c h so that i n a later edition of his book he added some extraordinary footnotes indicating his i n c l i n a t i o n more toward observation of Brazil and thus away from exotic European theories. A s a journalist, da C u n h a accompanied the federal army

24

E. BRADFORD BURNS

into the sertão, the backlands, of Bahia i n І897 on the army's m i s s i o n to exterminate the defiant followers of the religious m y s t i c Antônio Conselheiro. That complex figure emerged o n one level as a leader of the m i l l e n a r i a n movement of awesome potential, and on another level he can be interpreted as an activist populist leader urging the poor to refuse to pay the new taxes levied on t h e m by a distant government. H e came to exercise a political, economic, and religious power whose appeal to the masses unnerved the elites. The state and federal governments, as w e l l as the religious hierarchy, regarded h i m and his settlement at Canudos as a threat to be eliminated promptly. T h e expeditions to accomplish that goal represent­ ed the cities i n their determination to subdue the countryside. A comfortable life i n the cities near the coast did not prepare da C u n h a for what he witnessed i n the interior. T h e different types of people, customs, topography, even the differently spoken Portuguese astounded h i m . H e felt that he had been transported "outside Brazil." T h e existence of "two societies" w i t h i n a single nation caused h i m to reflect at great length on w h i c h was the real Brazil. H e resolved his perplexity i n favor of the poor but strong people of the hinterlands, w h o m he eventually classified as "the very core of our nationality, the bedrock of our race." H e characterized their society as "the vigorous core of our national l i f e . " For da C u n h a the shock of discovering a new and different Brazil never dissipated. Some years after the publication of the first edition of O s sertões, obviously after m u c h reflection and no little agony, he reinforced his previous conclusions: 1 9

I d id encounter i n the backland s type an ethnic subcategory alread y formed and one w h i c h , as a result of historical conditions, had been freed of the exigencies of a borrowed civilization such as w o u l d have hindered its d efinitive evolution. T h i s is equivalent to saying that i n that ind efinable c o m p o u n d — t h e B r a z i l i a n — I came u p o n something that was stable, a point of resistance reminiscent of the integrating molecule i n the initial stage of crystallization. A n d it was natural enough that, once having ad mitted the bold and inspiring conjec­ ture that we are d estined to national unity, I should have seen i n those sturd y caboclos [backland ers] the hard y nucleus of our future, the bed rock of our race. . . .

CULTURES IN CONFLICT

25

. . . A s we m a k e our way deeper into the land . . . the pure white, the pure Negro, and the pure Indian are n o w a rarity. T h e generalized miscegenation, meanwhile, has given rise to every variety of racial crossing; but, as we continue o n our way, these shadings tend to disappear, and there is to be seen a greater u n i f o r m i t y of physical and moral characteristics. In brief, we have struck b e d r o c k — i n the man of the b a c k l a n d s . 20

Da Cunha's discovery disturbed most of the educated public, w h i c h s t i l l clung to its revered European images. Da C u n h a found himself i n an agonizing d i l e m m a over his admiration for the people of the interior and his European indoctrination. O s sertões weakened—although it consistently adhered to r e a l i s m — w h e n the author resolved that the city m u s t t r i u m p h over the countryside, Europeanization over Brazilianization. H e proposed education as a weapon more powerful than cannons to subjugate the rebellious backlanders to the city. H e found the justification for the war, then, to be the m i s s i o n to carry c i v i l i z a t i o n into the hinterlands. A t one point he wrote: 21

T h e entire campaign would be a crime, a futile and a barbarous one, if we were not to take advantage of the paths opened by our artillery, by following up our cannon w i t h a constant, stubborn, and persistent campaign of education, w i t h the object of drawing these rude and backward fellow c o u n t r y m e n of ours into the current of our times and of our national life. . . . O u r biological evolution demands the guarantee of social evolution. We are condemned to civilization. Either we shall progress or we shall perish. So m u c h is certain and our choice clear. 22

Thus, for a l l its nationalism and insight, O s sertões finally aligned itself w i t h the forces of Europeanization. D a C u n h a was a Social D a r w i n i s t w h o understood that the people of the interior, v i c t i m s of aggression and injustice, must succumb to the advance of "progress." By supporting the c i t y as civilizat i o n over the countryside as barbarity, O s sertões i n the final analysis bore a close relationship to C i v i l i z a t i o n y b a r b a r i e , although perhaps da C u n h a maintained an ambivalence u n characteristic of S a r m i e n t o . It was not the urban-rural dichotomy alone w h i c h pre23

26

E. BRADFORD BURNS

occupied most of da Cunha's contemporaries. T h e y viewed the question of c i v i l i z a t i o n versus barbarism i n racial terms also and subscribed to the European racial doctrines of the day w h i c h ranked the A r y a n and A n g l o at the pinnacle of c i v i l i z a ­ tion, w h i l e regarding the Africans and Indians as real obsta­ cles to progress. A mixture of the European w i t h either the Indian or black was regarded—as European social doctrine prescribed—as a sure condemnation to an inferior status. A leading cultural review published i n R i o de J aneiro i n І895 castigated the Brazilian "race," composed of the "backward" African, "decadent" Portuguese, and " p r i m i t i v e " Indian. T h e author's recommendation was standard for the times: "What we need is new forces, originating i n the strong and vigorous races w h i c h o n arrival here w i l l work by absorption to i m ­ prove our race." The Brazilian intellectuals put great faith i n the "bleaching process," the eradication of the "weak" Indian and A f r i c a n genes by the "stronger," more " d o m i n a n t " Euro­ pean ones. The theory may not have squared w i t h European anthropological thought, but it provided a necessary solution for the distraught Brazilian elite and, according to its propo­ nents, offered the surest method to reproduce European c i v i l i ­ zation i n their vast n a t i o n . H o l d i n g views harmonious w i t h similar hopes i n Argentina and elsewhere, the Brazilian intel­ lectuals despaired of remolding the local populations, and so planned to replace them. 24

25

T h e intellectuals of Indo­America demonstrated no great­ er understanding or tolerance of the Indians than their Bra­ z i l i a n counterparts did of the Africans. The huge Indian pop­ ulations of M e x i c o , Guatemala, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, and Paraguay embarrassed the intellectuals, who regarded t h e m as barbaric at worst and as c h i l d l i k e creatures at best. T h e Indi­ ans' disdain of European c i v i l i z a t i o n only intensified the sus­ picions of the intellectuals. Governments and landowners felt perfectly correct i n forcing the Indians to labor for t h e m under the rationalization that labor fostered contact w i t h the elite and thus exposed the Indians to the indubitable benefits of European c i v i l i z a t i o n . Whatever their professed p o l i t i c a l sua­ sion, the L a t i n A m e r i c a n elite seldom shied away from ex­ ploiting the Indians. 26

CULTURES IN CONFLICT

27

T h e M e x i c a n intellectuals vigorously debated the "Indian p r o b l e m " i n the nineteenth century, a debate w h i c h accelerat­ ed during the long government of Porfirio Díaz ( І 8 7 6 ­ І 9 І І ) , whose policies divested the Indian c o m m u n i t i e s of several m i l l i o n acres and literally enslaved entire Indian groups. T h e intellectuals divided over the intelligence and ability of the Indians as w e l l as the feasibility of integrating t h e m into na­ tional life, that is, m a k i n g Europeanized M e x i c a n s of the i n ­ digenous inhabitants. One side emphasized the potential of the Indians and urged the government to improve their condi­ tions. Intellectuals l i k e J usto Sierra believed that education and greater exposure to European ways, w h i l e rescuing the In­ dians, w o u l d transform t h e m into mestizo M e x i c a n s . To oth­ ers, however, the Indians constituted an insuperable obstacle to national progress; these intellectuals particularly decried the Indians' c o m m u n a l spirit and lack of i n d i v i d u a l i s m . Writ­ ing i n the І860s, A n t o n i o Garcia Cubas identified the Indians as the "enemy" of other M e x i c a n s and predicted that their "decadence and degeneration" could not be reversed. Decades later, Francisco Bulnes, the quintessential Social D a r w i n i s t , published his blunt and influential E l p o r v e n i r d e l a s n a c i o n e s h i s p a n o - a m e r i c a n a s (І899), w h i c h concluded that the racial inferiority of the Indians prohibited national development. T h e almost universally proposed solution to the "Indian prob­ lem" was the encouragement of European i m m i g r a t i o n w i t h the hope that the new blood w o u l d dilute the Indian. T h e de­ bates focused exclusively on whether or not the Indians could be Europeanized. T h e intellectuals saw no alternative. N o n e recognized that the Indians might want to draw on their o w n past rather than Europe's, and none perceived any attributes in the Indian c o m m u n i t i e s worthy of incorporation into the national ethos. 27

T h e ideology apparent i n the writings of most intellec­ tuals from Sarmiento to da C u n h a , and i n almost a l l the governments of nineteenth­century L a t i n A m e r i c a , bore a va­ riety of names: progress, c i v i l i z a t i o n , development, and, ret­ rospectively, modernization. Whatever the name applied, the idea was as constant as it was simple: to copy those aspects of N o r t h e r n European—and, later, U n i t e d States—culture

28

E. BRADFORD BURNS

w h i c h most struck the fancy of the elites, thus creating an imperfect and selective process of remolding their nations after foreign m o d e l s . A l t h o u g h technology appealed the most to the elites, they also aped certain life-styles and professed the values accompanying them. T h e intent of the elites was to graft onto L a t i n A m e r i c a the accouterments of progress rather than to accommodate new ideas and modes by reforming the basic national institutions. T h u s modernization was pursued w i t h o u t changing such things as the hoary labor systems. The abolition of slavery was as m u c h a convenience for the landowners as a humanitarian act, and the slaves were integrated promptly into other old and iniquitous labor practices. Railroads, to offer another example, became the symbol p a r e x c e l l e n c e of progress, w h i l e at the same t i m e they accelerated the expansion of the already well-institutionalized latifundia, further shifted the economy toward the export sector, and thus contributed to deepening dependency. M o r e often than not the old elites succeeded i n co-opting the potential leaders of the nascent urban middle class, w h i c h identified its goals more w i t h upper-class life-styles than w i t h meaningful reform of old institutions. 28

Throughout L a t i n A m e r i c a by the end of the nineteenth century the concept of progress as the emulation of N o r t h e r n Europe and the U n i t e d States triumphed. Ideological lines w h i c h once divided the elites blurred as the rural patriarchal elite fell under the influence and control exercised by banks, governmental regulations, marketing realities, and i n general the increasingly more aggressive urban elites. Indeed, the sons of that once dominant rural patriarchy passed through the universities to become the doctors, lawyers, engineers, and bureaucrats of the Europeanized sector. The r u l i n g m i n o r i t y relegated the majority, composed m a i n l y of Indians, blacks, mulattoes, and mestizos, to marginal societal positions. W h i l e the countryside was regarded as hopelessly backward, the r u l i n g — a n d increasingly urban—elites tolerated it, realizing that to tamper w i t h the basic rural institutions w o u l d threaten a system w h i c h , if not perfect, s t i l l could be manipulated to favor the elites. A t any rate, the capital cities w i t h their cafés,

CULTURES IN CONFLICT

29

theaters, operas, balls, academies, governmental intrigue, and Beaux A r t s architecture absorbed the attention of the elite and to an ever larger degree symbolized their nations to them. A n Elite

Counterpoint

F r o m the ranks of some intellectuals a warning sounded to beware of the u n c r i t i c a l aping of N o r t h e r n Europe and the U n i t ed States. T h e y cautioned that modernization should proceed more slowly, and be mediated w i t h Iberian and A m e r i c a n values, or they countenanced other choices, alternatives put forth, advocated, defended, but defeated. These intellectuals' positions merit scrutiny, since they constitute possible solutions to problems L a t i n A m e r i c a confronted i n the past century and i n most cases s t i l l faces i n the twentieth. T h e i r caut i o n assumes further significance as an expression, not always w e l l formulated, of political, cultural, and/or economic nationalism, a force to be reckoned w i t h i n the twentieth century. T h e deepening dependency of L a t i n A m e r i c a evident after mid-century alarmed an increasing number of the intellectuals and prompted t h e m to avert their eyes from Europe to reexamine national reality. T h e y began to perceive that the brand of "progress" their governments endorsed was at best cosmetic and at worst an instrument of i m p e r i a l i s m perpetuating their subordination to Europe. That realization posed new questions. T y p i c a l of their growing concern was the observation of C o l o n e l A l v a r o Gabriel Barros, an Argentine m i l i t a r y figure and intellectual w h o had had extensive experience administering the bureaucracy of the governing elite: In order to avert or cure the ills produced by the present crisis, we have recourse to and study analogous situations i n other nations of the world. O n c e informed of what was done there w i t h success, we take pleasure i n i m p l e m e n t i n g their solutions here, certain they w i l l have similar results. We do not take the opportunity or time to study our o w n country to verify if the conditions are the same here or if the causes w h i c h have given rise to the crisis are similar.

30

E. BRADFORD BURNS

These remarks revealed a disappointment w i t h those intel­ lectuals w h o k n e w far more about distant cultures than about their o w n national reality. Barros went on to criticize their concept of "progress" as one detrimental to the nation and beneficial to Europe: T h e ad vantages of the railroad lines, the telegraphic network, the artificial ports, etc., w i l l be real and great w h e n such works respond to the need s of our progress, increased prod uction, and enrichment. T o invest i n their acquisition huge amounts of capital w i t h guar­ anteed interest as a means of progressing and enriching ourselves w h e n at the same time we permit terrible and powerful agents ac­ tively working to exploit our riches is to ensure prosperity for other nations while acquiescing i n our o w n ruin. T h e y come here to crush us beneath their enormous w e i g h t . 29

Barros exemplified a sharpening challenge from the intellec­ ions of European dicta. T h e challenge revealed a growing pre­ occupation w i t h local socioeconomic reality, a reversal of the previous romanticization of the environment. It served as a springboard for a new nationalism. Fittingly, an intellectual once associated w i t h the G e n ­ eration of І837, J uan Bautista Alberdi, began by the mid­І850s to question his peers' concept of "progress" and b l i n d accep­ tance of European values. Alberdi's loyalty to his o w n federal­ ist convictions first had prompted h i m to leave the Argentina of Rosas i n І838 and then had precipitated his break w i t h M i t r e and Sarmiento i n І853. For the remaining thirty­one years of his life, A l b e r d i criticized the program of the m e n w h o advocated the rapid modernization of Argentina. H e boldly questioned the premise of those w h o w o u l d unques­ tioningly copy Europe i n his denunciation of Sarmiento's C i ­ vilización y b a r b a r i e as i n v a l i d . H e asserted that "Charac­ terizing the cities as c i v i l i z e d and the countryside as barbarian is an error of judgment and h i s t o r y . " The urban educated classes had behaved far more barbarously than the country folk, reasoned Alberdi: 30

31

There exists an ed ucated barbarism a thousand times more d isas­ trous for true civilization than that of all the savages of the A m e r i ­ can hinterland s. . . . T h e ed ucated barbarians of the cities have

CULTURES IN CONFLICT

31

eclipsed the rural caud illos w i t h their wars twice as long, twice as bloody, twice as costly and d isastrous as those of Rosas and Quiroga. Neither of those barbarians contracted loans for sixty m i l l i o n s of hard pesos, allowed the public d ebt to absorb half the national bud ­ get w i t h interest payments, levied taxes higher than those paid i n England, or allowed insecurity to reign i n the city and countrysid e alike.. . . 3 2

Contradicting the Sarmiento thesis, A l b e r d i argued that rural areas produced the nation's wealth, that the country folk had liberated Argentina from Spain, and that the countryside and the gaucho represented c i v i l i z a t i o n . " C i v i l i z a t i o n is neither gas nor steam nor electricity as those w h o are impressed w i t h exterior appearances l i k e to t h i n k , " he w r o t e . H e defined Argentine c i v i l i z a t i o n i n these terms: 33

34

If there is a part of Argentina w h i c h by its geographical and natural conditions represents c i v i l i z a t i o n it is that region composed of green, well­watered , flat, and fresh field s on w h i c h m i l l i o n s of ani­ mals roam. . . . T h e horse is another instrument and natural s y m b o l of Argentine civilization, as worthy as the river, canal, or railroad. . . . But the horse is a useless m a c h i n e without a skilled m e c h a n i c to operate it, w h i c h is to say without the gaucho w h o i n this sense represents c i v i l i z a t i o n i n Argentina. . . . O u r field s and our farmers cannot be classified as barbaric except i n books written by some­ one w h o d oes not k n o w what c i v i l i z a t i o n i s . 3 5

A l b e r d i assigned "progress" a new meaning, at least a novel one i n L a t i n A m e r i c a . W h i l e the Generation of І837 equated progress w i t h the copying of Europe, A l b e r d i believed it meant i m p r o v i n g Argentina to meet national needs through the use of national resources and m e a n s . It was a logical conclusion, w h i c h made "progress" a relative and not an absolute concept. Alberdi's defense of the countryside coincided w i t h the emergence of gaucho­inspired literature, a genre inspired by the folk tales and poems popular among the people of the pampas. It recognized the importance and legitimacy of local sources, vocabulary, themes, and style for literature. In І872, José Hernández, long an astute social critic w h o understood the difference between growth and development, published the first part of his magnificent epic poem M a r t i n Fierro; the 36

32

E. BRADFORD BURNS

second part came out i n І879. Bristling w i t h sharp social pro­ test, the verses exalted the gaucho, whose n o b i l i t y contrasted sharply w i t h the v i l l a i n y of the urban politician. T h e purity of the countryside had been polluted; injustice masqueraded as civilization. T h e poem sounded the call for a new C a u d i l l o to save the people:

For me, the tail is tenderloin and spine is filet, I'll make m y nest wherever I a m and eat whatever I find ; I'll go around meek as a l a m b and k n o c k o n any d oor. A n d Ι'll let the ball roll on, since some d ay it's got to stop; a gaucho has to put up w i t h things u n t i l that hole i n the ground swallows h i m up, or u n t i l some real m a n comes along to take over out h e r e .

37

W h i l e the Argentine literary establishment dismissed the po­ em, it enjoyed unprecedented popular success, going through edition after edition of thousands of copies each. T h e people obviously saw i n the poem a truth, a v i n d i c a t i o n w h i c h ap­ pealed to them. T h e y identified w i t h it, something they were unable to do w i t h the standard Europeanized literature of the elite. Eduardo Gutiérrez also praised the gaucho. T h e plot of his novel Juan M o r e i r a — f i r s t serialized i n a newspaper i n Ι879­ Ι880—turned on a theme similar to that of Hernández: the hard­working gaucho as a v i c t i m of an unjust society. In Ι886, the novel was dramatized to enthusiastic public acclaim. D r a m a historians consider its production as the origin of the national theater. As gaucho literature emerged, a few historians began to take a different perspective on the past i n the first, t i m i d chal­ lenge to the standard interpretations of Bartolomé M i t r e , V i ­ cente Fidel Lopez, and D o m i n g o Faustino Sarmiento, authors

CULTURES IN CONFLICT

33

w h o had lauded foreign influence and discredited the aspira­ tions of the people outside of Buenos Aires. T h e historical controversy w h i c h followed centered o n the figure of the Cau­ dillo J uan M a n u e l de Rosas, who, during more than two dec­ ades of power, had defied the Europeans, w i t h s t o o d French and English blockades, held a tight reign on the local elite, and enjoyed a genuine popularity among the masses. W h e n Adolfo Saldías published his three­volume H i s t o r i a d e R o s a s y s u época (Ι88Ι/Ι884/Ι887) and Ernesto Quesada his L a época d e R o s a s (Ι898), they brought into question some of the elitist prejudices w h i c h had clouded the perspective of gen­ erations of historians w h o routinely damned Rosas, conceding only that he had been the most powerful and successful of the "barbaric" caudillos. T h e new studies suggested a recon­ sideration of the past w h i c h w o u l d give added weight to native—as opposed to European—values and thereby assign Rosas a key nationalist role. T h e y set i n m o t i o n a heated debate w h i c h s t i l l rages over the significance of Rosas i n A r ­ gentine h i s t o r y . Some of the most recent revisionist exami­ nations of nineteenth­century Argentina conclude that gen­ uine national development took place during the Rosas years, w h i l e deepening dependency characterized the nation's fate during the remaining half­century. 38

39

After Ι865 some Brazilian writers began to examine their own nation more critically. N o t surprisingly, that concern involved t h e m i n national crises shaking the once­somnolent empire. A new bourgeoisie, taking shape as the cities grew i n size, felt strong enough to challenge the old rural oligarchy for power. T h e expensive and long war w i t h Paraguay, Ι864­ Ι870, the rise of republican sentiment, and abolitionist cam­ paigns w h i c h challenged the i n s t i t u t i o n of slavery excited de­ bate and prompted the rise and fall of several governments. Those crises stimulated literary production and were i n t u r n aggravated by social c r i t i c i s m from the l i t e r a t i , w h o increas­ ingly occupied themselves w i t h questions of national self­ examination. Sílvio Romero was one of the most s k i l l f u l analysts of Brazil. H e wrote prolifically, but no work exceeds i n impor­ tance his m o n u m e n t a l História d a l i t e r a t u r a b r a s i l e i r a (Ι888).

34

E. BRADFORD BURNS

Of lasting value, it remains as essential for an understanding of Brazil today as w h e n it was first published. Romero con­ sidered literature as a national expression and an integral part of society, an inescapable conclusion i n Brazil, where the l i t e r a t i played m u l t i p l e roles i n society. H e lamented that Bra­ z i l i a n literature and history had placed excessive emphasis on the elite to the neglect of the people, w h o m he considered the basic force of society. In an effort to relate the masses and literature, he published two anthologies of folk poems and songs: C o n t o s p o p u l a r e s d o B r a s i l (Ι885) and E s t u d o s s o b r e a p o e s i a p o p u l a r d o B r a s i l (Ι888). A l t h o u g h he had to deal w i t h European racist doctrine w h i c h influenced and w o u l d con­ tinue to influence so many Brazilian intellectuals, he boldly proclaimed that Brazil was not the exclusive product of E u ­ rope but the joint effort of Indians, Europeans, and A f r i c a n s — a truly revolutionary thought at the time. Romero was the first Brazilian intellectual to accord the blacks their just posi­ t i o n alongside the other races i n the construction of Brazil. H e had a v i s i o n of the future as w e l l as of the past. H e understood a reality w h i c h s t i l l eludes most: Before Brazil could develop, it w o u l d be necessary to reform basic agrarian institutions by abolishing slavery and redistributing the land. Such a realistic blueprint for the future required fundamental changes w h i c h the elite stubbornly resisted. True, slavery was abolished i n Ι888, only to be replaced w i t h insidious forms of debt peonage w h i c h neither altered the quality of life of the rural masses, nor changed the land ownership patterns, nor loosened the tight noose of dependency. Instead of a wider distribution of land, the succeeding generations witnessed an even greater concentration of land i n fewer and fewer hands. Romero cor­ rectly observed, as did J osé Hernández i n L a P l a t a , that agrarian reforms were basic to any effort to modernize and develop Brazil and to create a rational society. 40

A l t h o u g h himself under the influence of European ideol­ ogies of his day, Romero attempted to free himself so that he could see his o w n country through Brazilian eyes. Seemingly, he resolved the perennial intellectual d i l e m m a more success­ fully than Euclides da C u n h a . T h e perceptive da C u n h a was

CULTURES IN CONFLICT

35

to conclude that Europeanization was inevitable. A l o n g the complex spectrum ranging from A m e r i c a n i s m to European­ ism, he placed himself, however reluctantly, closer to Euro­ peanism than did Romero, who forcefully condemned b l i n d i m i t a t i o n of Europe and called for intellectual independence. Romero aimed his critical barbs at "the figure of the imitator, of the slavish and witless copier of each and every trifle that the ships from Portugal or France or any other place bring u s . " Advocating national introspection, he crusaded for a Brazilian literature w i t h its roots i n the people, one w h i c h w o u l d interpret the national environment, traditions, and sen­ timents. T h e major obstacle to such national expression, he concluded, was that "we do not k n o w ourselves." 41

42

Brazil's most perceptive historian, J oão Capistrano de Abreu, began to write at approximately the same t i m e as Ro­ mero, and his message was m u c h the same: Brazilian culture in its i m i t a t i o n of European modes was not expressive of the national soul. T h i s imitative culture, isolated from its o w n environment, did not represent the "conscious expression of the people." Capistrano de A b r e u revolutionized historical studies i n Brazil by t u r n i n g attention from the coastal band, w i t h its obvious l i n k to Europe, and examining the previously l i t t l e ­ k n o w n interior. H e presented his major thesis i n Ι889 i n a short but brilliant essay, O s c a m i n h o s an t i g o s e o p r o v o a m e n t o d o B r a s i l , the single most important statement on Bra­ z i l i a n history yet made. Neglecting the archbishops, generals, and viceroys w h o had populated the histories of Brazil to that date—even refusing to treat the official national hero, Tira­ dentes, w h o m he considered more the creation of the elite than a representation of the Brazilian people—he concentrat­ ed on the contributions of the masses, the meaningful period­ ization of the past, and significant themes i n Brazilian history. He wrote: 43

. . . In history we only point to the d ominant figures, those who d e­ stroyed or constructed , leaving behind a trail of blood or a ray of hope. We d o not remember the should ers w h i c h bore them, or the courage of the masses w h i c h gave t h e m their strength, the collective m i n d w h i c h exalted their mind s, the u n k n o w n hand s w h i c h pointed

36

E. BRADFORD BURNS

out to t h e m the ideal w h i c h only the most fortunate attained. A n d often the u n k n o w n person is the one whose cooperation was most vital i n bringing about the great event. 44

If the masses made history, it was the vast interior w h i c h constituted the true Brazil, the valid national reality. O n l y w h e n the coastal inhabitants turned their backs on the sea and penetrated the interior did they shed their European ways and become Brazilianized. Capistrano de Abreu's C a m i n h o s a n t i g o s contained a remarkable global v i s i o n of the Brazilian past w h i c h emphasized the themes of exploration and settlement of the interior, the creation of overland and fluvial transportation networks welding the vast nation together, and cultural diversity as w e l l as the psychological changes wrought in the Brazilian people. Capistrano de Abreu focused attention on the national heartland and the people who opened and settled it. Other intellectuals, scattered throughout the rest of L a t i n A m e r i c a , contributed their o w n insights w h i c h upheld local values and questioned the w i s d o m of further importing European c i v i l i z a t i o n . T h e Venezuelan R a m o n Ramirez can serve as an excellent example. W h i l e a professor at the U n i v e r s i t y of Caracas, he published a fascinating political analysis, E l c r i s t i a n i s m o y l a l i b e r t a d : E n s a y o s o b r e l a civilización americ a n a (1855). "European c i v i l i z a t i o n spawns materialism to the neglect of the spirit," Ramirez charged. W h i l e interested in the inventions pouring out of the O l d World, he concluded that material advancement had become an end i n itself rather than a means to advance public well-being. H e criticized the "democracy" being practiced i n the Americas as the rule of the privileged few over the many. Because European c i v i l i z a t i o n benefited the m i n o r i t y at the expense of the majority, the Americans must resist the temptation to copy Europe, the originator, after all, of the hemisphere's present problems, and create a new c i v i l i z a t i o n of their own. Perhaps, he reasoned, the t u r m o i l characteristic of L a t i n A m e r i c a since independence was the violent gestation of that new c i v i l i z a t i o n . N o t i m m u n e from European influences himself, Ramirez argued that the new A m e r i c a n c i v i l i z a t i o n should be based o n the 45

46

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37

C h r i s t i a n socialism he discussed at length i n the second half of his book. A l l i n all, he provided a useful analysis of the N e w World and suggested a well-argued alternative to the blind copying of Europe i n vogue i n Venezuela as i n other parts of Latin America. C o m p r o m i s e d already, these intellectuals, although wary of Europeanization, mediated acceptance and a selective adaptation of European values and techniques. T h e y understood the attraction of Europe, yet appreciated the A m e r i c a n experience as w e l l . Somewhat naïvely, perhaps, they sought to combine the best of both, and i n that respect they represented a third position between a Europeanized society o n the one extreme and a folk society on the other. In the last third of the century Ignacio M a n u e l A l t a m i r a n o i n M e x i c o and Joaquin V. González i n Argentina perceived their ideal society to be rural, well-ordered, and patriarchal. A l t a m i r a n o idealized a m o u n tain village i n his L a N a v i d a d e n l a s montañas (1871). A simple but good place, the village boasted of happiness, a high morality, harmony, and a patriarchal society i n w h i c h priest, mayor, school teacher, and village elders guided the local i n habitants. A t the beginning of the short novel, the narrator comments, "I had promised myself that I w o u l d end m y journey i n a s m a l l village of poor, but hospitable mountaineers w h o lived from the product of the soil and w h o enjoyed a relative well-being, thanks to their isolation from large, populous centers and to the goodness of their patriarchal customs." O n the final page, he has m u c h the same to say: "I myself forgot all m y troubles and felt happy, contemplating that picture of simple virtue, and true, modest happiness w h i c h i n v a i n I had sought for i n the midst of opulent cities and i n a society agitated by terrible passions." Nonetheless, "progress" had penetrated that m o u n t a i n village. T h e priest had introduced new crops, trees, and animals. A s m a l l grinding m i l l had freed the w o m e n from the metate. T h e villagers had b u i l t a school and hired a teacher, w h o i n t u r n played an important and influential role i n mediating further progress. To González, i n M i s montañas (1893), the rugged and quiet countryside w i t h its noble people constituted the "real," the " o r i g i n a l " Argentina. Interestingly enough, both Gonzáles and Sarmiento were 47

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from L a Rioja province, w h i c h both described i n their books. If Sarmiento denigrated both the province and the gaucho, González idealized them. If Sarmiento hailed progress, G o n zález revered tradition: "Tradition is also a force; it is created by the sentiment and passion of the social mass and by a c o m m u n i t y of interests; it is a historic and philosophic element w h i c h explains great events; it is the history of peoples w h o have no history, the customs of peoples w h o have no formal l a w s . " M i s montañas, l i k e L a N a v i d a d e n l a s m o n t a r i a s offered a quiet counterpart to the hosannas acclaiming Europeanization. T h e y can be read as nostalgic but symbolic descriptions of an idealized rural society, quaint reminders of the past to the modernizers. 48

These debates of the intellectuals—the majority enamored w i t h Europe, w h i l e a vociferous m i n o r i t y urged caution and occasionally offered alternatives—are easy to follow. T h e published views of the opponents are still readily available. T h e i r discussions, although emotional at times, were more often than not carried on pacifically i n the fashion of a formalized debating society. The views of some dissenters have been offered i n this section to indicate philosophical divisions among the elites themselves, but it must be reemphasized that those dissenters constituted a minority. T h e socioecon o m i c process, w h i c h the majority of the intellectuals endorsed, prevailed. T h e general philosophical harmony of nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a n historiography has preserved for a long t i m e the one-dimensional v i e w of that century. In the first place, shaped by the t r i u m p h of European ideas, that historiography treated the Americas almost exclusively as an extension of Europe. Relegating the Indian past to the anthropologists, "history" began w i t h the arrival of the Iberian conquerors and followed the transfer and growth of Iberian institutions. In the second place—and as a corollary to the first—the historians came from the ranks of the upper class or were upwardly mobile, w i t h aspirations to please and to enter that privileged class. Because of their o w n background, associations, and aspirations, as w e l l as their historical concerns 49

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and sources, the historians more often than not accepted the national i n s t i t u t i o n a l structures and approved the activities of the elites, from w h o m they selected representatives for their biographies. T h e s i m i l a r i t y they ascribed to the past harm o n i z e d more w i t h a class v i s i o n than w i t h the totality of experience. That "ideology of class" rationalized the institutions and the elites w h o controlled them, a justification w h i c h helped legitimize both and contributed to their continuity. T h e values and goals of that ideology served the elites w e l l as one effective means to coerce larger and larger segments of the population into accepting the i n s t i t u t i o n a l structures and social systems of L a t i n A m e r i c a , even though those structures and systems were more detrimental than beneficial to an overw h e l m i n g majority of the population. T h e historians contributed m i g h t i l y to the creation of a sense and feeling of nationality, albeit one complementary to the interests of the elites. In doing so, they successfully shrouded national histories w i t h a sacred mystique w h i c h has i n h i b i t e d broader historical investigations and even ridiculed the posing of some fundamental historical questions w h i c h might cast doubt on the efficacy of "modernization," "progress," and "development," not to m e n t i o n the national institutions themselves. 50

T h e exclusivity of L a t i n A m e r i c a n historiography inhibited the discussion of alternatives to Europeanization, excepting, as previously mentioned, some of the debates among the intellectuals themselves. For example, once the elites returned to power i n Buenos A i r e s i n 1852, they set about not only to eliminate the populist caudillos i n the interior and i n neighboring Paraguay but also to write history complementary to their actions, the official textbooks w h i c h nurtured succeeding generations of Argentine schoolchildren. Bartolomé M i t r e , both a prolific historian and an energetic president of the nation, subscribed fully to the elitist concept of Europe as the single source of c i v i l i z a t i o n . H e believed that the educated m i n o r i t y made history and should impose its w i l l on the ignorant masses. O n the one hand, as president, M i t r e opened the doors to foreign penetration. O n the other, as a historian, he shaped the past to suit his present ends. Leaders 51

52

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w i t h w h o m he disagreed he s i m p l y erased from the pages of history or relegated to inferior or negative positions. H e i n formed fellow historian Vicente Fidel Lopez, "We have almost the same predilection for great m e n and the same repulsion for the barbarian troublemakers such as [José Gervasio] A r tigas w h o m we have buried h i s t o r i c a l l y . " The task of disinterring what previous generations of historians have buried is not an easy one, and it is complicated by the fact that most of society never articulated i n w r i t t e n form its complaints, alternatives, or activities. 53

The Popular

Voice

Few studies consider the popular alternatives to the modernization pursued by the elites. Historians' customary fascinat i o n w i t h the privileged as w e l l as a lack of conventional documentation for the alternatives explain the silence. Because the overwhelming majority of the nineteenth-century L a t i n Americans were illiterate, they left few w r i t t e n accounts of their complaints, alternatives to Europeanization, or, for that matter, activities. That paucity of conventional documentation complicates but should not impede the search for popular preferences. However, it w i l l require p r i m a r i l y the mastery of new sources and secondarily a reinterpretation of some of the more standard ones. José L u i s Romero ranks as one worthy scholar w h o has attempted to come to grips w i t h the popular alternatives to the politics of the dominant elite i n nineteenth-century A r gentina. W h i l e more sympathetic to the process of Europeanization i n his study, H i s t o r y of A r g e n t i n e P o l i t i c a l T h o u g h t , he, nonetheless, devoted m u c h more than the usual token discussion to the countercurrent. H e termed the popular alternative "inorganic democracy," w h i c h he defined thus: But for m a n y reasons the provincials opposed the doctrinaire positions and the institutional principles of the enlightened group. T o these ideas the people of the interior opposed a profoundly colonial mentality and local sentiments, by w h i c h they demonstrated their new-born patriotism. . . . T h e people chose to obey the call of the caudillos of their class and of their o w n k i n d w h o sprang up on all

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sides, w h i c h gave support to a new authoritarianism that had some vaguely democratic characteristics, since, i n fact, the Caudillo exalted the ideals of his people and carried to power w i t h h i m a mandate to impose and defend their w i s h e s . . . . T h e creoles were accustomed to the enjoyment of i m m e n s e personal liberty. T h e desert assured t h e m that freedom, although at the cost of their total exclusion from public life, w h i c h was r u n by the cities. W h e n the revolutionary movement triumphed, the creoles wanted to transfer their feeling of indomitable liberty to political life, since mere obedience to laws appeared to t h e m to be oppression. . . . F r o m this u n l i m i t e d sense of freedom was born a democratic desire to have their o w n chief r u l e . 54

T h e rustic rurais described by Romero had evolved a life-style w h i c h provided t h e m w i t h greater equality, security, and well-being w i t h i n their o w n informal institutions than did the European pattern being imposed by Buenos Aires. N o v e l ists, such as Leopoldo Lugones i n L a g u e r r a g a u c h a (1905), also have attempted to d i s t i l l the essence of the meaning and function of those popular institutions, of w h i c h they i n t u i tively approve. A 1942 Argentine f i l m based o n Lugones's novel and bearing the same title opened w i t h a dedication to "Those Forgotten by H i s t o r y " and emphasized i n the spirit of the novel that the harmony of the people w i t h their geography forged the strength that defeated the Spaniards i n the Argentine A n d e a n region, 1814-1818, and guaranteed the independence of that interior region. T h e personification of those people was the C a u d i l l o M a r t i n Güemes, revered by the h u m ble m o u n t a i n folk but held at arm's length by the official historians d o m i c i l e d i n the distant national capital. T h e m u t u a l identification of people and Caudillo exemplified the "inorganic democracy" w h i c h Romero found characteristic of the Argentine interior during m u c h of the last century. What Romero termed "inorganic democracy" can be related to "folk culture," a c o m m o n way of life shared by the ordinary people, a general concept useful for the study of nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a . What distinguished the folk of nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a was their adherence to ideas and values formulated by the A m e r i c a n experience over centuries. W h i l e the folk drew cautiously and s l o w l y from European sources, they did not embrace the values and ideol55

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ogy emanating from E u r o p e — a n d later from N o r t h A m e r i c a — w i t h the same enthusiasm and rapidity that generally characterized the elites, the wealthy, and the aspiring middle class. T h e folk stratum found i n both the rural and urban c o m m u n i t i e s composed the largest part of preindustrial L a t i n A m e r i c a n society. Imbued w i t h long traditions, those folk cultures had undergone a variety of changes and adaptations over the centuries. To a greater or lesser degree, depending on the region, they drew from the Indian experience. For m i l l e n nia, the Indians lived i n hunting, fishing, gathering, agrarian, and village settings, modified i n large regions of the Americas by the rise of kingdoms and empires and the attendant influence of the socioeconomic system of cities and villages. Still, the Indian monarchs shared s i m i l a r customs, traditions, and values w i t h their subjects; i n blood they were one w i t h the people. Even after the trauma of the Spanish and Portuguese conquests, there existed some degree of tolerance w i t h i n Iberian institutions toward local customs, necessarily so i n remote and marginal areas. Nonetheless, powerful Spanish and Portuguese influences over the centuries reshaped the Indian societies. Those influences were even more pronounced on the Africans, w h o had been removed from their cultural environments. European peasant folk cultures were transferred to the N e w World as w e l l . A s the new L a t i n A m e r i c a n nations took p o l i t i c a l shape i n the first half of the nineteenth century, the governments, largely European i n spirit, confronted viable folk cultures w h i c h had amalgamated Indian, African, and European traditions. F r o m the vantage point of the Europeanized elites of the capital cities, those folk cultures and specifically the folk societies—organized groups of individuals characterized by a folk culture—stood as barriers to the creat i o n of the desired " m o d e r n " state, an argument w e l l summarized by Sarmiento. Folk culture was based on a c o m m o n language, heritage, beliefs, and means of facing daily life. It instilled feelings of unity, loyalty, and tradition w i t h i n the folk, more i n t u i t i v e than codified, although folk w i s d o m , folk poetry, and folk tales gave verbal insight into such feelings. In the nineteenth century, particularly during the first

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half, the folk culture thrived w i t h i n folk societies i n the countryside and i n the rural villages. Those folk societies comprised small, isolated communities w h i c h manifested a strong sense of group solidarity. T h e c o m m o n folk culture bound people together into an intradependent, intimate, and largely self-sufficient society—a well-defined m o r a l order i n w h i c h each person k n e w his role and the interrelationships of individuals characterized the folk society. That u n i t y of feeling and action accompanied a sense of h a r m o n y w i t h the environment to satisfy inner needs. T h e combination of unity, harmony, and satisfaction comprised the soul of the people. Education w i t h i n those societies emphasized the individual's relationship to the group and inculcated i n children a moral behavior honored by the c o m m u n i t y . In short, the result was to recreate i n the c h i l d the patterns of the adult. Education provided c o n t i n u i t y by passing on and m a i n t a i n i n g tradition. T h e incentives to work and to trade originated i n tradition, moral dictates, c o m m u n i t y obligations, and k i n s h i p relations. E c o n o m i c decisions took second place to social considerations. T h e system worked sufficiently w e l l to provide the folk w i t h employment, food, housing, c o m m u n i t y spirit, and reasonable satisfaction. Life-styles were simple; hardships were common,- the disadvantages were obvious, at least to the outsider. Such life-styles repulsed the Europeanized elites of the cities. Yet those folk societies seem to have provided adequately for their members. Modest as their standards of l i v i n g may have been, they deteriorated under the accelerating modernization of the nineteenth century, w h i c h first modified and then partially eradicated the folk societies. A n interplay between folk cultures and the Europeanizing cities always existed. W i t h i n the cities themselves, folk cultures, although not folk societies, thrived, characterized by a symbiotic Europeanization. Esteban Echeverria drew an u n flattering portrait of the folk element of Buenos A i r e s i n his novelette L a m a t a d o r a (written around 1838 but not published u n t i l 1871). N o t surprisingly, that vocal member of the Generation of 1837 decried the urban folk as a threat to Europeanization. Under pressures from the Europeanized elites, 56

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w h o succeeded i n effecting economic growth, urbanization, industrialization, and modernization i n some parts of L a t i n A m e r i c a , the folk societies diminished, although the folk cultures, as i n the past, accommodated to m u c h of the change and continued to exist i n forms distinct from those earlier i n the century. Some of the leaders selected by the folk played significant roles i n regional and national life. The folk expected any leader to represent and strengthen their unity, express their soul, and increase their harmony, i n short, to be as one w i t h the people he led. Nineteenth-century history, particularly the first half, abounds w i t h such leaders, often referred to as caud i l l o s — a l t h o u g h , of course, not all caudillos were folk leaders. T h e popularity of such caudillos is undeniable. T h e i r governments rested on a base of folk culture, drew support and inspiration from the folk, and expressed, however vaguely, their style of living. Under the leadership of such caudillos, the masses felt far more identification w i t h government than they ever did under the imported political solutions advocated by the intellectuals and the elites. Juan Bautista Alberdi, more than anyone else i n the nineteenth century, studied the psychology of the relationship of popular caudillos w i t h the masses, and he concluded that the people regarded a popular C a u d i l l o as "guardian of their traditions," the defender of their way of l i f e . H e insisted that such leaders constituted "the w i l l of the popular masses.. . . the immediate organ and a r m of the p e o p l e . . . the caudillos are democracy." H e reiterated frequently i n his w r i t i n g the equation of the popular Caudillo w i t h democracy: 57

58

T h u s , the system of caudillos appears i n A m e r i c a i n the form of democracy and together they develop and progress. Artigas, Lopez, Güemes, Quiroga, Rosas, Peñaloza, as chiefs, heads, and authorities are the product of the people, their most spontaneous and genuine personification. Without any other authorization than that, without finances, without resources, they have guided the people w i t h more power than the governments possess. 59

In his biography of Aparicio Saravia, M a n u e l Gálvez noted that Saravia's death i n 1904, during his struggle against Presi-

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dent José Batlle of Uruguay, the city, and foreign influence, marked the end of the era of the Caudillo on horseback i n the Americas. Gálvez tried to d i s t i l l what Saravia represented and concluded that he personified gaucho liberty, Iberian and R o m a n C a t h o l i c tradition, nationalist sentiments, distrust of foreign influence, an order based on hierarchy, and respect for moral values. In short, Saravia incarnated what was Spanish and profoundly A m e r i c a n i n the Uruguayan people. H e w e l l represented the not unusual alliance of folk and landlords who shared traditional rural values and were cautious of urban and foreign ways. Such alliances obviously crossed class lines, reemphasizing the cultural nature of this nineteenthcentury conflict. The hazy class lines complicate the applicat i o n of customary p o l i t i c a l labels to those alliances, since the folk favored c o m m u n i t y arrangements w h i c h might suggest a rustic socialism, w h i l e the landlords represented, depending on one's viewpoint, a type of neo-feudalism or p a t r i m o n i a l i s m or neo-capitalism. 60

Argentine history offers excellent examples of popular and populist caudillos: Juan Facundo Quiroga, M a r t i n Güemes, and A n g e l Vicente Peñaloza, to m e n t i o n only a few obvious ones. Certainly the Caudillo of greatest import was Juan M a n u e l de Rosas, who, i n one way or another, dominated Argentina from 1829 u n t i l 1852. T h e masses demonstrated their loyalty by their willingness to fight for h i m during nearl y a quarter of a century. Rosas suffered defeat and exile only w h e n the elites enlisted the Brazilian army to unite w i t h t h e m to overthrow h i m . T h e concepts of these caudillos as the popular leaders of the masses and of the m u t u a l devotion of leader and masses were as difficult for most of the Europeanized elite to accept as were the popular leaders. T h e identification of the masses w i t h Rosas explains i n part the negative role assigned that Caudillo i n official Argentine historiography as w e l l as the historical obscurity to w h i c h a dozen local leaders have been banished. T w o other examples of the popular Caudillo exercising national power were José Gaspar Rodriguez de Francia of Paraguay (1814-1840) and Rafael Carrera of Guatemala (18391865). T h e i r governments rested solidly on a base of folk 61

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culture, drew support and inspiration from the people, and expressed, however vaguely, their style of life. T h e Indian majorities of Paraguay and Guatemala felt they benefited from such popular governments and identified w i t h the governments of Francia and Carrera. T h e sources for the study of an alternative history, that of the folk rather than the well-documented history of the elites, have survived to some degree i n folklore. Argentine folklore, for example, including gaucho poetry, offers evidence of popular support for "inorganic democracy," w i t h the local caudillos regarded as the defenders of the people's rights and preferences. W h i l e praising the rustic virtues of the countryside, the folklore denigrated the cities, filled w i t h foreigners and subject to European influences. True, critics detect a defense of the neo-feudalism w h i c h to them characterized parts of the countryside, but another aspect of the rural area was the opportunity for the gaucho to acquire his o w n string of ponies and herd of cattle, thus demonstrating a social m o b i l i t y and flexibility contrary to feudalism as w e l l as unusual later under Argentine capitalism. A l s o , the great space and isolation of the pampas engendered freedom and i n d i v i d u a l i t y among the gauchos. Certainly u n t i l mid-century an informality of relationships existed i n the pampas w h i c h the integrat i o n of Argentine beef and wheat into the w o r l d market later destroyed. M u c h of the pertinent folklore reminisces nostalgically about that informality. T h e large Indian population of L a t i n A m e r i c a tenaciously resisted the efforts to Europeanize them. T h e Indians constituted a majority i n fully a third of the nations during the nineteenth century and a sizable m i n o r i t y i n m a n y of the others. T h e y showed every evidence of preferring their o w n customs to those of the distant metropolis or the isolated capital city and their c o m m u n a l life to the new nation-state. They refused to dress l i k e Europeans. W h i l e acknowledging R o m a n Cat h o l i c i s m , they often retained vestiges of their o w n religion, establishing a syncretism w h i c h i n some cases infiltrated the European community. T h e y participated i n the local, not the national, economy. T h e y revered their o w n values and ignored those radiating from Europe. In fact, they often juxta62

63

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47

posed their o w n w i s d o m and the official values. F r o m the capital city may have reverberated through the constitution and laws such echoes of the Enlightenment as " A l l m e n are created equal," but local w i s d o m noted i n proverbs, "For the r i c h who robs the garden there is no law, no judge, no prison; but if a poor m a n steals a crumb the thief goes to j a i l . " Brazilian folk narrative, derived from Ibero-Afro-Amerindian sources, identified the r i c h as "bad" and the society d o m i nated by the wealthy as a " w o r l d apart" i n w h i c h the poor could not hope to occupy anything but a subservient position. 6 5

66

The M e x i c a n c o r r i d o s also commented on social distinctions, attacking the morals, habits, and dress of the elite. Significantly those corridos emphasized violence and thereby contributed to the conclusion that violence was one of the most notable characteristics of nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a . A s an intricate part of M e x i c a n life, "of, by, and for the p u e b l o , " the corridos offer a magnificent insight into the popular m i n d as w e l l as important historical documents for the study of the masses. T h e otherwise elusive public opini o n they preserve proves to be radically different from the better-known ideology of the elite. Apparently the folk poets were splendid representatives of the people. T h e i r poems provided a m a t r i x of homogeneity and c o m m o n identification for the masses over a broad geographic area, thereby imparting a solidarity comparable to the well-forged u n i t y of the elites w i t h their standardized ideology. Passive resistance often gave way to rebellion as the Indians demonstrated their willingness to defend their way of life from further inroads of Europeanization. Since official historiography has been reluctant to recognize popular wrath and to discuss the i m p l i c a t i o n s of it, l i t t l e attention has been given to Indian resistance and alternatives. G u a t e m a l a provides a handy and useful example of Indian resistance and temporary success as w e l l as the subsequent silence accorded it i n the history texts. A t mid-century the population of G u a t e m a l a numbered less than a m i l l i o n . T h e overwhelming majority was Indian, n o m i n a l l y R o m a n Catholic, non-Spanish-speaking, and m i n 67

68

69

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i m a l l y influenced by three centuries of Spanish rule. T h e Spaniards had respected m u c h of the indigenous culture. However, independence i n 1821 elevated to power a segment of the elite w h i c h had imbibed the heady wines of Enlightenment thought and, judging the Indians to be backward, t e r m i nated the benign neglect of the C r o w n . According to the simile of the times, the Indian c i v i l i z a t i o n marked the appropriate infancy of Guatemala, w h i c h w o u l d mature to adulthood nurtured on a European d i e t . In short, if Guatemala were to progress, then the Indians had to be Europeanized. D u r i n g the decade of the 1830s, the government of M a r i ano Gálvez energetically set out to remodel Guatemala i n an effort to eradicate Indian institutions i n favor of the latest European ones. A s elsewhere i n the hemisphere, the government favored European i m m i g r a t i o n as the guarantee for progress. In a m o m e n t of generosity—or desperation—in 1834, the government awarded nearly a l l the public lands to foreign companies w h i c h promised to people Guatemala w i t h Europeans. The area conceded covered nearly three-quarters of G u a t e m a l a . Regarding the Indian c o m m u n a l lands as an unprogressive remnant of the past, the government proceeded to put t h e m up for sale, a bargain eagerly acquired by a growing and ambitious mestizo urban class as w e l l as by foreigners. N e w laws forced the Indians to b u i l d roads and ports and reestablished the burdensome head tax on them i n order to finance the infrastructure w h i c h w o u l d integrate Guatemala more completely w i t h Europe. A t every t u r n the Indians faced increasingly heavy taxes and workloads, confiscation of their lands, and deprecation of their cultural values. A t the same time the government intensified its attacks on the R o m a n C a t h o l i c clergy as retrograde and legislated to reduce its i n fluence. To the Indian communities, on the other hand, the clergy remained as their last protector from a hostile, Europeanized government. They perceived any decrease i n the Church's powers as an increase i n their o w n vulnerability to exploitation or d e s t r u c t i o n . Clearly, by debilitating the only defender of the Indian masses, the elites enhanced their o w n position. T h e elites understood the organizational strength of the R o m a n C a t h o l i c C h u r c h to surpass that of the nascent 70

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49

political institutions they fostered, and they welcomed the opportunity to weaken a rival. Furthermore, the property confiscated from the C h u r c h ended up i n the hands of the secular elites and increased their wealth, their prestige, and ultimately their power. T h e m a n y grievances of the Indians reached a c l i m a x i n 1837 w i t h the outbreak of a virulent cholera epidemic, the final proof to the Indians that the government sought to eliminate t h e m i n order to give their lands to i m migrants. A t that point a popular revolt, one of the major ones i n nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a , broke out, and Rafael Carrera, a mestizo w i t h firm roots i n the Indian c o m m u n i t y , took the leadership. A m o n g the m a n y things that popular rebellion signified, it voiced the refusal of the Indians to countenance any further exploitation and destruction through Europeanization. T h e y wanted to be left alone by the elites of Guatemala C i t y so that they could live unmolested according to the dicta of their o w n culture. T h e y rejected the education, culture, economy, and laws w h i c h w o u l d Europeanize t h e m to the extent of i n tegrating t h e m into a capitalist economy centered i n Europe. T h e y chose to withdraw, to isolate themselves; and w i t h drawal was and remains a c o m m o n reaction of the Indians before the Europeans. But withdrawal signified rebellion i n regions where the elites depended on those Indians for labor and taxes. Carrera understood the Indian position; he sympathized w i t h the desires of the Indians,- and he rose to power on their strength. D u r i n g the generation (1838-1865) i n w h i c h Rafael Carrera dominated Guatemala, he respected the native cultures, protected the Indians insofar as that was possible, and sought to incorporate t h e m into his government. H i s modest successes i n these efforts assume greater significance w h e n compared to the disastrous conditions suffered by the Indian majority during the decades of liberal, Europeanized governments w h i c h encapsulated the Carrera period. That popular Caudillo, totally unschooled i n foreign theories, was a practical m a n w h o k n e w Guatemala and its peoples w e l l . H e had traveled and lived i n m a n y parts of the nation, always among the h u m b l e folk w h o m he understood. H e drew from his G u a -

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temalan experiences, i n marked contrast to the elites seduced by European experiences and theories. Carrera appreciated the Indians' opposition to the process of Europeanization imposed by the L i b e r a l s . H e regarded it as his principal duty to allow "the people to return to their customs, their habits, and their particular manner of l i v i n g . " The government, he affirmed, had the obligation of representing the majority of the people and of offering "a l i v i n g example of virtue, equity, prudence, and j u s t i c e . " Those principles seem to have guided m u c h of his long administration. W h i l e Carrera repudiated the radical ideas of the Liberals, he never eschewed change. H e believed it must come slowly and w i t h i n the social context, a change acceptable to the people and not forced o n them. A n editorial i n E l N o t i c i o s o as late as 1861 decried the wholesale importation of innovations from Europe and the U n i t e d States and went on to advocate the evolution from a colonial past to a national present w i t h deliberation. Such gradualism generally characterized the Guatemalan government under Carrera. Revisionist studies of those years credit that government w i t h respecting Indian customs and protecting the rural Indians. The president held that the art of governing w e l l sprang from the "formation of a government of the people and for the people." Accordingly, the government officially abandoned the Liberals' goal to i n corporate the Indians into Western C i v i l i z a t i o n . One even could argue that under Carrera the government was "Indianized." Indians and particularly Ladinos, a l l of relatively h u m ble classes, participated directly i n the government, holding such exalted offices, i n addition to the presidency, of course, as the vice-presidency, ministries, governorships, and h i g h m i l i t a r y ranks. T h e army became nearly an Indian institut i o n . T h e Carrera government was unique i n L a t i n A m e r i c a for providing the p o l i t i c a l ascendancy of the once conquered race. Significantly the " w h i t e " political monopoly was broken, and never again could the m i n u t e white aristocracy govern Guatemala alone. Fundamental to Carrera's government was the decree of August 16, 1839, to protect the Indians. C o m m e n t i n g on the new decree, E l T i e m p o editorialized, "It is the object of public interest not only to protect the most 73

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numerous class i n our society but also to encourage it to i m prove its customs and c i v i l i z a t i o n , w h i c h can be done by prov i d i n g it w i t h the means to acquire and increase its s m a l l property holdings and the industry by w h i c h it l i v e s . " Such were the intentions of the Carrera government. T h e government generally succeeded i n carrying out those intentions. G o v e r n m e n t a l decrees were translated into Indian languages and "protectors" appointed to serve the Indian communities. Carrera himself received Indian delegations and seems to have traveled frequently i n order to v i s i t w i t h the Indians. To lift some of the economic burden from the impoverished majority, he reduced taxes on foodstuffs and abolished the head tax. Further, he excused the Indians from contributing to the loans the government levied from t i m e to t i m e to meet fiscal emergencies. O n the other hand, the government did not hesitate to reinstate the former alcoholic beverage controls, w h i c h included higher taxation, one means Carrera had of both increasing revenues and i m p o s i n g a greater m o r a l i t y on the countryside. T h e government took a pragm a t i c v i e w toward education. It encouraged a basic education, believing that for the majority of the inhabitants a simple education emphasizing reading, w r i t i n g , and C h r i s t i a n doctrine w o u l d suffice. Higher education was available, p r i m a r i l y i n the capital, for those desiring i t . In the almost exclusively Indian Department of Sacatepequez, a decree of 1849 required each village to establish a school for boys to learn reading, w r i t i n g , arithmetic, religion, and moral principles. " A s soon as funds are available, those municipalities w i l l establish schools for girls." Scholarships were to be available to defray expenses of poor c h i l d r e n . However, of a l l the efforts made i n behalf of the Indians none surpassed the return of land to Indian c o m m u n i t i e s and the settlement of land disputes i n their favor. T h e Carrera decades witnessed increasing agrarian diversification and an escape from the monoculture w h i c h had characterized agriculture for so long. In sum, the conditions for the Indian majority improved during the Carrera years. W h i l e some studies have concentrated recently on the administration and programs of the Carrera administration, 82

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scant attention has been given to the philosophical views of Carrera and of his government concerning the Indians and the m a n y complex problems of a dual society. A s has been stated, the government realized that its strength rested u p o n Indian support and certainly exerted efforts to protect and help the Indians, but the impression often remains that Carrera acted more from r e a l p o l i t i k than from conviction, that he was more paternalistic than egalitarian. Those paternal and pragmatic aspects of governmental policy seem most readily evident, and this should not be surprising, since Guatemalans had i n herited centuries of Spanish paternalism. Furthermore, the anthropological thought emanating from Europe i n the nineteenth century ranked the Indian as inferior, and it is assumed that at their most benevolent the L a t i n A m e r i c a n governments exercised an appropriate paternalism toward the native inhabitants but w i t h h e l d any recognition of real equality. Indeed, the policies of most governments confronting the Indian populations were to insist on their absorption into the Europeanizing patterns, or eradication. The Carrera government offered a refreshing deviation. Despite the intellectual climate in w h i c h Carrera governed, there exists some reason to speculate that certain policy makers, among them the president, maintained an unusually open and enlightened attitude toward the Indians, rare anywhere i n the nineteenth century and a harbinger of ideas w h i c h w o u l d take another century to germinate. T h e evidence is s t i l l spotty and begs further research. These suggestions are based on scattered—but neglected—evidence. First and foremost are the actions of the government, w h i c h , u n l i k e so m a n y later governments i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , acted for the benefit of the Indians and to a large extent i n conformity w i t h Indian demands. But there were also some philosophical pronouncements scattered throughout the Carrera years w h i c h provide a glimpse of official thinking. Carrera's I n f o r m e to the legislature i n 1848 remains one of his major policy statements. In it, he criticized the elites' abuses of the Indians, displayed a laudable understanding of Indian psychology, and expressed his concern for and sympathy w i t h the Indian peoples, who, he emphasized, composed

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"two-thirds of the Republic's population." In his view, " h u m a n i t y " and " c o m m o n sense" required a fair treatment of that majority, w h i c h w o u l d be best served by the old laws and practices to w h i c h they were accustomed. S i m i l a r views were discussed on other occasions to reveal, on the one hand, that official philosophy did not change through the years, but, on the other hand, that it was difficult to overcome prejudices apparently ingrained i n the Europeanized segment of the population. In 1862 E l N o t i c i o s o carried a significant essay entitled " E l antagonismo de razas," w h i c h expressed the official attitude i n the later years of the Carrera period. W h i l e succumbing to the conclusion that European c i v i l i z a t i o n was "superior" and thus subscribing to the racial implications of that conclusion, the essay warned that to accept the AngloSaxon version of European c i v i l i z a t i o n w o u l d condemn the Indians to extermination, a condition unacceptable to the essay's author. T h e solution seemed to be the introduction of European c i v i l i z a t i o n as filtered through the more acceptable Spanish experience; w i t h i n the framework of Spanish Europe and Indian A m e r i c a , Guatemala could forge its o w n c i v i l i z a tion. 89

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W i t h i n a m o n t h , E l N o t i c i o s o returned to that theme i n a clever essay, "Fantasia," signed by M i g u e l Boada y Balmes. T h e author called for nothing less than equal rights for the Indians, a singular demand i n a hemisphere w h i c h at that t i m e adamantly denied everything to the original inhabitants: " . . . the ideal of the present is the moral, and to a certain point physical, emancipation of the Indians, his freedom to enjoy the right universally admitted to be h u m a n . . . ." T h e author based his arguments on the philosophical views favoring the equality of all men, on Christianity, on social justice, and on the brute economic reality that the Indians produced the wealth others enjoyed. What marks the Carrera experience as unique i n Indo-America is the respect the government extended to Indian cultures and the reluctance to push the Indian population into Europeanizing. A willingness to respect Indian customs did not eliminate the government's attention to "progress." In the relative c a l m of the last decade and a half of the Carrera government, the 91

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dual society both preserved the past and flirted w i t h the future. D u r i n g the closing years of the period, the newspapers commented frequently on the satisfactory pace of "progress" and "advancement," not hesitating to applaud the maturing " c i v i l i z a t i o n " of G u a t e m a l a . President Carrera himself once had reminded the legislature that when he entered office his enemies expected "barbarism" to envelop the country, but that he consistently had fostered "culture and c i v i l i z a t i o n . " In the last decade of the century, the novelist M a n u e l Cabral, w r i t i n g under the pseudonym of Felipe de Jesùs, provided unique insight into Guatemala C i t y during the final Carrera years. T h e author repeatedly reminisced i n his novel M a r i a : H i s t o r i a d e u n a mártir that those were happy years for the republic. H e made the comparison between his and those times i n the following terms: 92

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The beautiful capital of the Republic was around 1860 . . . one of the most tranquil and consequently placidly enchanting cities of Spanish A m e r i c a . Foreigners had not yet taken possession of it and therefore had not introduced those European customs w h i c h — l e t m e say it f r a n k l y — i f they have brought us some advantages have caused us on the other hand m u c h trouble. . . . N o , let's not c o m pletely forsake the past. Perhaps we find m a n y improvements i n our present style of l i v i n g but at the same time we miss m a n y things w h i c h we have lost and whose loss n o w grieves us. We accept, as we w i l l always accept, w i t h pleasure everything w h i c h represents a positive advancement, but at the same time we energetically reject everything w h i c h tends to d i m i n i s h the happiness of the people. Peace of m i n d , tranquility i n the home, purity of customs, public morality are advantages a thousand times more precious than all the inventions and discoveries of modern s c i e n c e . . . . A frenzy for business and w i t h it questionable speculations had not yet invaded us in those bygone days; there was no luxury but there was decency; commerce was l i m i t e d but more honorable . . . and consequently if misery did exist it was on a very small scale. N a t i o n a l industries flourished and prospered even if at a modest r h y t h m . Today all that has disappeared almost completely because of the importation of European goods. What we once produced ourselves we n o w import. True, it might be more attractive but it doesn't last as long and is therefore more costly. . . . F r o m such exploitation, from such abuse of our hospitality, our poverty has arisen. What does it matter if today there is greater happiness i n certain circles if on the other

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hand the tears flow more abundantly i n the suburbs of our beautiful capital? . . . In those days the n u m b e r of poor families was few; today they are the majority. 94

In the fascinating if overly romanticized plot, M a r i a , at one time a member of a small, rising middle class, identifies w i t h the Indian past. María confides to her family's former m a i d , an Indian, "I k n o w that y o u and alongside of y o u a l l the h u m ble daughters of the people, to whose class I belong w i t h a l l m y heart from this day forward, are more generous, better, more unselfish, and nobler than m a n y of those proud aristocrats w h o believe themselves degraded if they deign to speak a word to u s . " T h e novel is significant for m a n y reasons, not the least of w h i c h is the nostalgic glance at the Carrera years as representative of a benign period i n G u a t e m a l a n history w h e n the majority probably lived better than at any other period i n the century. 95

T h e Indian victory under Carrera proved to be as transitory as the gaucho's under Rosas. T h e death of Carrera i n 1865 reinvigorated the elite's effort to w i e l d power, and they succeeded under the leadership of another and different type of Caudillo, Justo Rufino Barrios, 1873-1885. Positivist i n orientation, President Barrios duly emphasized order and material progress. U n d e r the Liberal reforms of the post-1871 period, capitalism made its definitive entry into Guatemala, w h i c h meant large-scale exportation of coffee w i t h a l l the attendant consequences for that agrarian economy. T h e government rushed to import foreign technicians, ideas, and manufactured goods. It did not hesitate to contract foreign loans to pay for the Europeanization. The improvement of roads from the highland plantations to the ports and then the construction of the m u c h desired railroads first to the Pacific and later to the A t l a n t i c accelerated coffee production and integrated Guatemala into the w o r l d market system more tightly than ever. A s elsewhere, the n e w railroads were owned and operated by foreigners and paid handsome profits to overseas i n vestors. T h e burden of financing the railroads as w e l l as the other accouterments of progress inevitably fell o n the p o o r . 96

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Spiraling coffee production for export had several longrange negative consequences. For one thing, it d i m i n i s h e d the amount of land, labor, and capital available to produce food for local consumption. Wheat harvests especially declined. M o n o c u l t u r e again became a dominant characteristic of the economy. To create the necessary work force on the coffee fincas, the Indians were forced, under a burdensome system of m a n d a m i e n t o s , to become wage laborers. M e a n w h i l e the government did not hesitate to concede to private landowners m a n y lands on w h i c h the Indians had lived and worked for generations but to w h i c h they possessed no title under Guatem a l a n laws more attuned to European than to local experiences. Those laws regarded land w i t h o u t titles as "vacant," and the prospering elite eagerly acquired the acreage. By a variety of means the large estates encroached on the Indians' c o m m u n a l lands. A s a consequence the economic and social position of the Indian majority d e c l i n e d . Anthropologists have recorded the negative effect of the coffee plantations on the indigenous cultures, w h i c h have never recovered from the s h o c k . T h e pitiful conditions of the Indians prompted Francisco Lainfìesta, a minister i n the Barrios government, to m o u n t an eloquent defense of t h e m i n his novel A v i s t a d e pájaro (1879). Later, i n his novel E d m u n d o (1896), José A . Beteta lamented the degradation of the "miserable Indians bent beneath the weight of their rude w o r k . . . . w h o seemed to cry over the loss of the adored land w h i c h belonged to their grandfathers and to sigh for the liberty robbed from them."¹°° 97

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T h e judgments of the Barrios period and the Liberal reforms inevitably point to the material changes, the prosperity of the elites, and the transformation of Guatemala C i t y into a pseudo-European capital. Balancing those accomplishments were a return to monoculture, declining food production for local consumption, rising foreign debt, forced labor, debt peonage, the growth of the latifundia, and the greater impoverishment of the majority. Reflecting once again the c o m m o n historiographical bias, library shelves groan under the biographical studies of the two nineteenth-century "modernizers," Gálvez and Barrios, w h i l e historians continue to ignore Rafael Carrera.

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T h e Indians of M e x i c o provided other notable examples of grass-roots rebellion. T h e Yaquis of Sonora fought bitterly against the central government throughout the nineteenth century. T h e impact of railroad construction and hacienda expansion i n Sonora during the Porfiriato intensified their resistance. T h e new economic enterprises absorbed the Yaquis' land and demanded their labor, forcing t h e m to acquiesce or to fight. José María Leyva Cajeme organized and governed a Yaqui state-within-a-state from 1875 u n t i l his death i n 1886. Resistance declined before the overwhelming federal forces, but a handful of rebels under Juan Maldonado, alias Tatabiate, raided haciendas, ranches, and mines during the last decade of the century. T h e government responded to Y a q u i rebellion by selling the Indians into v i r t u a l slavery to the owners of the labor-short henequen plantations i n distant Y u c a t a n . 101

T h e T z o t z i l M a y a of Chiapas rebelled, 1867-1870, under the leadership of Pedro Díaz Cuscat to restore Indian power to the C h i a p a n highlands and thus rescue the c o m m u n i t y from Ladino oppression. A s one means of creating a new Indian society and religion and of eradicating Ladino influence, the Indians sought to create their o w n M a y a n Christ. To do so, they crucified a ten-year-old Indian boy, w h o was to become a "new, Indian son of G o d and S u n / C h r i s t . " Bitter ethnic conflict characterized Cuscat's war. Several times the Mayas nearly toppled the state government i n San Cristóbal de las Casas before federal and state troops defeated them. Throughout nineteenth-century M e x i c o , Indian disturbances, w h i c h seemed to cluster around the years 1832-1833, 1842-1845, 1849, 1856-1857, 1868-1869, 1878-1882, 1886, 1896, 1906, and 1910, threatened various mestizo communities. T h e Indians' desire to reassert control over lands they felt traditionally belonged to them sparked most of the u p r i s i n g s . Doubtless the major Indian rebellion i n terms of length, carnage, and significance was the Caste War of Yucatan between the Mayas and the peninsula's whites and mestizos. In the years after M e x i c o declared its independence, the sugar and henequen plantations had expanded to threaten the corn culture of the Mayas by incorporating their lands into the latifundia and by impressing the Indians into service as debt 102

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peons. The Indians fought for their land and freedom. T h e y defended their world. O n the other side, the Yucatan elite professed that they fought for "the holy cause of order, h u m a n i t y and c i v i l i z a t i o n . " M u c h of the bloodiest fighting occurred during the period 1847-1855, but the war lingered on u n t i l the early twentieth century. D u r i n g those decades the Mayas of eastern and southern Yucatan governed themselves. Free of white domination, the M a y a n rebels took the name of Cruzob, turned their backs on the white world, and developed their o w n culture, a synthesis of their M a y a n i n heritance and Spanish influences. Four hundred years of conquest had erased the intellectual and artistic heritage from the M a y a n m i n d , but the Cruzob retained their knowledge of agriculture and village and family organization from the preC o l u m b i a n past. U n i q u e to the Cruzob was the development of their o w n religion, based largely on their interpretation of Christianity. U n l i k e other syncretic religions of L a t i n A m e r i ca, it developed w i t h o u t dependence on the sporadic participation of R o m a n C a t h o l i c priests (to perform baptisms, marriages, or an occasional Mass) and free from the critical eye of the white master. Incorporating the Indian folkways, religion strengthened the Cruzob and provided a spiritual base for i n dependence that other Indians lacked. What was notable about the Cruzob was the emergence of a viable Indian alternative to Europeanization. A l t h o u g h infused w i t h Spanish contributions, it bore a strong resemblance to the pre-Columbian M a y a n s o c i e t y . Reviving their Indian culture by repudiating "foreign" domination and substituting their o w n values for "foreign" ones, the Cruzob revitalized their society. T h e y became masters i n their o w n land a g a i n . Powerful forces at work i n the closing decades of the nineteenth century overwhelmed the Cruzob. T h e poor soil of Yucatan, exhausted under corn cultivation, no longer yielded sufficient food. Disease reduced the Indian ranks faster than battle did. A t the same time, the increasingly stable M e x i c o under Porfirio Díaz showed less tolerance for the C r u z o b and more determination to subdue them i n order to exploit Yucatan. A treaty between M e x i c o and Great Britain closed B r i t i s h 104

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Honduras to the Cruzob, thus cutting off their single source of modern weapons and a m m u n i t i o n . Finally, the expanding railroads and roads from northern Yucatan accompanying the prosperous henequen plantations penetrated the C r u z o b territory. A growing market for forest woods sent the whites even into the seemingly impenetrable forest redoubts of the C r u zob. Consequently a declining Cruzob population and relentless M e x i c a n pressures brought to an end the M a y a n independence of half a century. T h e long and tenacious Indian resistance testified to the Indian preferences, a rejection of the Europeanization preferred by the elites. In Ecuador, Indian uprisings punctuated the nineteenth century. Oswaldo A l b o r n o z P. has chronicled twenty such rebellions caused by increased taxation, harsh exploitation, and a desire to defend or recover c o m m u n a l l a n d s . One of the major rebellions broke out i n 1871 i n C h i m b o r a z o province, where the Indians sought to end the abuses and crushing taxat i o n of the G a b r i e l G a r c i a M o r e n o government. T h e chief of the rebellion, Francisco Daquidema, was condemned to death by a m i l i t a r y tribunal and has been banished from " h i s t o r y " by Ecuadorian historians. Peruvian history witnessed s i m i l a r Indian protest. Overwork, excessive taxation, and general abuse goaded the Indians to rebel i n Puno i n 1866 and i n A n cash i n 1885. In the latter uprising the Indians captured the departmental capital, Huaráz, and several other towns before the army dispersed them. T h e Indian leader Pedro Pablo Atusparia emerged from the struggle as a genuine folk hero revered by his people, a l t h o u g h — t o repeat a well-established pattern by n o w — i g n o r e d by the official histories of Peru. S t i l l , three remarkable intellectuals, Juan Bustamente, C l o r i n d a M a t t o de Turner, and M a n u e l González Prada, attempted to focus national attention on the plight of the indigenous population. T h e first was executed; the second sent into exile. In those nations where slavery lingered after independence, the blacks vigorously protested their servitude and the institutions w h i c h allowed it. T h e y threatened the local slaveholders and intensified the anxieties of the governments. V i s i o n s of the successful slave revolt i n H a i t i haunted the elites. U n r e l e n t i n g black pressure through guerrilla warfare 107

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finally persuaded the C o l o m b i a n government to free the rem a i n i n g slaves i n 1852. Major slave threats to established order occurred i n Venezuela i n 1835 and Peru i n 1848. Braz i l i a n slaves constantly rebelled u n t i l final abolition i n 1888. In fact, the period just prior to abolition, 1882-1887, witnessed a sharp increase i n rebellions, runaways, and assassinations of slaveowners. Perhaps the major slave revolt occurred i n 1835 i n Bahia, scene of nine revolts or attempts since the opening of the century. W e l l organized and directed by Nagos slaves, the rebels sought to k i l l a l l whites and to free a l l slaves. T h o u g h the uprising failed, it sent shivers of fear throughout the white c o m m u n i t y w h i c h never abated u n t i l slavery was abolished. Sober members of the elites regarded the slave as "a volcano that constantly threatens society, a m i n e ready to explode," as Agostinho Marques Perdigao Malheiros phrased it i n his authoritative study A escravidão n o B r a s i l (1866). Foreign visitors sensed the tension. The European Prince Adalbert visited one large and w e l l r u n plantation w h i c h he praised as a model. After noting the seemingly friendly relations between the master and the slaves, he revealed, " T h e loaded guns and pistols hanging up i n his [the master's] bedroom however, showed that he had not entire confidence i n them [the slaves] and indeed, he had more than once been obliged to face them w i t h his loaded g u n . " The story of the slave rebellions and of the reactions of the L a t i n A m e r i c a n blacks to their society i n the nineteenth century remains to be told. A l t h o u g h historians take note of some of the blacks' protests against the nineteenth century's most brutal institution, they inevitably credit abolit i o n to one or another enlightened "Europeanized" president or leader, treating it as a gift generously bestowed on grateful blacks, failing to do justice to the struggle of a determined people to w i n its o w n f r e e d o m . Novelists, although often sympathetic i n their prose to the plight of the blacks, generally failed to depict the reality of being a slave—or, for that matter, a b l a c k — i n a Europeanized society, but they did suggest the status of racial relations and a degree of societal violence. In her novel S a b (1841), the C u b a n Gertrudis G o m e z de Avellaneda made the faithful m u 108

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latto slave Sab sacrifice the wealth acquired from a w i n n i n g lottery ticket for his master's family, a symbolic gesture revealing the whites' perception of the blacks' role. To further carry out the s y m b o l i s m , Cariota, daughter of Sab's master and object of the black's affections, to w h o m he secretly transfers the lottery ticket, marries an English merchant, and, although she may not be happy, she travels widely, lives w e l l , and apparently fulfills the island's desire of u n i o n w i t h the new metropolis. Later i n the century, A l u i z i o Azevedo related i n O m u l a t o (1881) h o w R a i m u n d o felt as a light-skinned, blue-eyed mulatto i n Brazilian society, i n an exposé of the subtleties of racial p r e j u d i c e . Sab, the slave, c o m m i t s suicide, forced to self-destruction by society; R a i m u n d o , the free mulatto, is assassinated, a vengeance society wreaks upon h i m because he dares to be the equal of the " w h i t e " Brazilians. These novelists were recording the reality that, free or slave, the person of A f r i c a n descent was caught i n the maelstrom of violence i n nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a . 111

Other popular segments of the varied L a t i n A m e r i c a n populations had joined the rebellion against accelerating E u ropeanization. T h e Brazilian provinces shook w i t h protest. Bahia, i n particular, during the years 1824-1840, had seethed w i t h social tension. In general terms it is safe to conclude that the Bahian rebels were people of color w h o opposed or fought against the "European types." T h e i r ideology was vague and often contradictory. T h e y frequently sacked shops and warehouses i n a quest for food and k i l l e d m i l i t a r y officers and landowners i n a challenge to a u t h o r i t y . In the 1830s, also, three major popular rebellions had revealed the unrest i n the northeast and north of Brazil: the War of the Cabanos i n the interior of Pernambuco and Alagoas, 1832-1836; the Cabanagem i n Pará, 1835-1840; and the Balaiada i n Maranhão, 1838-1841. These three, of the m a n y w h i c h rocked the empire i n that turbulent decade, appear to have had the most popular support and expressed the frustrations of poor whites, mestizos, mulattoes, black slaves, and Indians. T h e rebels hoped to improve their standards of l i v i n g , although their programs were vague, and to share i n the exercise of power. T h e War of the Cabanos was particular112

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l y significant because it was entirely rural-based. T h e leader, Vicente Ferreira da Paula, is considered to be an "authentic leader of the masses," according to a revisionist study of the r e b e l l i o n . The leaders of the three rebellions were revered by their followers, w h o considered each of them to be one of themselves; however, to the governments, they were " c r i m inals," "bandits," and "outlaws," as they are s t i l l termed whenever mentioned i n the official histories. For example, i n a history text widely used during the 1960s i n Brazilian u n i versities, the author spoke of the Balaiada as "unchecked banditry," and the principal allegation against the rebels is their "audacity to attack private p r o p e r t y . " The proclamation i n 1840 that the young Pedro II was of age to reign and his subsequent coronation strengthened the control of the elites but did not eliminate displays of popular wrath and contradiction. T h e Ronco da Abeha revolt i n Paraiba i n 1852 and the M o v i mento dos Marimbondos i n Pernambuco at the same t i m e objected to the new law requiring c i v i l registration of birth, a requirement suspected by the people of color as a means to enslave them. A s often happened i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , these people saw i n the R o m a n C a t h o l i c C h u r c h a protector, w h i l e they suspected the State of being the exploiter. A s a result of the uprisings, C h u r c h registration continued u n t i l 1889, after the abolition of slavery. Other popular manifestations disturbed the order dear to the Brazilian elite: the Carne sem Osso movement i n 1858 and the V i n t e m i n 1880. T h e Quebra-Quilo Revolt, late 1874 to early 1875, ranked high i n significance because the peasants of the i n terior of the Northeast succeeded i n checking the Brazilian government's new modernization drive, under way by 1871 but ineffectual by 1875. T h e causes of the revolt were not unique: new taxes and the peasants' fear that the large landowners were absorbing their farms, complicated by the imposition of the metric system and the required payment of fees for official conversion and authentication of weights. A journalist covering the revolt attributed it to "the direct consequence of the suffering and deprivation . . . [of] the w o r k i n g classes of the interior," w h i l e a peasant participant claimed, "The fruit of the soil belongs to the people and tax ought not 113

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be paid on i t . " A s riots m u l t i p l i e d i n the marketplaces from R i o Grande do Norte to Alagoas, the m u n i c i p a l and p r o v i n c i a l authorities feared that the "forces of Barbarism" were poised to sweep across the Northeast. T h e peasants were unusually successful. T h e y d i d not pay the new taxes; they destroyed the new weights and measures; they burned official records and archives, thus protecting their i n f o r m a l title to the land by reducing to ashes the legal records. In most cases, those peasants had taken physical possession of the land and worked it over the generations w i t h o u t title. T h e y faced possible evict i o n by anyone w h o could show the proper paper authenticating legal ownership. By destroying records, the peasants removed evidence—the local notarial registers of land, for e x a m p l e — f r o m use i n judicial proceedings, thereby putting themselves on equal legal footing w i t h the local landed elite. Momentarily, then, the sporadic riots w h i c h constituted the revolt achieved the peasants' goals, w h i l e temporarily frustrating the penetration of the elites into their r e g i o n . 1 1 5

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Popular protests were not unique to Brazil. In Argentina, too, the c o m m o n people expressed their disagreement w i t h elitist rule. In the six years after Buenos Aires took control of the newly centralized government and President M i t r e determined to impose urban, elitist government over folk cultures (1862-1868), Argentina witnessed 117 rebellions w i t h ninety-one battles and the death of 4,728 c i t i z e n s . The forms that modernization assumed i n L a t i n A m e r i c a — t h e expansion of the latifundia oriented toward export, the construction of railways w i t h the resultant opening to export agriculture of regions once l i n k e d w i t h folk societies, the encouragement of European i m m i g r a t i o n w i t h land grants— ignited protest, rebellion, and uprisings throughout L a t i n A m e r i c a . Angered by the absorption of their lands by the growing latifundia, armed groups of m e n circulated through the streets of C a l i , C o l o m b i a , on the nights of M a y 20 and 21, 1848, shouting, " L o n g live the people and death to the whites!" T h e n they tore d o w n fences erected by two hacendados w h i c h had deprived the peasants of pasture for their animals. Governor Vicente Borrero of the province of Buenaventura noted i n a letter the following m o n t h to President 117

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Tomás C i p r i a n o de Mosquera, "The People are constantly at war w i t h the Landowners, and the Landowners w i t h the People." In a cogent essay connecting railroad construction w i t h the growth of large estates i n M e x i c o , John Coatsworth emphasizes that accelerated railroad building between 1877 and 1884 encouraged the proliferation and expansion of latifundias near the tracks, and this i n t u r n aroused the Indian c o m m u n i t i e s to rebellion, a reaction to their loss of l a n d . Revolts shook the province of Santa Fe i n Argentina i n 1893, triggered on the one hand by s m a l l farmers' protests against a tax o n wheat to pay for the government's innovations, i n cluding railroads, and o n the other by the resentment of the c r i o l l o s because immigrants received land and preferred treatment denied the l o c a l s . T h u s the pace of modernization partly accounts for the rebellion and its attendant violence i n nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a . Popular protest assumed forms other than rebellion. Banditry and millenarian movements flourished i n the nineteenth century, although serious studies of them are s t i l l extremely rare. T h a n k s to the conceptual framework offered by E. J. Hobsbawm, it is possible to consider banditry as a f o r m of social protest and m i l l e n a r i a n i s m as a type of popular r e v o l u t i o n . It n o w remains for historians to identify the bandits and the millenarian movements as a first step toward understanding their significance i n nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a . Brazil seems to offer numerous examples of both i n the past century. Intensifying urbanization, the growth of commercial agriculture, and the expansion of transportation and c o m m u n i c a t i o n challenged the folkways of the rural population and sparked cultural conflicts. T h e despair of the rural masses, their reject i o n of the present, and their longing for a better life i n the future, i n turn, gave rise to m i l l e n a r i a n m o v e m e n t s . In the backlands of Pernambuco, 1817-1820, Silvestre José dos Santos established the C i t y of Heaven on Earth, where his followers expected riches during their temporal life to be distributed by the m y s t i c sixteenth-century Portuguese m o n arch Sebastian, the perennial hope of the dispossessed. In 1836-1839, miserably poor people concentrated i n Pedra Bonita i n the arid interior of Pernambuco to await the meta1 1 8

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morphosis of the barren rocks into an enchanted city i n w h i c h they w o u l d enjoy grace, riches, and power, once again through the intervention of K i n g Sebastian. A s previously mentioned, i n Canudos i n 1893-1897, Antônio Conselheiro attracted throngs of faithful followers, discouraged w i t h contemporary Brazil and hopeful of improvement. In the extreme south of Brazil, a messianic movement among G e r m a n immigrants occurred between 1872 and 1898. Jacobina Maurer, the selfproclaimed reincarnation of Jesus Christ, announced the end of the w o r l d and life everlasting for her followers. Parenthetically, this movement offers one of the very few examples of female leadership during the nineteenth century. Periodically throughout the century, s m a l l messianic movements flourished i n the A m a z o n basin. In the tribes deculturated by m i s sionaries and explorers, the Indians developed a syncretic religion, part R o m a n Catholic, part that of their ancestors. T h e y turned to that religion for u n i t y and hope. T h e messianic movements w h i c h appeared denounced " w h i t e c i v i l i z a t i o n " as the source of local misery and announced a new and perfect life i n w h i c h the whites w o u l d not be p r e s e n t . These m i l l e n a r i a n movements revealed both the spiritual and the temporal needs of the people w h o subscribed to them, a den u n c i a t i o n of the society i n w h i c h they dwelled, and a longing for a better l i f e . S i m i l a r to the folk cultures already discussed, the m i l l e n a r i a n movements evinced a strict hierarchy of authority i n w h i c h the acknowledged leader ruled supremel y a n d — i t was assumed—always i n the best interests of the people. Banditry attracted the desperate, those w h o had lost out i n the system, whether they were the poor or members of the i m poverished gentry. Whatever else banditry m a y have included or meant, it was as m u c h a means of protesting an injustice or righting a wrong as it was of equalizing the wealth or taking political revenge. To the r i c h and powerful, bandits were outlaws m e r i t i n g severe punishment; to the poor masses, however, they sometimes represented justice and l i b e r a t i o n . Bandits roamed the Brazilian interior i n the nineteenth century, particularly i n the impoverished Northeast, where m a n y w o n the admiration of the poor and the respect of the wealthy, 123

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w h o not infrequently co-opted them and u t i l i z e d their services. Brazilian popular poetry abounds w i t h tales of the bandit hero. A w e l l k n o w n poem sung at the beginning of the twentieth century, related the story of A n t o n i o Silvino, w h o became a C a n g a c e i r o i n 1896 to avenge an injustice: the slaying of his father by a police official w h o went unpunished by the government. Banditry characterized m u c h of Spanish L a t i n A m e r i c a as w e l l . Peru offers numerous examples of peasant b a n d i t s . In his study of Peruvian banditry, Enrique Lopez Albujar described it as "a protest, a rebellion, a deviation, or a simple means of subsistence." H e concluded that nineteenthcentury Peruvian banditry produced folk heroes l i k e Palomo, Pajarito, Sambambé, and L u i s Pardo because those bandits corrected injustices, robbed to help the poor, and protested social and economic inequities—social objectives Albujar d i d not find prevalent i n twentieth-century b a n d i t r y . Bandits flourish i n Spanish A m e r i c a n literature, populating the pages of novels and short stories written both i n the last century and in the present. Ignacio M a n u e l A l t a m i r a n o provided a critical but sympathetic account of the protagonist i n E l Z a r c o (written i n 1888 but published i n 1901 and later translated into English as E l Z a r c o , t h e B a n d i t ) . Eloping w i t h E l Zarco i n the final pages of the novel, the character M a n u e l a accepts a not unusual rationalization for banditry: "That E l Zarco and his followers were b a n d i t s — m e n w h o had made robbery and k i d napping their profession—did not seem particularly strange to her, for political leaders i n revolt against the government often used the same methods. To her, the bandits were rebels at war w i t h society, their cruelty a natural reaction to a life of constant danger." Indeed, A l t a m i r a n o has already informed his readers that E l Zarco became a bandit after " t i r i n g of a life of servitude and p o v e r t y . " In short, banditry became a means of protest against social and economic injustice. S i m i l a r l y i n an early Guatemalan novella, D . Bouquet y Soler took an u n derstanding and sympathetic v i e w of a bandit. Falling into the hands of Monreal, widely feared as the most infamous bandit of Central A m e r i c a , the narrator finds h i m to be "courteous and decent," an intelligent individual. Significantly, i n this 127

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story, M o n r e a l reveals to the narrator the glories of Guatemala's Indian past by taking h i m to a lost M a y a n c i t y . The literary bandits incarnated idealizations of one sort or another, the recognition by one group of intellectuals of just causes for dissatisfaction among the masses. In ascribing a n o b i l i t y to the bandits, these writers i m p l i e d a need for social reforms. T h e real bandits probably revealed a character more h a r m o n i ous w i t h desperation. T h e i r motives and activities varied widely, but at least i n part they could be explained as protests against the wrongs of society as the bandits viewed it. Because of their strength and because they often opposed the elites and official institutions, they received the support, i n deed, the admiration of large numbers of the h u m b l e classes, w h o often h i d them, lied to the authorities to protect them, guided t h e m through strange terrain, and fed t h e m . To the poor, they were caudillos w h o by default helped to sustain the folk cultures. 1 3 3

Of the varied alternatives offered to the Europeanization imposed by the urban elites, few at this point i n research seem clear i n either their goals or their methods. M o s t were protests, expressions of dissatisfaction w i t h urban growth, exotic ideas and customs, foreign presence, higher taxes, forced labor, vaccination, loss of land, and affronts to local traditions. M u c h basic research w i l l be required before authoritative conclusions can be drawn from nineteenth-century popular protest. For the present, one can only speculate that larger numbers of L a t i n Americans, probably the majority, seemed to prefer their folk cultures. Some of the rural elites concurred w i t h popular sentiments, but their reasoning m a y have included a reluctance to disturb their comfortable position as m u c h as a loyalty to the past. T h e popular rebellions, protests, banditry, and m i l l e n a r i a n i s m , albeit diverse i n their L a t i n A m e r i c a n manifestations over the course of a century, had their roots i n folk culture. Those preferences by no means rejected change i n order to preserve the past unaltered. Rather, the folk cultures w o u l d mediate change over a longer period of time. T h e f o l k — a n d a portion of the elites—refused to denounce their Ibero-Afro-Indian heritage i n order to import wholesale ideas, artifacts, and life-styles of N o r t h e r n Europe 134

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and the U n i t e d States. T h e Indians, not surprisingly, looked to their o w n r i c h past w i t h its well-defined customs, languages, and relationships; still, they recognized the input of the conquerors' innovations. T h e Cruzob, for example, embraced cultural patterns w h i c h did not replicate those of their M a y a n forebears but rather demonstrated a pragmatic blend of cultures confected by centuries of exposure to European i n stitutions. Vague as the concept of "inorganic democracy" might appear i n retrospect, it did h o l d meaning to the gauchos w h o identified it w i t h their life-style, a unique adaptation of l i m i t e d aspects of European c i v i l i z a t i o n to the demands of the pampas. T h e gauchos' success i n their environment was their best resistance for a long t i m e to a determined Europeanization of Argentina fostered by the elites of Buenos Aires. T h e very persistence of folk cultures testifies to the satisfactory life-style they offered m i l l i o n s of L a t i n Americans. Doubtless the most successful resistance to Europeanizat i o n took place i n Paraguay, where, during the decades from 181o to 1870, a native alternative took form, influenced i n almost equal parts by the A m e r i c a n and the European p a s t . Since Paraguay challenged the trend to Europeanize more effectively than any other group or nation, it merits, as a f o r m of conclusion, special attention. Three caudillos dominated Paraguay i n the 1810-1870 period: José Gaspar Rodriguez de Francia (1814-1840), A n t o n i o Carlos Lopez (18401863), and Francisco Solano Lopez (1863-1870). Francia charted the course for Paraguay's autonomous revolution, w h i c h insured economic independence and possibly the only example of economic development i n nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a . W i t h only m i n i m a l contacts w i t h the outside world, the landlocked nation under Francia's leadership emerged as the most egalitarian society yet k n o w n i n the Western Hemisphere. H e accomplished this unique development by e l i m i n a t i n g from power several m i g h t y groups whose governments i n the rest of L a t i n A m e r i c a perpetuated the area's economic dependency. Francia nationalized the R o m a n C a t h o l i c C h u r c h , confiscating its temporal goods, abolishing the tithe, and decreeing religious freedom. T h u s he not only eliminated a potential rival but avoided the Church-State con135

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flicts w h i c h eroded national h a r m o n y throughout most of L a t i n A m e r i c a . H e removed the traditional, although s m a l l and modest, elites from power and destroyed their base of prestige and wealth by nationalizing most of their estates. In possession of the majority of the nation's land, the government established scores of prosperous state ranches and rented the rest for a n o m i n a l fee to anyone w i l l i n g to t i l l the soil. N o latifundia dominated the economy, nor d i d monocultural export deform it. Paraguay became self-sufficient i n the production of food. W h i l e the establishment of a state i r o n works and state textile and livestock industries provided employment for thousands of Paraguayans, s m a l l handicraft industries further augmented national production, thereby meeting the simple, basic needs of the people. T h r o u g h a rigidly enforced system of trade licenses and its o w n massive participation, the state prevented the growth of a native or foreign c o m m e r c i a l class; no foreign interests were permitted to penetrate the economy; nor d i d foreign debts, loans, or i n terest rates hobble it. Francia regulated commerce and controlled the economy to achieve national goals rather than to permit a s m a l l group to satisfy i n d i v i d u a l desires. N e w inform a t i o n indicates that a rudimentary educational system, satisfactory for the needs of a simple agrarian society, practically eliminated illiteracy. C o n t i n u i n g o n that autonomous course i n the three decades after Francia's death, the two Lópezes, father and son, saw to it that Paraguay not o n l y b u i l t a railroad, strung telegraph lines, and constructed its o w n m o d e r n steamship navy to ply its abundant waterways, but also put i n t o operation L a t i n A m e r i c a ' s first i r o n foundry. T h e two caudillos achieved these innovations w i t h o u t i n c u r r i n g foreign debt and for the benefit of the Paraguayans. Thereby, Paraguay continued to enjoy economic as w e l l as political independence, escaping the neo-colonial dependency characteristic of nineteenthcentury L a t i n A m e r i c a . T h e rapid and genuine development of Paraguay under its o w n f o r m of "inorganic democracy" alarmed the elitist governments i n neighboring states whose o w n export-oriented economies had grown but failed to develop. T h e y accused

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Paraguay of upsetting the balance of power i n the Río de l a Plata. M o r e realistically, they feared the appealing example Paraguay offered to wider segments of their o w n populations. Argentina, Brazil, and their puppet-state Uruguay joined forces i n the War of the Triple A l l i a n c e to bring " c i v i l i z a t i o n " to "barbarian" Paraguay (1864-1870). T h e Paraguayan masses proved their devotion to their C a u d i l l o by fighting tenaciously against their huge neighbors and keeping at bay armies m a n y times their size for over five years. Financed i n part by English loans, the allies waged a war of genocide, k i l l ing approximately 90 percent of Paraguay's adult male population. D u r i n g the five years of occupation following the war, the allies dismantled the popular institutions of Paraguay's autonomous revolution. T h e y opened the nation to foreign capital and attendant debt. The land passed from the hands of the state and the peasants into huge unused or underused estates typical of the land patterns of the rest of L a t i n A m e r ica. Paraguay's alternative to Europeanization was ended forcibly i n 1870, and thereafter the standard m o l d of nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a n institutions characterized that nation. T h e Paraguayan experiment is of considerable interest i n the study of nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a . It existed long enough, more than half a century, to offer a viable alternative to Europeanization w i t h its cosmetic modernization and pervasive and deepening dependency. Paraguay provides the best example of what might have occurred had local traditions and preferences w o n i n the intense cultural clash w h i c h convulsed L a t i n A m e r i c a . It offered an example of folk society absorbing and i m p l e m e n t i n g selected aspects of European technology for the benefit of the folk. T h u s it represented an alternative to the dichotomy of either folk society or Europeanization. Modernization and

Impoverishment

M o d e r n i z a t i o n triumphed over the folk cultures. By the end of the nineteenth century the L a t i n A m e r i c a n nations had acquired m a n y of the accouterments of progress. Railroads ex-

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panded, the ports boasted the newest equipment, telegraph and telephone wires h u m m e d . A n incipient industrialization was under way and the cities were on the threshold of a major population explosion. Intellectual, cultural, financial, commercial, and social l i n k s w i t h Europe and the U n i t e d States were strengthened. M a n y people celebrated the apparent transformation of L a t i n A m e r i c a and hailed the evident progress as desirable. Certainly, benefits accrued to some L a t i n Americans, but that c o i n of prosperity also revealed another side. Progress did not alter the fundamental institutions i n herited from the colonial past. Ironically, it strengthened the negative aspects of some fundamental ones such as the latifundia w i t h its monoculture, labor exploitation, and socioeconomic privileges for the landowner to the detriment of the rural masses. Real or meaningful modernization was impossible to achieve because the elites refused to reform the i n herited colonial institutions. T h e cosmetic effects of modernization satisfied them, just as the consequences of thoroughly i m p l e m e n t i n g their goal frightened them. T h i s is understandable: they profited from their relationship w i t h the metropolis. In fact, the elites enjoyed the best of two worlds: the superficial modernization enhanced their immediate comforts and flattered their image of themselves, w h i l e at the same t i m e it permitted t h e m to blame the "barbaric" masses for delaying or frustrating further modernization. U n m i s t a k a b l y , the dependency of a l l of L a t i n A m e r i c a deepened as modernization accelerated. T h u s the i m p l e m e n tation of the modernization, either chosen by the L a t i n A m e r ican elites or imposed by outside capital investment, actually debilitated L a t i n A m e r i c a . T h e n e w railroads, ports, steamships, technical aid, and loans tied and subordinated the L a t i n A m e r i c a n economy to England and the U n i t e d States and to a lesser degree to France and Germany. In a comparison of the relations of Great Britain w i t h Uruguay and N e w Zealand i n the nineteenth century, R o b i n W. W i n k s has concluded that the South A m e r i c a n n a t i o n was as m u c h a colony of the Briti s h as N e w Zealand w a s . C h i l e offers one example of h o w m o d e r n i z a t i o n could 136

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contribute to change a relatively balanced export economy into one more dependent o n the exportation of a single natural product. Throughout the first three-quarters of the nineteenth century, C h i l e exported both agricultural goods and minerals. In the 1845-1850 period, agriculture accounted for 45 percent of total exports, w h i l e silver, gold, and copper accounted for most of the rest. By the opening of the decade of the 1880s that balance had disappeared. D u e to the upsurge i n nitrate production, m i n i n g represented 78 percent of the exports i n 1881. Thereafter, C h i l e depended heavily on the export of one mineral, first nitrates and then copper, for its export earnings. The b u i l d i n g of railroads, the improvement of other forms of transportation, the renovation of ports, the importation of machinery and technology, the invitations to foreign experts, the increase i n foreign investment, a l l encouraged modernizat i o n but also contributed to the concentration on m i n e r a l exports. Costa R i c a provides a most sobering example of h o w modernization allowed foreigners to take control of a national economy. To market larger quantities of coffee and thus earn the money to modernize, during the period 1870-1890 the government encouraged the construction of a railroad from the highlands where the coffee grew to Puerto Limón for shipment abroad. T h e onerous loans overburdened the treasury as the government paid usurious interest rates to unscrupulous foreign money-lenders. Further, the government bestowed on M i n o r K e i t h , the chief engineer, 800,000 acres, land w h i c h fronted on the railroad and later became the center of the plantations of the U n i t e d Fruit Company. Even so, the railroad remained i n foreign hands. British investors also controlled the ports, mines, electric lighting, major public works, and foreign commerce as w e l l as the principal domestic marketplaces. In short, Costa R i c a surrendered a l l its economic i n dependence and mortgaged its future i n order to attain the accouterments of modernization. N o evidence exists that any Costa Ricans except a t i n y elite benefited. T h e extent to w h i c h economic development resulted from the elitist policies that characterized nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a requires clarification. D e v e l o p m e n t is the u t i l 137

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ization of a nation's potential for the greatest benefit of the largest number of the inhabitants, and must be contrasted w i t h g r o w t h , w h i c h denotes s i m p l y n u m e r i c a l accumulation, and w i t h the type of m o d e r n i z a t i o n the L a t i n A m e r i c a n s i m ported. M o r e often than not, the elites w i l l f u l l y or innocently confused development w i t h growth or modernization, a not u n c o m m o n confusion w h i c h s t i l l characterizes studies of L a t i n A m e r i c a . G r o w t h occurred, although it was sporadic and c y c l i c a l . M o d e r n i z a t i o n took place, too, but of a type more useful to the metropolis than to L a t i n A m e r i c a . Scant evidence of development exists. T h e elites' devotion to E u rope i n the last analysis subjected L a t i n America's well-being to that of their distant mentor and fostered an economic dependency w h i c h entailed p o l i t i c a l subordination, cultural i m i t a t i o n , and social inequity. Because the elites contrived or adopted the national policies, whatever the outside pressures, and enforced those policies, however erratically or imperfectly, they bear m u c h of the responsibility for mortgaging L a t i n America's future and perpetuating or increasing the poverty of the majority. 139

W i t h d i m i n i s h i n g access to land and accelerating commercialization of agriculture, the rural masses were v i c t i m s of contracting economic options. T h e i r wages stagnated or declined. N u t r i t i o n a l standards deteriorated. In short, the quality of life for the majority f e l l . Perhaps the most thorough documentation of the declining quality of life exists for rural M e x i c o . In 1810, total corn production averaged two pounds per M e x i c a n per day; by 1919 it had fallen to less than one p o u n d . It has been estimated that real wages i n 1910 were but one-quarter of those of 1 8 1 0 . Nineteenth-century commentators on the life-style of the rural Indian masses often observed that it was worse than during the colonial period. In 1834, L a P a l a b r a noted, "The Indians today find themselves i n a worse situat i o n than under the vice-royalty," an observation repeated i n 1887 by E l L i b r e y A c e p t a d o Masón: "For t h e m [the Indians], we are worse than the conquerors. T h e Indians are the docile instruments of the reactionaries, and if they l o o k to the past it is because their present situation is worse than the 1 4 0

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old o n e . " T h e misery of M e x i c o ' s Indian and mestizo masses increased to dismal proportions during the three and a half decades of the Díaz government, w h e n their buying power slipped r a p i d l y . Bean and corn per capita production fell; corn prices r o s e . T h e rural laborers were eating less of the basic agricultural crops i n 1910 than they had i n 1 8 7 7 . D u r i n g the last half, and particularly the last quarter, of the nineteenth century, the quality of life of the Argentine rural masses sharply declined. T h e export boom benefited the large landowner but bypassed entire regions and whole social classes. Real wages of the rural workers d e c l i n e d . C a r l Solberg has concluded that between 1884 and 1899 l wages fell a full 20 percent. In the province of Tucumán, the newspaper L a Razón pointed out on several occasions i n the 1880S that Brazilian slaves lived better than the local peons did. The sugar boom of that province i n no way alleviated the misery and debt peonage w h i c h became increasingly characteristic of the w o r k i n g class t h e r e . For Guatemala, D a v i d J. M c C r e e r y has indicated the negative effects of coffee exports and national legislation on the Indians' standard of l i v i n g during the last quarter of the c e n t u r y . In a seminal study of C h i l e a n rural labor, A r n o l d J. Bauer has noted that rising export demands made on the haciendas after mid-century caused deterioration of the quality of life among the workers. T h e old system of i n q u i l i n a j e became more demanding, imposing a heavier work load on rural labor w h i l e at the same t i m e the i n q u i l i n o s received smaller land a l l o t m e n t s . By the last decade of the century, real wages for the C h i l e a n rural workers "most l i k e l y " were f a l l i n g . 143

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For Brazil, the coffee boom of the last half of the century brought prosperity to a l i m i t e d region of that vast subcontinent. There, per capita income increased; but those figures can be misleading. N a t h a n i e l H . Leff warns us, " W h i l e the income of domestic landowners was increasing, the elastic supply of labor had a dampening effect on upward wage movements. Under these conditions, the growth i n incomes consequent upon export expansion probably led to an increase i n the inequality of income distribution w i t h i n the expanding export r e g i o n . " Whatever prosperity characterized the cof153

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fee b o o m i n the Southeast had to be weighed w i t h declines elsewhere i n the economy, particularly i n the Northeast, where the dominant sugar industry was undergoing a series of prolonged crises. In that region, real wages deteriorated after 1870 and the rural wage earner suffered a falling standard of l i v i n g . After an exhaustive study of that sugar i n dustry, Peter L. Eisenberg concludes that "the free rural laborers i n the later nineteenth century enjoyed l i t t l e material advantage over the s l a v e . " W i l l i a m Paul McGreevey, i n A n E c o n o m i c H i s t o r y of C o l o m b i a , 1 8 4 5 - 1 9 3 0 , offers one of the most damning indictments of the effects of the pseudo-European institutions on the welfare of the majority. H e concludes, "Income apparently declined for significant groups of the C o l o m b i a n population i n the second half of the nineteenth c e n t u r y . " F r o m the evidence n o w at hand, a prel i m i n a r y conclusion can be drawn that for the rural masses, deprived of land, offered l o w salaries whose buying power d i m i n i s h e d over the course of a century, and forced to subsist on an increasingly restricted and less nutritious diet, the quality of life declined as the century waned. 1 5 4

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T h e above discussion concentrates on the rural sector because an overwhelming majority of the L a t i n A m e r i c a n s i n the nineteenth century l i v e d i n the countryside, and because more data on their standard of l i v i n g are available. Probably the situation for the majority of the urban dwellers was no better. M c G r e e v e y discloses a shift of income i n urban Col u m b i a from poor artisans to well-to-do m e r c h a n t s . Real industrial wages i n M e x i c o amounted to less i n 1910 than they had a generation e a r l i e r . James R. Scobie has provided some valuable if bleak statistics o n the rising cost of l i v i n g in Buenos Aires, 1870-1910, coupled w i t h some declining salaries. C o n c l u d i n g that the cost of l i v i n g for the urban w o r k i n g class was disproportionately high, Scobie offers these statistics to illustrate the economic problems the f a m i l y faced: "The top m o n t h l y wage a day laborer could earn i n 1901 amounted to 70 pesos m o n e d a n a t i o n a l (m$n), or the equivalent of 30 gold pesos. T h e estimated m i n i m u m expenses for an average worker f a m i l y totaled 100 pesos m $ n , or 43 gold p e s o s . " A l d o Ferrer also testifies that prices out157

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stripped wages i n Argentine cities, allocating to the workers a s m a l l share of the income generated by i n d u s t r y . In her studies of wages and prices i n R i o de Janeiro, Eulália M . L. Lobo has noted, " A general tendency of lower acquisitive power of salaries manifested itself i n the second half of the nineteenth c e n t u r y . " Increasingly, other research i n other areas of L a t i n A m e r i c a outlines the same urban p a t t e r n . A stagnant or declining quality of life was only one disadvantage modernization inflicted on the majority. It also subverted their cultural and spiritual values. M o d e r n i z a t i o n as it occurred i n nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a d i d not seem to benefit the largest number of the people to the degree that the folk cultures or societies had. Folk or popular caudillos arose i n nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a w h o possessed the ability to mediate folk and European values and under whose leadership the majority seemed to draw some benefits. Carrera, Rosas, and Francia serve as the best examples. Some regional folk societies, C a nudos i n Brazil or the Cruzob i n Yucatan, managed also to provide benefits for the majority. It must be remembered, however, that most local or regional folk leaders remain anonymous, unrecorded by history. From a l l accounts the people under those folk-oriented governments identified w i t h their policies, enjoyed psychic benefits, and seemingly achieved material well-being. From the available evidence, Paraguay under the folk caudillos seems to be the nation i n nineteenthcentury L a t i n A m e r i c a w h i c h offers the best example of genuine development as contrasted w i t h growth. Further, that development was accompanied by some modernization. True, the life-style of the rustic Paraguayan population was simple to the extreme. Yet, if recent research is correct the people had access to land, ate a nourishing diet, enjoyed adequate housing and m i n i m a l education, and felt the satisfaction of close c o m m u n a l life. In short, the quality of life for the m a jority was satisfactory or better. There is reason to believe that nowhere else i n L a t i n A m e r i c a over such a long t i m e span did the majority so benefit. Elsewhere, progress as conceived and implemented by the elites tended not only to impoverish but to deculturate the 161

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majority. A s the folk cultures lost to modernization, the options for the majority d i m i n i s h e d . T h e varieties of life-styles were more evident and divergent at the opening of the century than at the closing. T h e contrasting life-styles of the majority under their folk cultures and under the elite-directed and elite-oriented modernization suggest w h y the majority often protested v i o l e n t l y against rapid modernization and w h y these protests were answered w i t h equal ferocity by the elites, w h o felt they benefited from modernization. Those struggles marked the last effort of the folk to protect their o w n cultures. T h e nineteenth century was a violent century, and the extent of the conflicts s t i l l begs further research. To broaden the v i e w of L a t i n A m e r i c a ' s recent past to i n clude the intense cultural conflicts opens a wide range of i n frequently mentioned topics, not the least of w h i c h w o u l d be a discussion of c o m m u n a l life-styles advocated by the majority. Such a v i e w diversifies an otherwise homogeneous history as w e l l as focuses attention on the plurality of solutions to L a t i n America's problems of development. T h e study of cultural conflicts provides some insight into the constant enigma of prevalent poverty i n a potentially wealthy region. Finally, it offers an interpretation w h i c h gives greater meaning to the diverse events i n nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a . It was not after a l l , a century of random conflicts, meaningless c i v i l wars, and pervasive chaos, but one i n w h i c h those w h o favored modernization struggled w i t h those loyal to their folk cultures. T h e t r i u m p h of modernization set the course for twentieth-century history.

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Thomas

E. skidmore

Workers and Soldiers: Urban Labor M o v e m e n t s and Elite Responses i n Twentieth-Century Latin America

F O R T H R E E D E C A D E S m u c h of the study of labor i n L a t i n A m e r i c a by N o r t h A m e r i c a n and European scholars has been part of the study of labor i n "developing" countries. In this approach L a t i n A m e r i c a is included w i t h the " n e w " nations of Africa, South A s i a , and Southeast A s i a , most of w h i c h escaped European colonial rule only after 1945. T h e historical development of these " n e w " nations has been telescoped, leaving labor organizations w i t h no t i m e to establish their bona fides as authentic and autonomous. M o s t often they have been subordinated to, sometimes absorbed into, the prevailing independence p o l i t i c a l movement. A s a result, i t is difficult, if not impossible to sort out the history of organized labor and analyze its independent role. 1

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L a t i n A m e r i c a does not fit this m o l d . P o l i t i c a l independence was achieved a century and a half ago. There followed a long period i n w h i c h economic development and labor organization could take place. Authors such as M i l l e n , Sufrin, Kerr, and Galenson, w h o wrote and published i n the late 1950s and early 1960s, are of little help on L a t i n A m e r i c a w h e n they attempt to explain the behavior of labor throughout the developing w o r l d . M o s t such approaches are further weakened by reliance on the dated and unsatisfactory concept of "modernization." Because the variables are ill-defined, the factual documentation thin, and the level of generalization high, these surveys do not offer useful analytical approaches. M o r e helpful for students of L a t i n A m e r i c a n labor history are the research findings i n two other areas. One is the study of labor h i s t o r y — b r o a d l y c o n c e i v e d — i n the U.S. and Europe, 3

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where comparative investigation offers important clues for L a t i n A m e r i c a n i s t s . We should begin by noting that the writing of European and N o r t h A m e r i c a n working-class history has been recently challenged by a new approach. A revisionist group has sought to broaden the focus of labor history to i n clude a l l w o r k i n g people (defined as blue-collar workers), not s i m p l y those i n unions, as i n most traditional historiography. There has also been a call to look at the f u l l range of workers' lives, to see h o w they have used their culture and collective strength to survive the relentless demands for conformity and routinization imposed by the spread of industry, T h e goal is to write a new labor history, seen from "the bott o m u p . " Since the unorganized workers have been more n u merous than the unionized, and since sources on t h e m are often harder to locate, the task is challenging. There is the further difficulty of finding satisfactory analytical concepts for the "new" labor history. 4

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Should not this broader approach, w h i c h has opened new vistas for U.S. and European labor history, be equally relevant for L a t i n A m e r i c a ? Yes, but w i t h an important qualification. It is true that historians of L a t i n A m e r i c a n labor have also concentrated on unions, organizational leaders, and formal labor relations structures; but their research has been so scant that they have yet to produce an "orthodox" literature large enough to justify a full-scale revisionist reaction. For L a t i n A m e r i c a we need work on both fronts: increased research on unions and legal structures, as w e l l as social history research and history written from the perspective of the workers, especially the unorganized. But i t is essential to retain a critical attitude toward the revisionist scholarship on U.S. and European labor. O n l y i n this way can L a t i n Americanists avoid the temptation to apply mechanically the revisionist gospel to the complex reality of L a t i n A m e r i c a n working-class history. T h e second revisionist trend i n U.S., and especially European, labor historiography is the reexamination of national and international labor movements whose history has been neglected or distorted by previous interpretations. T h e most obvious cases are A n a r c h i s m , Anarcho-Syndicalism, and Syn7

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dicalism, as w e l l as the international movements and organizations outside of the C o m i n t e r n . Past distortions have resulted from the historiographical (and political) dominance of the left exercised by C o m m u n i s t , especially Stalinist, historians and activists. A s i n the case of the revisionist t u r n to labor history from the "bottom u p , " this attempt to repair historiographical omissions and distortions came to the fore only i n the 1960s. Here, too, L a t i n Americanists have m u c h to learn. T h e second broad area of study offering potential help to historians of L a t i n A m e r i c a n labor is labor economics. It is striking h o w seldom students of labor history, even that of the U.S. and Europe, pose the questions that labor economists routinely ask about contemporary labor systems. It is true that the theoretical orientation of labor economics has recently been i n flux. T h e long-dominant (in the U.S. and Europe) neo-classical assumptions are under attack—leading to debates over the character and prevalence of "segmented" or " d u a l " labor m a r k e t s — y e t labor historians have seldom turned to the concepts of any of these contending analytical approaches. Here again, students of L a t i n A m e r i c a n labor history can benefit by l o o k i n g closely at the rapidly growing body of research on the nature of labor markets i n the developing world, i n c l u d i n g L a t i n A m e r i c a . F r o m that w o r k historians can find ideas and questions of immediate value i n their research and w r i t i n g . 8

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T h e N e g l e c t of L a t i n A m e r i c a n Causes and Cures

Labor

History:

U n t i l the mid-1960s L a t i n A m e r i c a n labor history remained a curiously neglected field, w i t h the exception of a few, relatively isolated, figures, such as Robert A l e x a n d e r . M o s t writing about L a t i n A m e r i c a n history assigned a m i n o r role to urban labor. Even where labor's role could not be ignored, as in the early M e x i c a n Revolution or Perón's rise to power, the explanations have been markedly unsatisfactory. By contrast, rural workers seem to have fared better, perhaps i n part because historians have correctly sought to acknowledge the 12

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overwhelmingly rural nature of L a t i n A m e r i c a n societies. Yet h o w can we be sure of urban labor's relative unimportance u n t i l we have studied it carefully? T h i s relative neglect has begun to be corrected i n recent years. A rising tide of books, articles, and anthologies indicates a broad-based interest. T h e Fifth M e e t i n g of M e x i c a n and N o r t h A m e r i c a n Historians (held i n Pátzcuaro i n October 1977), for example, was devoted entirely to labor h i s t o r y . T h e Consejo Latinoamericano de Ciencias Sociales ( C L A C S O ) has a c o m m i s s i o n of L a t i n A m e r i c a n scholars specializing i n labor movements, w h i c h has published conference papers. T h e list of topics proposed by recently successful research grant applicants confirms the growing interest i n labor hist o r y . A new journal, L a t i n A m e r i c a n P e r s p e c t i v e s , of radical orientation, has published numerous articles on labor and labor m o v e m e n t s . T h e L a t i n A m e r i c a n Program of the Woodrow W i l s o n International Center for Scholars (Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C.) held a workshop i n late 1978 devoted to " U r b a n Working Class Culture and Social Protest i n L a t i n A m e r i c a . " The signs are unmistakable: a much-neglected topic has moved center stage. 13

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W h y should L a t i n A m e r i c a n labor history have been neglected? First, it should be noted that U.S. historians of L a t i n A m e r i c a have shared the elite-oriented approach generally dominant i n N o r t h A m e r i c a n historiography. The non-elites are m u c h more difficult to study. Basic documentation is often lacking and the individuals remain faceless. Furthermore, the style and behavior of L a t i n A m e r i c a n elites have proved more appealing to historians from abroad. Few foreign researchers have found themselves drawn to the grim w o r l d of the w o r k i n g class. A m o n g Latin Americans there has been more interest, but usually from m i l i t a n t intellectuals w h o were veterans of leftist organizational struggles. A l t h o u g h often informative, their accounts are usually apologies for their past positions, betraying the bitter struggles w i t h i n the labor movement. O n l y since about the mid-1960s have L a t i n A m e r i c a n scholars, and then primarily of the younger generation, published m u c h on labor history. T h i s neglect has been especially noticeable u n t i l recently 19

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for the years between 1914 and 1927, the great era of labor m o b i l i z a t i o n before 1945. It was the h i g h point of the A n archist, Anarcho-Syndicalist, and Syndicalist influence, w h e n the capital cities of a l l the major L a t i n A m e r i c a n nations were rocked by general strikes. L a t i n A m e r i c a suddenly seemed to be joining the class confrontations shaking G e r m a n y and Russia, as w e l l as the U.S. and m u c h of the rest of E u r o p e . It is at these critical m o m e n t s — m a s s protests, general strikes, i n tensified ties between the u n i o n i z e d and the n o n u n i o n i z e d — that we can learn m u c h about the nature of the w o r k i n g class, its organizations, the manner i n w h i c h the dominant elites chose to respond. Yet this h i g h tide of A n a r c h i s t and Syndicalist m o b i l i z a t i o n has remained a misunderstood chapter of L a t i n A m e r i c a n history. T h e problem stems i n part from a heavy dependence on monographs or m e m o i r s by participants. In Argentina, for example, accounts by former A n archists and Anarcho-Syndicalists are numerous, but for obvious reasons must be used w i t h caution. In Brazil the Anarchists produced fewer works, and i n C h i l e practically none. In a l l three countries, however, C o m m u n i s t authors have published extensively, often furnishing the most w i d e l y read accounts. A s a result, the role of C o m m u n i s t activists is especially w e l l k n o w n . Yet these authors have often rew r i t t e n history i n order to identify, according to prevailing dogmas at the t i m e of w r i t i n g , the rising proletariat, for w h o m the C o m m u n i s t parties w o u l d furnish the leaders. G i v e n the fact that Anarchist, Anarcho-Syndicalist, and Syndicalist-led movements faded rapidly i n the 1920s, C o m m u n i s t s c o u l d more easily argue that such a fate was the inevitable result of an inappropriately conceived ("petit bourgeois") and i n c o m petently applied (suicidal general strikes) labor ideology. In v i e w of the bitter struggles of the 1920s between Anarchists and C o m m u n i s t s i n a l l three countries, accounts by the latter obviously must be handled carefully. There is another possible explanation for the neglect of L a t i n A m e r i c a n labor history. Perhaps labor, especially organized labor, deserves its neglect. Advocates of this view, probably s t i l l a majority among scholars, argue that these movements have been too weak and divided to be important. Where 20

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appearing to play a significant role, they have been mere instruments for a Caudillo, often in the guise of a populist, such as Juan Perón, Getúlio Vargas or Victor Haya de la Torre. By this logic, labor was never to play in Latin America a role analogous to the one it played at crucial moments i n the history of the North Atlantic industrial economies. Any initiatives that benefited labor (welfare systems) or helped to organize it (labor codes) are seen as unilateral moves by shrewd politicians who stayed ahead of labor organizers and thereby proved able, especially in Brazil, to co-opt the fledgling movements. In short, labor never attained the strength to bring its collective weight to bear within a pluralistic social structure. There is a third possible explanation, which applies especially to North American historians and social scientists. Labor movements i n Latin America generally have differed greatly from their U.S. counterparts. In the U.S., unions usually developed as "bread-and-butter" organizations—concentrating on immediate material gains for the members. That meant focusing on the employer and the place of employment. Although political activism by U.S. labor unions has increased since 1945, it has seldom approached the degree of "politicization" common in Latin America. Latin American deviance from the North American model disturbed government and labor union circles in the U.S. Many genuinely believed (and still believe) that all groups in Latin America would benefit from union concentration on job-related issues. That emphasis would make possible, they thought, at least a partial repetition of the pattern of successful pluralistic bargaining typical of the developed economies. Often these observers also worried that the politicized unions of Latin America would fall under the control of radically anti-U.S. leaders —Communists or militant nationalists. Given the Cold War climate i n which U.S. elites have operated since 1946, that worry was a serious factor. A reorientation of Latin American labor movements away from political adventuring would therefore serve the dual purpose of promoting healthier economic development and helping strengthen the Western Hemisphere against inroads by the ideological and strategic enemy, the U.S.S.R. The net effect of this worry was to dis22

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tort analysis of Latin American labor history by concentrating on how unions could be changed, rather than understanding how the workers had come to act as they did, and how the elite reaction had established the subsequent framework of labor relations. Given the reasons for past neglect, why should there be an upsurge of interest now? One reason is the recent course of events i n Latin America. The last fifteen years have brought a wave of military coups, frequently inflicting brutal repression of a kind few observers i n the early 1960s would have thought possible. A key target for this repression has been organized labor. The Chilean military, since seizing power i n September 1973, has regarded unions and union leaders as among the most dangerous enemies of the state. The junta's repressive assault on organized labor, killing thousands i n the weeks following the coup, has no parallel i n the modern history of major Latin American nations. The Chilean junta clearly fears labor as a powerful actor, and apparently w i l l take any steps considered necessary to keep it under control. Argentina offers another interesting case. Despite the strenuous efforts of every government between Perón's overthrow i n 1955 and his re-election i n 1973, the Peronist movement, largely based on urban labor, survived as one of the most powerful participants i n Argentine politics. One factor which helped maintain Peronist solidarity was the recurring cycle of economic stabilization attempts, which invariably resulted i n falling real wage rates and attempts to reduce the work force on the deficit-ridden government railway system. The stabilization programs of Arturo Frondizi (1958-1962) and Juan Carlos Ongania (1966-1970), for example, both met stiff worker resistance. The other major nation of South America, Brazil, might at first seem an exception to this pattern. Had not Getúlio Vargas, during his authoritarian Estado Novo (1937-1945), created one of the most easily controllable labor movements? It is certainly true that Brazilian labor never attained the level of institutional autonomy, political consciousness, and success i n influencing political events that was achieved by Argentine and Chilean labor. Yet it is worth remembering that it 25

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was President João Goulart's unwillingness to renounce his ties with militant labor leaders that helped convince important "legalist" Army commanders to join the coup to oust h i m i n 1964. Not coincidentally, it was a challenge from industrial workers i n 1968, led by wildcat leaders i n Minas Gerais and São Paulo, that helped greatly to precipitate the "coup within a coup," institutionalizing a more authoritarian regime. Government surveillance of Brazilian unions has remained extremely rigorous since then, although with a relative easing i n 1978. The pattern of conflict is unambiguous. Organized labor i n all three countries is seen by those i n power—military officers and their technocratic civilian collaborators—as a dangerous source of opposition. How could this have come about? How have Latin American workers, once considered eminently manipulable, been able to frighten the guardians of national security? This historical puzzle, arising out of the current political facts of life, has helped to stir interest i n the history of Latin American labor. The upsurge of U.S. academic interest in this area also owes much to the changing assumptions of U.S. academics themselves. The trend has been steadily away from the oncedominant liberal developmentalist assumptions. In part, reality has forced scholars to rethink their politico-ideological positions. The liberal developmentalist logic of the Alliance for Progress, for example, has been rendered irrelevant by the tide of authoritarian takeovers since the early 1960s. Contributing to that tide was one element of U.S. Latin American policy—the active support and encouragement of the "counterinsurgency" security forces, police, and military. Most U.S. liberals had accepted the argument that reformist governments needed to be able to defend themselves against armed insurrectionaries. As it turned out, however, the security forces became the government (or the dominant force within the government), with reformist regimes little more than a dim memory. In some cases the U.S. government tried to induce Latin American labor leaders to "destabilize" regimes disliked by the U.S. government. Seeing this documented i n practice, as in the financing of some of former Chilean Presi28

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dent Salvador Allende's most effective opponents (truckers), has sobered academics who earlier regarded the charges of U.S. complicity i n coups to have been insufficiently proven. In short, many liberal academics, like many other liberal Americans, have finally had to come to terms with the darker side of the interventionism inherent i n John F. Kennedy's ambitious offensive i n Latin America. This shift i n ideological orientation of U.S. Latin Americanists has been reinforced by wider trends i n North American academic circles. The younger generation of social science area specialists has proved more ideologically heterogeneous than its elders. The influence of Marxist, or, more accurately, Marxian, ideas has grown. The wide acceptance of differing versions of "dependency" as an explanatory model is a further indicator. The increased influence of Marxian analysis has brought a much stronger interest i n the working class, which is assigned a central role i n the classic Marxist prognosis. Taken together, these ideological trends among U.S. Latin Americanists help further explain the boomlet i n Latin American labor history. That trend is perhaps even more evident i n Western Europe, where British, West German, and French social scientists specializing i n Latin America have emphasized class analysis as the key to understanding modern Latin America. Finally, this historiographical trend has captured the majority of social scientists trained w i t h i n Latin America i n the last several decades. Thus the shift i n ideological climate among Latin Americanists has been worldwide; one spin-off has been greater attention to the historical role of labor and labor movements i n modern Latin America. How far has this increased research and publication brought us? Is the existing information—including quantitative data and documented monographs—sufficient to serve as the base for comparative study? Only a few years ago, the answer would have been no. The book-length syntheses available until recently are all seriously deficient, largely because their authors attempt to generalize too much on the basis of inadequate research literature. The result has been superficial, and therefore seriously misleading, analysis. That situation has changed. The recent spurt i n research has created a more 31

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secure base for carefully formulated, if necessarily tentative, comparative analysis. Done with care, such analysis can prove useful i n the continuing research effort, which is unlikely to diminish. Because of this upsurge of interest, it is especially important to raise basic questions about assumptions and methodology. Fortunately there are now available some excellent explorations i n establishing typologies and comparative categories for the analysis of labor and labor's role in Latin America. A l l deserve careful study and discussion. I shall mention three, although they by no means exhaust the field. The most ambitious is J. Samuel Valenzuela's proposed conceptual framework for analyzing labor movements, elaborated as an introductory chapter to his comparative study, now i n progress, of the evolution of the Chilean and French labor movements. A second overview, by Ruth and David Collier, is restricted to Latin America and focuses on the varying degree to which governments have mixed "inducements" and "constraints" i n attempting to control the relationship between labor and the state by means of corporatist structures. A third survey, by Elizabeth Jelin, analyzes recent scholarship on the complex web of factors such as social background of workers, aspirations and class consciousness, economic structures and ideologies. This essay is an examination of one aspect of one chapter in Latin American labor history: how the reaction of ruling elites to the challenge of the largely Anarchist-led urban labor mobilization i n Argentina, Brazil, and Chile i n the early 1920s has influenced the shape of labor relations i n our own day. Such an essay runs obvious risks. Concentrating on a single theme makes it difficult to maintain perspective on the total context i n which elite-worker interaction occurred. How can that relationship be understood apart from an examination of the general lines of class conflict? How can we assess the role of organized labor without knowing the level of economic development and the principal characteristics of the labor market? How can we analyze elite reactions without an intimate knowledge of the socioeconomic and political relationships within the ruling elites? In short, any attempt at com35

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parative historical analysis of the labor relations systems at this stage of historical knowledge must be tentative. Comparative history is always risky. The drawing of comparisons invariably brings oversimplifications and therefore distortions. Yet comparative analysis can also raise questions that a single-country focus might miss. Within the Third World, Latin America has the advantage of presenting an array of independent countries that share basic characteristics— language, culture, colonial past, economic development— while at the same time exhibiting significant differences. With due attention to both similarities and differences, we should be able to suggest lines of analysis that w i l l enable us to understand the particular cases better. This is especially true i n the area of labor history, where the parallels i n Latin America are often so striking. 36

The 1 9 2 0 s — F a t e f u l

Precedents

It is necessary to begin by examining briefly the present-day (late 1978) conditions for urban organized labor i n Latin Amerca, since so many of the current questions about labor history have been prompted by the recent fate of unions. A l l three countries i n question—Argentina, Brazil, and Chile—are currently ruled by the military, with the degree of civilian collaboration varying from Brazil, where it is greatest, to Chile, where it is least. In all cases the most important decisions are made by the top ranks of military officers. One of the military's greatest concerns has been organized labor. Each military-dominated government has assumed the power to control decisions concerning labor's most vital interests— wages, working conditions, fringe benefits, and rights to organize. Labor has had to reconcile itself to the measures approved by the military-dominated government bureaucracies that set labor policies. Outright strikes have been virtually nonexistent i n Chile since 1973 and i n Brazil between 1968 and 1978. Moves to organize them i n those countries have invited merciless repression, although some relaxation occurred in Brazil beginning i n early 1978. Argentina's stronger tradition of union initiative has been harder to suppress, but

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labor leaders there have been forced to show great prudence also. In the area of labor relations, the three military regimes have approximated what, i n a very different context, might be called a "command economy." Why this heavy hand toward labor? Viewed from the short term, all three cases could be explained by the need to undertake unpopular anti-inflation policies. These regimes came to power when inflation and balance-of-payments deficits had made their economies dangerously vulnerable. In all three cases international credit, both public and private from the capitalist world, had been virtually closed off. A l l three regimes were required to launch stabilization programs. Since no capitalist country i n recent years has succeeded i n carrying out economic stabilization without producing a drop i n real wages (usually very large), and since Argentina, Brazil, and Chile have all had extensive experience with organized labor's resistance to stabilization programs, these military governments might have been expected to seek strong control over labor. A l l three cases of antilabor policies, however, have more profound causes. These governments have proclaimed themselves "antipolitical"; all blame their countries' distress on the alleged incompetence, dishonesty, or treachery of politicians. They have been most aggressive against the radically leftist politicians and labor leaders. Few channels of political opposition are left open. Just as Chile was once the most democratic system, its military regime has been the most draconian, abolishing all political parties and burning the electoral rolls. The open pluralistic political competition for which that country was famous has been repudiated. Chile has entered an era "free" of politics. In 1976, Argentina's military government took stern measures, although less sweeping than those i n Chile. It suspended Congress and all political parties, thereby signifying a hiatus i n competitive politics; but there was no wholesale repudiation. Brazil's military guardians, having come to power i n a less radicalized political atmosphere than their counterparts i n Argentina or Chile, also found themselves i n their 37

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second year (1965) pushed to abolish the old political parties (replaced by two government-sanctioned new ones); they have allowed a limited range of continuing civilian participation, subject to intermittent intervention. This South American scene contrasts sharply with the situation that prevailed i n the early 1960s. At the onset of that decade the U.S. was promoting its Alliance for Progress, based on the assumption that economic development, social reform, and political democracy not only could but would blend harmoniously in Latin America. Meanwhile, the U.S. was to send capital and technology at increased levels. Everyone knew that much would depend on Latin American leadership. A n d in several countries skillful reformists were at the helm. Jânio Quadros i n Brazil and Arturo Frondizi i n Argentina seemed to promise the dynamic leadership that the Alliance demanded. Both were committed to open politics; unfortunately, both soon learned its perils. Quadros lasted only a few months, victimized by his own bad judgment. He dramatically announced his resignation, apparently to await a clamorous call back to power. Instead, his resignation was accepted. Frondizi lasted longer. But he, too, fell—the victim of a military coup in 1962 after an open election produced Peronist victories that the anti-Perón officers could not stomach. It took longer for Chile to join the ranks of the authoritarians. Eduardo Frei's presidency (1964-1970) was a kind of coda for the Alliance for Progress. Chile was touted as a showcase for U.S. aid, which flowed at a per capita rate far higher than for any other Latin American nation. But Frei's reformism did not succeed i n heading off the left. Allende's election and succession to the presidency i n 1970 presented the greatest challenge ever to his country's much respected political sophistication. Chilean democracy could not withstand the heat of ideological polarization. Conspirators on the right liquidated the Unidad Popular government i n a brutal coup (1973) that dramatized the military-labor confrontation far more painfully than had been the case i n Argentina and Brazil. Why did these three countries converge i n the pattern of their politics? Why does the confrontation of soldier versus

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worker seem to symbolize such a large part of their current political dilemma? What clues can be found i n the history of elite responses to the mobilization of urban labor? We need to examine the years of the Anarchist- and Anarcho-Syndicalist-led labor protest to understand the legal and political context of contemporary labor relations i n Argentina, Brazil, and Chile. These years are important because all three countries saw the rise of militant urban workingclass movements which seriously challenged both employers and the state by job actions, boycotts, and general strikes. Employers, as well as the ruling elites and governments i n all three countries, had to respond. What we need to compare here are the similarities and differences i n the patterns of interaction among employers, workers, and politicians, along with landowners, professionals, and the military. If there are similarities i n urban labor's mobilization during the decade after the great protests began at the end of World War I, there were striking differences i n the elite's response. In particular, we shall find that the legal framework of labor relations received much more attention i n Chile than i n Argentina and Brazil. Our story starts at the beginning of this century. During the decade and a half between 1900 and World War I, Latin America benefited from the export-oriented economic growth made possible by the booming markets of the North Atlantic industrial economies. Brazil lived off coffee and natural rubber exports, Argentina off beef and grain, and Chile off nitrates. In all three countries, therefore, the money economy was sensitive to trends i n the international economy, where exports earned the foreign exchange to buy badly needed imports. A n y major shocks to the world economy would be bound to produce rapid and dramatic effects i n the commercialized sectors. Although import-substituting industrialization had not gone far yet, factories existed i n such sectors as textiles, leather goods, beverages, food processing, and construction materials. The most dynamic service sectors were transportation, government bureaucracy, commerce, and finance. The consequences of this economic structure for labor were several. First, because exports were crucial to all three 38

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economies, workers i n the infrastructure supporting exports —especially railways and docks—stood at a vital point. A n y work stoppage posed an immediate threat to the country's trade viability and therefore its capacity to import. Second, the relatively primitive state of industrialization meant that most workers were employed i n very small firms, the overwhelming majority with less than twenty-five employees. Only a few industries, such as textiles, fit the modern image of huge factories with mass-production techniques. The unions i n question were usually craft unions, or a recent outgrowth thereof. The exceptions were the rail workers, miners, and dockers, who, not coincidentally, were among the more militant workers. For a thorough study of the cases of Argentina, Brazil, and Chile we need to start with an analysis of the state of labor relations systems i n each country at the outset of our period— approximately 1900. Were there formal contracts between employers and workers? If so, what kind of negotiating—if any—went into their creation? D i d worker organizations exist? Were they legally recognized as representing workers? If not, was there de facto recognition and de facto negotiating? If negotiating occurred, even sporadically and outside a formal legal structure, what issues did it cover—wages? working conditions? fringe benefits? A second important area is access to employment. How were workers recruited? D i d employers have complete control over hiring? Or did workers—through collective action— share that control? Could they, for example, exercise any monopsonistic control? If there were ongoing worker organizations, how were they structured and financed? What resources did they have to protect their members against reprisals from employer or government? At first glance it would seem that the market conditions were unfavorable for effective unionization, especially i n Brazil and Chile. Were these not labor surplus economies, where labor resistance could presumably be bypassed by simply hiring new workers from the large pool available? If so, then as long as surplus labor was readily available, no worker action could be expected to succeed, unless the employer was, 40

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for some other reason, especially vulnerable to short-term disruption, or unless the government intervened and put pressure on the employers i n a manner that the unfavorable market conditions prevented the workers from doing. We are therefore faced with a startling question at the outset of our inquiry: how was unionization possible at all i n Latin America before 1945—or even t o d a y , i n those economies where a labor surplus continues to exist? To ask that question is to suggest an obvious answer: perhaps there was n o effective unionization before 1945—or perhaps even today in some of these countries. Perhaps we are merely asking about changing patterns of urban worker protest—through unions or other channels—but not union behavior i n the sense i n which that term is used i n contemporary North America and Western Europe. That would appear to be the interpretation of scholars such as Adolf Sturmthal, who is frank i n dismissing the possibility of genuine bargaining by labor when a huge unemployed and underemployed labor pool hangs over the market. If, on the other hand, we encounter cases where worker organization seems to have produced significant material concessions, we would expect to find three possible explanations: (1) the labor surplus did not exist; (2) a labor surplus existed, but was neutralized by the creation of a segmented labor market due to barriers to entry resulting from employer manipulation, monopsonistic employee behavior, or some societally imposed structure; or (3) there was government intervention—of one kind or another. Possibility (3) is considerably easier to research than (1) or (2). We shall need to keep all three possibilities i n mind. The questions posed above are second nature to specialists i n industrial relations and labor economics. Yet they are not easy to answer for the history of the U.S. or Europe, let alone the Argentina, Brazil, and Chile of 1900. Obviously the answers w i l l vary greatly by industry and locale To paint a complete picture requires detailed, documented monographs on urban labor, industry by industry. For the most part, we lack industry studies, although we are now beginning to get well-researched studies of worker movements. As a result, for 41

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the essential background on the structure of labor relations i n 1900 we must rely on a frequently inadequate secondary literature. Readers should remember that this w i l l limit our ability to examine i n depth the interaction of worker protest and elite response, especially as it concerns changes i n the operational structure of labor relations. Readers should also remember that what follows is an exercise i n traditional labor history—concentrating on unions and employer and government response to union mobilization. Largely neglected w i l l be the nonunion efforts, especially those organized outside the workplace, such as the massive rent strike i n Buenos Aires in 1907. Neglected also are those many occasions of working-class action which were largely symbolic or fraternal, rather than politically or bargaining oriented. 43

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Labor Movements in Argentina, 1 9 0 0 - 1 9 3 0

Argentina is an interesting case because of the vigor of its early labor mobilization and the degree to which labor remained free of a state-imposed framework. Although there were some impressive strike efforts i n late-nineteenth-century Argentina, the significant organizational upsurge came after 1900. Between 1901 and 1910 the organized urban labor movement was dominated by leaders varyingly committed to the philosophical doctrines which bore the label of Anarchism. The government was worried enough by their strikes to push through passage of a Ley de Residencia i n 1902, facilitating the deportation of foreign-born organizers. The reactionary, xenophobic lawmakers, who thought labor protest could be little more than the work of subversive foreigners, had a point, since so many of the Anarchists were aliens. Notwithstanding this reaction from most government politicians, one legislator, Joaquin V. González, sought i n 1904 to contain and channel the labor protest through a general code for labor relations which he proposed to the Congress. González's initiative was met with rude opposition from both Conservatives and labor leaders. The former opposed i n principle any recognition of labor's rights to organize, while the latter, led by the Anarchists, rejected it because 45

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they suspected that any government system would be manipulated against them. The combination was fortunate from the long-term standpoint of labor, because it prevented the early creation of a legal framework which might well have become a straitjacket on labor. The accommodationists within the political elite were not discouraged, however, by the fate of the González bill. In 1907 the Congress created a Department of Labor, and invited the FORA (Federación Obrera Regional Argentina) and the U G T (Union General de Trabajo), leading labor union confederations, to participate i n the Tribunal designated to resolve labor conflicts. Both organizations "refused to support the 'corrupt bourgeois government' i n this effort." Once again, Argentine labor escaped incorporation into a government-controlled structure of labor relations. Meanwhile, the Anarchists continued their effective organizing, especially among immigrant workers i n Buenos Aires. A climax to their effort came i n 1910. The government had mounted a great public celebration of the centennial of the declaration of Argentine independence. The Anarchist leaders saw their opportunity as well; they were determined to raise labor's voice i n a mighty protest against what they saw as the farce of Argentine progress. It was not, however, a work-related action; it was a symbolic challenge. They could not have chosen a better issue on which to rouse the ire of both the oligarchy and the middle-class porteños (residents of Buenos Aires). Anarchist-led attempts at public manifestations were met with police charges. It was class warfare in a startling guise. The result was a total victory for the repressive forces. In the aftermath a new law was passed—the Ley de Defensa Social—giving the government virtual carte blanche to arrest and try labor organizers. The hunt was on for any and all leaders of the urban protest movement. The Anarchists, who still held the initiative among the leadership of the urban unions, became the prime targets. The following years were dark for the labor movement. Anarchist leaders were persecuted, harassed, imprisoned, and deported. It was the death knell of the Anarchist movement, although not all contemporaries could yet perceive it. 47

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A m i d this repression, 1912 brought a harbinger of political change. That year the Congress enacted the Sáenz Pena Law, which significantly broadened the franchise. For the first time the vote was opened to the articulate and frustrated middle-sector citizens whose supreme political expression was the Radical Party. This reform enabled the well-organized Radical Party to win the presidential election of 1916 and triumphantly install its leader, Hipólito Yrigoyen, i n office. In contrast with preceding governments, the Radical regime did not routinely resort to the use of police to break up strikes. Their attitude was a mixture of genuine concern for the material fate of the working classes and an interest i n finding votes i n their quest to displace the Conservatives as Argentina's governing party. In some negotiating conflicts, the Yrigoyen government proved sympathetic to labor. From the labor standpoint it was an incremental improvement, dependent on continued government sympathy case by case. Significantly, the Radicals made no attempt to create a new legal framework for labor relations. Radical forbearance toward labor was stretched to the breaking point, however, during the monumental labor protest of 1918-1919. It was a moment when workers throughout the Western world—from Berlin to Turin, from Chicago to Lima, from São Paulo to Buenos Aires, rose i n general strikes against their employers and the state. It was a confluence of specific grievances and generalized hostility. It was also one of those moments when spontaneous protest caught even the militant organizers by surprise. Most of the strikers and demonstrators belonged to no union, suggesting a growing class consciousness. In Argentina, as elsewhere i n Latin America, worker discontent was fueled by the sharp drop i n real wage rates resulting from the inflation of World War I. Prices, especially of food, had risen quickly (because of European demand), while wages had lagged. The resulting squeeze was deeply felt by the urban workers i n Buenos Aires, as elsewhere i n the major cities of Latin America. A series of individual union strikes i n Buenos Aires i n late 1918 and early 1919 stimulated other union leaders—mostly Syndicalist—to opt for a general strike—the long-cherished Syndicalist in48

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strument for bringing down the bourgeois state. The result was the Semana Trágica, i n which several hundred strikers were cut down i n the streets by police. The Radical government was forced into the role of a bourgeois repressive regime. Part of the pressure i n that direction came from a newly formed ultra-rightist civilian paramilitary movement, the Liga Patriótica Argentina, fed by middle- and upper-class fear and fury toward the popular challenge. The Liga took to the streets to attack the workers, thereby promoting naked class warfare. The contradiction i n the middle-class "opening" to the working class became evident. Once again the labor leadership was sharply repressed. The Syndicalists suffered heavily, as did the last remnants of the Anarchist leadership. After 1919 the Argentine labor movement was to come under new leadership. The Anarchists, gravely weakened before 1919, faded definitively. The Syndicalists, with a better chance for survival, now faced competition from those who were to promote the cause of the Second International. Competition came also from the Socialists, a political current virtually absent elsewhere in Latin America. Their appearance i n Argentina at this point was proof that Argentina was the most advanced nation i n Latin America, at least if one judged by the timing of the appearance of Socialist parties i n the chronology of European political development. The Socialists claimed to offer a means for workers to improve their material conditions by direct leverage on the established political system. By their vote, argued the Socialists, urban workers (little attention was paid to rural workers) could force the ruling elites to make concessions to them. But the Socialists had made only sporadic and ineffective efforts to gain influence i n the unions, where the Syndicalists and Communists shared control. Labor organization i n the early 1920s was influenced by a further factor: the material conditions for urban workers improved dramatically after the Semana Trágica. Real wage rates, as best we can determine, increased steadily during the decade—not, however, because of union pressure. On the contrary, rising wages may have undermined unionization. The remainder of the 1920s saw Argentine labor continue i n a 49

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pluralistic world of competition among labor organizers, with no definitive legal framework governing labor relations. In short, Argentine labor arrived at 1930 free from a governmentimposed labor code which might have imprisoned it within a web of legal and political restrictions.

Urban

Labor

Movements in Brazil 1 9 0 0 - 1 9 3 0

Brazil, although less advanced economically before 1930 than Argentina, also produced an urban labor movement that alarmed the elite, so fond of describing Brazilian society as immune to the class conflict that plagued other countries. As i n Argentina, there was organized activity before 1900 but the workers' associations that had appeared were vulnerable and impermanent. After 1902, organization increased, centering in the skilled trades, construction, and transport sectors. This phase climaxed i n the "First Labor Conference" of 1906, where the Anarcho-Syndicalists established a dominance they were to retain until 1920. Union growth continued steadily until 1908, although the scale of labor organization was modest. There had been little success, for example, i n textiles, by far the largest industry. In 1908 a four-year decline set in, apparently due in part to the economic downturn occasioned by a slump i n the world economy. As i n Argentina, the Anarchist leadership included many aliens. The Brazilian political elite seized on this fact, resorting to deportation as a major weapon. In 1907 a new deportation law was passed, facilitating repression. Although there had been a brief resurgence of labor organization i n 1 9 1 2 1913, with the Second Labor Congress held i n 1913, a severe recession took hold of the Brazilian economy i n the latter year, and 1913 also saw a tightening of the deportation regulations. U p to 1917, the year the Bolshevik revolution cast its shadow over Europe, the Brazilian urban labor movement had offered little threat to the established order. The war years presented urban workers with a grave problem: rapidly rising prices, especially of food, which severely reduced their real wages. It gave them a material incentive for listening to the Anarcho-Syndicalist leaders, who called for 51

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strikes i n Rio and São Paulo. The years 1917-1920 brought a surge of strikes such as Brazil had never known. They began in São Paulo i n mid-1917. Worker dissatisfaction spread through the textile industry and burst out i n July, when textile workers demanded wage increases. The strike wave then spread to the breweries. Much of the protest was spontaneous. The leadership sought to expand the protest into a more general "political" strike, perhaps because the degree of worker militancy had caught them partly by surprise and they were scrambling to catch up The strike spread to Rio, where the employers proved less conciliatory. In São Paulo, however, the workers won significant concessions from the employers, who negotiated via a commission of journalists. (Unfortunately, the labor leadership had no way of insuring compliance with the agreements, which many employers later chose to ignore.) By the end of 1918 the Anarchist leadership i n Rio had become emboldened by the prospect of worker militancy. They secretly planned a huge protest, which they hoped would lead to an insurrection that would topple the established political order. It was a moment i n which the Utopian political vision of the Anarchists overcame their experience with workplace-centered strike tactics. The plot was discovered, the leaders arrested, and the protest aborted The following year, 1919, brought a new wave of strike activity. In May, workers at the São Paulo factory of Francisco Matarazzo launched a strike, touching off a chain reaction of strikes across the city. What began as an "economic" strike movement was again transformed, by October, into an attempt at a general strike. Once more the Anarcho-Syndicalist leadership opted for what they planned to be a serious blow to the state. They sought to mobilize worker discontent over specific grievances—low wages, their late payment, poor working conditions, child labor, inadequate weekend and holiday provisions—into a challenge to the entire socioeconomic system. The results were disastrous. In the two years after the 1917 strike wave, both state and federal governments had prepared themselves for swifter and more effective repression. The workers were pathetically underprepared for direct

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confrontation. "Politicization" of the strike movement, given the relative power positions i n 1919, was bound to preclude success on the "economic" issues over which the strikes had begun i n May. In March 1920 the textile workers of both Rio and São Paulo attempted to mount general strikes. They received the full measure of repression the government had been readying. The strikes were broken and the systematic persecution of labor leaders began. The last gasp came i n early 1921, when the maritime workers and the Anarcho-Syndicalist leaders of Rio called for another general strike. It was a dismal failure. The same year the Congress tightened the deportation law again, easing the way for summary removal of foreign-born labor organizers. The Anarchist leadership never recovered. They had succeeded i n channeling worker discontent into a dramatic confrontation with employers, then with the State, embodied by the police and the military. The response they elicited was first non-recognition, then conciliation, and then repression. Yet they had shown that urban workers could be organized into collective action far more threatening than most Brazilian employers or politicians would have dreamed possible before World War I. The decade of the 1920s found organized labor i n Brazil weak and on the defensive. The Anarcho-Syndicalist leadership never recovered from the repression provoked by the 1917-1920 strike effort. Union membership plummeted. Strikes were infrequent and almost invariably costly failures. Unlike Argentina, which enjoyed steady economic prosperity, Brazil suffered a continuing industrial crisis during the 1920s. Data indicate that a large pool of labor, swollen by foreign immigrants and in-migrants from the rural sector, hung over the market, creating an unfavorable economic context. The political climate could hardly have been worse. The repression unleashed i n 1919-1920 continued through the decade. In part, labor organizers were caught i n the cross fire of an intra-elite struggle. During its last decade the "Old Republic" (1889-1930) was wracked by political revolt. Prominent among the rebels were younger military officers (the Tenentes), who took up arms i n 1922 (Rio), 1924 (São Paulo and Rio Grande do Sul), and 1924-1927 (the rebel Coluna 53

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Prestes [Prestes Column]). The government countered the rebel challenge by continuous resort to the "state of siege" provision i n the Constitution. Although aimed primarily at the opposition from within the elite, use of these arbitrary powers was readily extended to labor organizers as well. During these same years a series of ad hoc decrees and laws created a partial system of labor relations, restricted to a few sectors (such as railway workers and port workers), along with scattered social welfare laws (compensation for accidents, child labor regulations). Especially important to note is the fact that Brazil did not have a middle-sector political movement that found it necessary to seek worker support i n a struggle for power with the incumbent political oligarchy. The Tenentes lacked any clearly articulated position on the role of the working class, as became evident with the advent of the Revolution of 1930. The urban middle sectors, strongest i n Rio and São Paulo, remained susceptible to the scare tactics of employers and reactionary politicians. There was no significant group within the elite seeking to incorporate labor into the established structure. Instead, the challenge mounted by the AnarchoSyndicalist-led workers i n 1917-1920 had been met i n two ways: (1) repression, and (2) provision of minimal working conditions and social welfare laws (compensation for accidents, etc.) for a few critical economic sectors, such as railway and port workers. Like Argentina, Brazil reached 1930 without any systematic labor-relations system codified i n law. Meanwhile, during the 1920s the Communists had steadily replaced the Anarcho-Syndicalists i n union leadership. In fact, much of the slowly growing membership of the Brazilian Communist Party (founded in 1922) came from the waning ranks of the Anarchists. Whatever their virtues, the Communists lacked commitment to, and effectiveness at, grass-roots union organizing. Throughout the 1920s the Communists and Anarchists battled bitterly—in no other Latin American Communist Party was there such a strong influx of ex-Anarchists, and nowhere else were there such recriminations over alleged 54

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backsliding by these converts. As a result, too few energies were left for the hard work of worker recruitment and organization.

Urban

Labor

Movements i n Chile, 1 9 0 0 - 1 9 3 0

In Chile, as i n Argentina and Brazil, viable labor unions did not appear on the scene before the turn of the century, although there had been some significant strikes i n the 1890s. The first phase of effective strike activity came i n 1905 - 1 9 0 8 , although the "resistance societies" (mutual assistance groups) had launched some successful strike actions earlier i n the decade. Such groups were strongest among skilled workers. In June 1907 they mounted a large-scale general strike i n Santiago and won a number of concessions. December of that year, however, brought violence. In the northern port of Iquique, striking nitrate workers and their families confronted army troops and fell by the hundreds i n what bore all the marks of a massacre. A wave of repression struck the urban workingclass movement. Workers were also hit hard by an economic recession. Only i n 1909 could labor organizers begin seriously rebuilding their movement. For the next five years there was steady progress, with the Anarcho-Syndicalists providing most of the leadership. A series of successful strikes followed, including a general strike i n October 1913 i n the port city of Valparaiso, where union structure was more centralized than in Santiago. But 1914 began another very difficult period for workers, who were hit by rising prices, which rapidly eroded the purchasing power of workers' take-home pay. Santiago's labor supply increased i n 1914 (unemployed nitrate workers from the north resettled i n Santiago), further weakening workers' bargaining power. The only significant strike action was by rail workers i n 1916, but they were a case apart, since they enjoyed an especially favorable bargaining position. Labor organization began to revive i n 1917. The economy was i n an upswing, strengthening labor's hand. Inflation was again cutting into real wages, making workers receptive to the organizers' appeals. For the next three years unionization 57

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grew steadily, despite the fact that Chilean law did not recognize labor unions, thus placing them i n an extralegal limbo. It was an era of pragmatic leadership, with emphasis on the fundamentals of organization-building; ideological differences were downplayed. May Day rallies i n 1917 and 1918, for example, were huge successes, symbolizing the ability of Anarcho-Syndicalists, Anarcho-Communists, Socialists, and reformists to work together effectively. This growth of labor strength did not sit well with the incumbent political oligarchy, nor with the middle sectors. As i n Argentina and Brazil, the elite thought worker discontent must have been caused by foreign agitators. In 1918 the Congress passed a Ley de Residencia, much like the Argentine and Brazilian laws. It was designed to rid the country of aliens who were active labor organizers. But the politicians had not done their homework. Chile had virtually no such aliens. Much to the disappointment of the elite, the deportation strategy would not work i n Chile. This curious fact is worth further consideration. As i n Argentina and Brazil during the years before 1920, the Anarchists and Anarcho-Syndicalists predominated, although the Socialists had surprising power. Unlike those cases, however, the Anarcho-Syndicalists i n Chile were overwhelmingly home-grown. Whatever the situation i n Argentina and Brazil, Anarcho-Syndicalism i n Chile was not a movement aimed at immigrant workers and led by foreign-born organizers. European immigration had been insignificant i n Chile, except for Germans i n the south, who were hardly accessible to urbanbased organizers. Anarchist and Syndicalist ideas reached Chile via occasional visitors from Europe or North America, but more frequently through publications and contacts i n Argentina. As a result, the Chilean labor organizers were less vulnerable to the attacks of reactionary nationalists who attributed labor unrest to foreign "subversives." That did not, however, stop such attacks from being made; they were made, continuously. But it does warn us not to rely too heavily on the nationality of the workers as an explanation for the strength of Anarchist and Syndicalist doctrines and leadership in Latin America.

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The year 1919 was the high point of this period of successful labor mobilization. In January and February the union leaders staged huge rallies i n Santiago to protest the high prices brought by wartime inflation. In August there was another mammoth demonstration, with 100,000 participants marching past the presidential palace. Here was a case of more broadly based working-class protest, which included many demonstrators who were not union members. It seemed to indicate a significant state of class consciousness. The resulting confidence of labor leaders, both Anarcho-Syndicalist and IWW, led them to attempt a general strike i n Santiago i n aid of brewery workers, whose current strike was foundering. The general strike was called for September; it was unsuccessful i n pressuring the brewery owners, whose workers returned in defeat. This attempt at class solidarity had failed i n its immediate purpose, and the effect on worker morale was negative. By early 1920, strikes were becoming less frequent. Surprisingly enough, government reaction to strikers had been relatively moderate since the labor resurgence began i n 1917. In December of that year an executive edict (the Yáñez Decree) set up a mediating role for government i n stalemated labor conflicts. Although rejected i n principle by Anarchist and Syndicalist leaders, it was heavily used, often to labor's benefit, i n 1918 and 1919. That pattern continued for the first half of 1920, in part because the government did not wish to poison the atmosphere for an important upcoming presidential election, scheduled for June. Chile, like Argentina, had liberalized the franchisė enough to open the door to significant middle­sector political participation, a process far less advanced i n Brazil. The num­ ber of enfranchised working­class citizens, although still small, had begun to attract the attention of Chilean bourgeois politicians soon after the turn of the century, especially i n Santiago. Their votes could be significant, especially i n cases where the voting was divided among many parties, as was the case i n Chile. The political leader who saw this most clearly was Arturo Alessandri, running for President i n 1920. He made a passionate appeal to urban voters, including work­ ers, whom he promised to favor both by negotiating labor

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conflicts and by creating a modem system of social welfare. Alessandri represented an "enlightened" middle-sector view —accepting the inevitability of working-class participation in the society and the economy, while also hoping to channel it into controllable lines of action. The model he proposed was a modified corporatist structure, which would legitimize unions, while also locating them within an intricate legal framework that gave final control to the government. Alessandri narrowly won the election. With this democratic exercise now over, the incumbent government of President Juan Luis Sanfuentes felt free to respond to the labor challenge. In July, workers felt the onslaught of the Ligas Patrióticas, the paramilitary street activists recruited from rightwing middle- and upper-class families. Systematic government repression now began. Arrest and imprisonment faced virtually all Anarcho-Syndicalist and other leaders who did not flee into exile or find hiding inside the country. The leaderless workers were further demoralized by a wave of lockouts, i n which employers took back many of the concessions made in the years from 1917 to 1920. Yet there was hope that the government attitude would change when Alessandri assumed office. So it did. For the first half of 1921 the Alessandri government intervened (under authority of the Yáñez Decree) in a number of strikes, favoring workers in their mediation. But labor conflict turned violent. Alessandri found himself attacked from all sides—from the right for having shown labor too much sympathy and from the left for not doing enough to restrain the aggressive employer tactics. In July 1921, Alessandri intervened in a bitter tram strike i n Santiago, helping the company to strike-break. From August to October there was a wave of successful lockouts. By the end of 1921, the government had reverted to a policy of systematic repression. A string of lockouts, accompanied by the creation of company unions, continued through 1922 and 1923. In early 1922 the coal miners struck. A n attempted general strike failed to help them. The employers and the government, now very confident, had the upper hand. It was also the time of a great increase in the ideological orientation of the labor organizations. 58

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Battles between Anarcho-Syndicalists and Communists became open and bitter. Although the best-organized single labor group, the F O C h (Federation Obrera de Chile) came under complete Communist leadership, the Anarcho-Syndicalists continued to control most of the unions i n Santiago and Valparaiso. While organized labor was struggling against adverse economic and political conditions, President Alessandri pressed for adoption of his proposed labor code and social welfare package, which had been introduced i n Congress i n 1921. The Conservatives had presented their own proposal i n 1919. They were now determined to block the Liberal initiative, and they had the strength i n Congress to do so. Many Conservatives undoubtedly preferred the status quo—in which unions had no legal status and were therefore exposed to continuous assaults from both employers and government. Furthermore, the Conservatives feared that the Liberals might generate a new voter following among urban workers. The stand-off between the Liberal President and the Conservative Congress continued until 1924. In that year the military broke the impasse, as a military junta took partial control of the government i n early September, soon forcing Alessandri out of the presidency. Only three days after the rebellious military had issued a manifesto listing legislative demands, the Congress dutifully approved every one. Included was a package of measures aimed at labor, the most important being an elaborate labor code. The new code incorporated elements of competing proposals previously put forward by the Liberals and the Conservatives. O n one point, however, they differed little: both subjected unions to very close supervision by the government. Neither was designed to encourage competitive unionization in a pluralistic framework. There was to be exclusive representation granted to the union recognized by the government. Labor disputes were to be resolved by government tribunal and commission. The package of measures also included additions to the very advanced (for the era) programs of medical care, vacations, and pensions. In short, Chile followed the Bismarckian model of the 1880s in establishing an elaborate sys59

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tem of social welfare benefits. As i n the German Empire, this social advance was n o t the product of a political process i n which the workers could play a direct role. It was a preemptive move by the government, under military pressure, to head off further independent mobilization by workers' organizations. This apparently progressive step resulted directly from the arbitrary action of a government cadre that had much to fear from worker mobilization—the military officer corps. The imposition of the labor code coincided with a resurgence of labor conflict. A n upturn in the economy had tightened the labor supply, and rising prices gave workers reason to demand wage raises. Leadership was active across the ideological spectrum: Anarcho-Syndicalist (still the strongest), Communist, and reformist (those ready to accommodate the labor movement to government-channeled concessions and controls). Meanwhile, conflict between the military and Alessandri had led the President to take a leave abroad, from which he was recalled after a second military coup in January 1925. At this point, ironically, the newly predominant military felt that they needed both Alessandri and urban labor support, as they saw the precariousness of their legitimacy. This new military government intervened frequently in strikes, usually to the benefit of the workers. It seemed that organized labor might be on the verge of gaining power; some even thought the revolution was at hand. Fear spread among the elite, who were acutely aware that they had lost control. The revolution was not at hand. Alessandri returned from his leave i n March 1925 and soon delivered another lesson on the vulnerability of organized labor. The government position turned more repressive in a clash with nitrate workers i n June 1925. For the next two years labor found itself battling not only government hostility but also economic recession, with its inevitable labor surplus. In January 1927 labor leadership ill-advisedly attempted a general strike. Labor's divisions became all too obvious; the strike failed. In February, Colonel Carlos Ibáñez del Campo won de facto control of the government and was shortly thereafter confirmed i n the presidency by a popular election; he then embarked on a virtual dictator-

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ship. In the wake of his coup, labor leaders became a prime target. Massive arrests and imprisonments shattered the union movement. The government's dual response to the urban challenge was now complete. The all-encompassing labor code of 1924 was i n place, and the long arm of military and police repression had silenced the independent voices among the workers.

The Post-Anarchist Legacy What happened in these three countries after the largely A n archist-led challenge had been defeated? In Chile, Colonel Ibáñez presided over a dictatorial regime (1927-1931) that resorted to repression of independent labor leaders and attempted to create a cadre of new pro-government leaders. With the end of the Ibáñez regime i n 1931, that effort failed, and Chile began its long (by Latin American standards) experiment i n union democracy. Union elections were fiercely contested, but reasonably honest. Here the functioning of the corporatistdesigned structure helped i n the emergence of union leaders with genuine followings, as the government-appointed inspectors, empowered to certify election results, proved relatively neutral. The Communists, who had been led by the redoubtable figure of Luis Emilio Recabarren until his suicide in late 1924, found competition for worker leadership from a new revolutionary party which had appeared—the Socialist Party, whose founders included many former Anarchist leaders. In 1938 a Popular Front government, including Communists, Socialists, and Radicals, was able to reach power. Thus the military (and cooperating elites) had succeeded in containing the potential for significant class confrontation within the labor relations system, but had failed to prevent militant left-wing parties from capturing the voting loyalty of a large segment of organized urban workers. Furthermore, the links between unions and left-wing political parties became very close. As a result of this legitimation of democratic mobilization on the left, the "social question" was to become increasingly the heart of political conflict. In the 1960s, concern over it led to Frei's ambitious attempt at reformism, and 60

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then to Allende's attempt at social revolution within the pluralistic political system. The price paid for the ultimate failure of both attempts was heavy. It returned Chile to the confrontation of soldier and worker that the preemptive measures of 1924-1927 were to have headed off. In Argentina, Radical rule ended i n 1930, when a military coup deposed the aged Yrigoyen and brought first General José Felix Uriburu and then General Juan B. Justo to power. In fact, the Conservative Party ruled from behind the scenes, and a subsequent resurgence of Radical influence did not change the unsympathetic attitude toward labor which had typified all the governments since the early 1920s. Argentina thus reached the eve of World War II without a systematic labor code or comprehensive social welfare legislation. Labor unions continued to exist and had maintained organizational strength since the dark days of the mid-1920s. The workers had not, however, found a political voice comparable to that of labor i n Chile. The Communist Party i n Argentina had remained small, under steady government harassment. There was a Socialist Party, cast more on the lines of a European Social Democratic party than on the mold of the revolutionary Socialist Party in Chile. In Argentina it had succeeded in building a working-class following in Buenos Aires, although its success elsewhere i n the country was extremely limited. In sum, organized urban workers i n Argentina had neither a legitimized labor relations system nor a militant political champion. A l l that was to change i n 1943. In 1943 Colonel Juan Perón started his meteoric rise to power, beginning in the National Labor Department, of which he was named the Director. Perón soon moved into the political vacuum surrounding labor. His governments after 1945 were to provide both a fully articulated labor system officially sanctioned by the government and a comprehensive program of social welfare benefits. Perón was not, however, acting alone. He represented a major current of opinion among Army officers, who were concerned over the growth of organized urban labor. They feared the political—and perhaps even military— potential of these masses. They scorned the civilian politicians for having merely postponed the inevitable 62

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acknowledgment of this rising social force. The specter of possible radicalization, even Bolshevism, seemed a real threat. Because Perón was a thoroughly unoriginal thinker, he could be a superbly effective public personality representing a South American adaptation of some elements of European, especially Italian, Fascism. Earlier, Perón had served as a military attaché in Rome; he was a known admirer of Mussolini. Although the regime which lasted from the coup of 1943 until the coup of 1955 went through several stages with an ever greater cult of personality, we should not lose sight of the fact that the motivation of a large part of the G O U (Grupo de Oficiales Unidos)—the group of officers which was the most important force behind the 1943 coup—closely resembled that of the Chilean junta of 1924-1927. Both wanted to preempt labor mobilization by creating a controllable labor relations system and to undercut independent working-class political organization by the imposition of social welfare benefits established by edict. In essence, the Argentine officers wanted to close off the avenues of independent professional and political action of the urban workers. The Argentine officers came to their reactionary task late, but with strong resolve. As history turned out, this military direction of worker organization resulted i n a colossal cult of personality that was to overshadow Argentine politics for decades to follow. It is also important to acknowledge that Peronism brought enormous benefits—both material and psychological—to the urban working class. The true character of this extraordinary era was obscured by the stubborn unwillingness of many on the left to recognize that Perón was n o t simply a South American Fascist. Significantly, it was a military regime, led by General Alejandro Lanusse, that was finally driven, i n 1973, to allow Perón back to govern Argentina. Yet the ghost failed to be exorcised. Nor did Perón's death extinguish his charisma. Seen i n historical perspective, however, what remains is a military initiative to save Argentina from the revolutionary left. Juan Perón is dead, Evita Perón is dead, and Isabelita Perón languishes under lengthening house arrest. A l l that remains is the familiar confrontation of soldier versus worker. 64

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As i n Chile, labor unions are intervened by military officers. For the moment, elections, as well as strikes, belong to the past. In Brazil, as in Argentina, 1930 saw the military dislodge the incumbent civilian regime. One of the early acts of Getúlio Vargas, as Provisional President, was to create a separate Ministry of Labor, splitting it off from the Ministry of Commerce and Industry. Yet Brazilian labor, like Argentine labor, had reached the watershed of 1930 without any systematic labor relations system having been imposed. Equally important, the Vargas era began with the urban movement divided and weak. The legally defined role of labor was to change greatly during the rule of Vargas. Further definition of labor's status was extensively discussed by the Provisional Government (19301934), and some measures were enacted in that period. At the time of the Constituent Assembly of 1933-1934, however, the present form of the labor relations framework still lay i n the future. The leaders of the Assembly drew up a relatively flexible legal structure for unions, embodied i n the Constitution of 1934, which facilitated an extraordinary upsurge in political activity in 1934-1935. Suddenly the left came to life, mobilized by the A N L (Aliança Nacional Libertadora), a popular front movement. Unfortunately for those labor leaders who favored the peaceful road, the Brazilian Communist Party was engaged i n a two-pronged strategy: one was the legal effort of the A N L ; the other was a conspiracy to carry out a coup within the Army. The latter was easily crushed i n November 1935. In the aftermath all leaders on the militant left were hunted to the ground. A l l leadership on the left had been discredited by a conspiracy that played into the hands of those planning their own coup: the authoritarian coup by Vargas with military sponsorship in November 1937. Here the Brazilian case converged with the Chilean and Argentine ones. It was during the Estado Novo (1937-1945) that the first systematic labor code was adopted. Once again, it was not the product of open political bargaining i n which independent organized labor had an input; it was imposed by the executive. The form of the Brazilian system (codified as the Conso66

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lidacão das Leis do Trabalho i n 1943) was largely corporatist, similar in many details to the Chilean code. The principle of exclusive union representation was adopted, with total control over recognition of the legal union vested i n the Ministry of Labor. The latter was also given power to supervise the finances and election of officers of the unions. A n elaborate system of labor courts was created to handle grievances, and the right to strike was effectively denied. Although the Brazilian labor code may have resembled Chile's in some formal aspects—for example, only one union was permitted at plant level and government bureaucrats held the power to grant recognition—the application of the two codes was very different. In Chile, from the end of the Ibáñez dictatorship i n 1931 until the beginning of the Augusto Pinochet dictatorship i n 1973, genuine competition for union leadership prevailed, with members of revolutionary parties able to hold office and to promote close links with their parties. In Brazil, however, governments wielded a much heavier hand i n the operation of the unions. In the years between the end of the Estado Novo in 1945 and the military coup of 1964, the Communist Party was legal for only two years (1945-1947). Its outlawing i n 1947 coincided with a purge—via the corporatist controls provided by the labor code of 1943—of leftwing union leaders. The subsequent manipulation of union machinery by the Ministry of Labor guaranteed the continued absence of any leadership found objectionable by the government. When Getúlio Vargas returned to the presidency i n 1951, intervention by the Ministry of Labor eased, as the loyalty oath [ a t e s t a d o de ideología) for union officers was suspended. There followed an upsurge of spontaneous worker mobilization that contributed to a massive strike i n São Paulo i n 1953. The mobilization occurred i n unofficial worker commissions, formed outside the government-controlled union structure. The workers won their immediate goal—a significant wage increase—but their newly formed commissions were soon absorbed into the official union machinery. The attempt to create a "parallel" union structure, with genuinely democratic choice of leadership, failed. Instead, the Ministry of Labor 67

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maintained its control until the early 1960s, when a new challenge was mounted, but it had not gone far when the coup of 1964 brought a massive crackdown on the left. Thus the corporatist machinery set up during the Estado Novo continued to serve its creators' purposes. It is important to understand that those architects of the corporatist system got their opportunity i n 1943 only because the military had intervened in Brazilian politics. Although the Estado Novo was not a straightforward military junta, such as the Chilean regime of 1924-1927 or the Argentine government of 1943-1946, Vargas and his civilian advisors could never have held power without strong support—including recourse to arbitrary police and military action—from the Army. Officer support had been made all the more certain by the Communist uprising of November 1935. That would-be p u t s c h gave ample ammunition to the antidemocratic leaders among the officers. Some, such as Generals Pedro Góes Monteiro and Eurico Dutra, were already known as sympathizers of the Axis regimes i n Germany and Italy. Fascist ideas about controlling labor were therefore widespread in officer circles i n Brazil, as they were among the G O U officers in Argentina. Brazil differed from Argentina and Chile in an important way, however. In Chile, revolutionary political parties on the left had appeared—the Communists and the Socialists—and had been allowed to grow. Chile had a labor relations system highly subject to manipulation by the government, but at the same time a political outlet for worker mobilization that was — b y Latin American standards—remarkably free. This creation of parallel outlets came later i n Argentina. The labor relations structure emerging after 1943 was under the thumb of the executive, subsequently indistinguishable from the person of Perón. The political outlet for worker energy also soon became Perón's (and Evita's until her death i n 1952) personal creature. These political movements i n Argentina and Chile, despite their differences, had one feature i n common. Both survived the coups that removed the leaders they had supported. In Argentina as well as Chile, it was not enough for the military simply to remove a head of state they considered drifting 68

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into dangerous waters. In both cases military juntas—the Chilean i n 1973 and the Argentine i n 1955, 1966, and 1 9 7 6 — have faced a much larger task. They have had to struggle against well-established and institutionalized political movements based on urban worker support. In other words, the military's strategy of creating a highly controllable labor relations system proved inadequate for containing the political threat of the working class. Today, both military governments have regular recourse to extreme repression. Corporatist labor relations systems were not enough. Brazil, by contrast, had never seen the establishment of major working-class political movements. The Communist Party (PCB), which enjoyed a brief surge i n 1946 when it gained 10 percent of the presidential vote, was outlawed the following year. Despite the law, the PCB was able to run candidates under other party labels, but its success i n the years between 1947 and 1964 was negligible. A Socialist party of significance had never developed i n Brazil, despite sporadic efforts by intellectuals i n 1945-1946 and later. The closest approximation was the Partido Trabalhista Brasileiro (PTB), which Vargas founded i n 1945 as an electoral vehicle to combine the growing urban working-class vote with certain traditional political machines (such as the one i n his state of Rio Grande do Sul). Although by the early 1960s it was chosen by most militant leftist politicians as the best prospect within the established party spectrum, it remained very mixed, with a mildly reformist position characterizing the median opinion of its office holders. Thus the Brazilian military, when they seized power i n 1964 and later deepened their hold by the further authoritarian turn i n 1968, did not face a political problem of the same dimension as their Argentine counterparts had faced since 1955, and the Chilean officers were to face after 1973. Brazil had never developed the highly classoriented politics of Peronist Argentina and post-1945 Chile. The Brazilian military could afford to rely on the corporatist labor relations system that their predecessor officers had made possible during the Estado Novo, since the extra-union political institutions attempting to represent urban workers i n any militant manner were so insignificant. 69

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How can we account for the similarities and differences in the three countries? How do we explain the varying fate of working-class organizers? the rise and fall of the Anarchists, the Anarcho-Syndicalists, and the Syndicalists? the varying fate of the Communists, the Socialists—a label with very different meanings i n Argentina and Chile—the Trotskyists, and the reformists? the varying strength and resiliency of individual unions? the varying forms of labor and social welfare law? the variations i n interpretation and application of those laws? What are the most likely explanatory factors? These questions are enough to occupy scholars for years. Satisfactory answers can come only from detailed knowledge of differing periods i n each country. Nonetheless, it is important to think through the range of probable factors at work. A start toward comparison based on one indicator has been made by the recent research on labor law. Howard Wiarda, author of a number of works on corporatist systems i n Iberia and Latin America, has given an overview of the principal legal codes governing labor in each Latin American country (and Spain and Portugal). He finds a common corporatist orientation, although with more local variations than he had expected. Ruth and David Collier have added an important further step to that analysis by examining the mix of "inducements" and "constraints" i n the major labor laws i n each country. They are thereby able to show—at least i n l a w — how the dominant elites sought to proportion the carrot and the stick i n dealing with labor. Although very valuable i n guiding further research, these studies suffer from two serious limitations. First, both concentrate on those laws which explicitly focus on labor relations. This necessarily omits other laws which, while not mentioning labor per se, may have been equally important. A n example would be the subversion or alien deportation laws. For obvious reasons they are an important part of the "constraints" on labor. Second, neither study gives attention to how the laws were applied. That, of course, is a huge task which these authors could hardly be expected to tackle and which w i l l require monographic research on each case. What follows is a listing and brief discussion of some of 70

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the historical factors that may prove most worthy of investigation as research i n Latin American labor history continues. There is no pretense at a systematic, comparative evaluation of these factors, even for the three countries covered i n this essay. It is, rather, an exploratory discussion intended to draw together some of the themes which have emerged earlier.

Significant

Historical

Factors

(i) Foreign influences: Just as we should not overestimate factors from abroad, as may have happened i n studies of Argentine Anarchism, so they should not be underrated. Latin America produced few original thinkers i n the field of class analysis, labor relations, industrial organizations, or social welfare. Latin Americans frankly and openly shopped for ideas abroad, especially i n Europe. This was true not only of the elites, as when the Chileans Moisés Poblete Troncoso and Malaquias Concha Ortiz searched French, German, and British experience for useful precedents i n labor and social welfare law, but also of the working-class organizers, as when Argentines and Brazilians eagerly sought the latest ideas of a visiting Elisée Réclus or a traveling Errico Malatesta. This dependence on foreign ideas and ideologies was not unique to the field of labor. It was part of Latin America's asymmetrical relationship with European and North American (more the former than the latter before 1914) culture. Indeed, irritation over and protest against this dependence intermittently clouded discussions of labor relations i n all three countries discussed here. Nationalist critics charged both labor leaders and social welfare theorists with importing alien ideas, antithetical to the "true" traditions of Argentina, or Brazil, or Chile. As we have seen i n the case of Chile, it was not necessary to have a phalanx of European immigrants for Anarchist and Syndicalist ideas to take root and flourish. Ideas and doctrines had a life of their own. Yet the nature of the ideas that prevailed could i n part be explained by the pattern of cultural affinities between Latin America and Europe. Spain and Italy, the two primary suppliers of immigrants to Latin

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America, were strongholds of Anarchism. And Latin America's extreme Francophilic orientation i n culture made French Syndicalism more important than the Democratic Socialism of Germany and Britain, two countries of lesser cultural influence. The Versailles Treaty negotiations further intensified foreign influences on labor questions i n Latin America. Part of the new post-World War I multilateral structure was a muchpublicized International Labor Office, precursor of the International Labor Organization. Its creation gave Latin American countries such as Brazil, whose elite sought recognition for their country among the advanced nations of the world, the occasion to formulate labor codes and social welfare laws on "modern" lines. It was an institutionalization of the cultural dependence that had been more informal before 1914. For Latin American countries facing the "social question" these intellectual ties overseas were at least as important as the more obvious links of economic dependence via markets, investment, and loans.

(2) Ideologies

of working-class

mobilization:

To what

extent did ideologies—Anarchism, Syndicalism, Communism, reformism—gain adherents because their messages fit the circumstances and world outlook of the leaders and/or workers? To what extent did those ideologies, i n turn, influence the shape of subsequent labor relations? To take an obvious example, why did Anarchism and Syndicalism fade so quickly, after having dominated the urban labor scene until the early 1920s? Was it because, as critics later charged, their ideology grew increasingly anachronistic, given the character of ongoing industrialization? Was it because their organizational structure made them especially vulnerable to government repression (as compared to the clandestine parallel structure the Communists later mounted)? Was it because their antipolitical emphasis—often seen by workers as Utopian—roused the scepticism of the battle-weary followers? On the other hand, the Anarchists' antipolitical message must have fit well the experience of Brazilian or foreign-born Argentine workers, who were effectively excluded from the political system. And it should be remembered that the Anar-

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chist leaders had also often proved capable, contrary to later historical interpretations, of leading well-disciplined, workplace-level strikes on bread-and-butter issues. In a later era, when repression was the order of the day, the Communist expertise at surviving underground, i n part due to the Party's extreme emphasis on discipline, made it especially "appropriate," i n historical terms. It also carried the prestige of a victorious revolution i n Russia, which gave Communist ideology the luster of European success, a virtue that Anarchism and Syndicalism notably lacked. (3) C o h e s i o n of t h e d o m i n a n t e l i t e s : When the challenge from urban labor became acute, consensus among the ruling classes/sectors was put to the test. Of first importance was the nature of the political system. We have seen that Chile was the prime case of a society i n which the middle-sector political leaders, epitomized by Alessandri, sought workingclass electoral support. This was true to a lesser degree of Yrigoyen i n Argentina; i n Brazil there was no counterpart, largely because the Brazilian middle sectors had yet to gain a foothold i n their struggle against the incumbent oligarchy. Here we should note the consequences of Latin America's telescoped political experience. As we have seen, the question of labor relations arose as a major political issue at an early stage of industrialization. Political evolution analogous to that i n Western Europe had not yet taken place. Most important, a reformist-oriented middle-sector political movement — l i k e those of Alessandri and Yrigoyen i n their more generously pro-labor moments—had not yet gained enough ground for it to be able to make partial common cause with the urban workers i n a struggle against the traditional political powers. In all three countries the middle sectors proved susceptible to the appeals of reactionary leaders who warned them that they had much to lose i n the social revolution that their concessions might encourage.

(4) Prevailing

elite

conceptions

of ideal

labor

relations:

This factor is closely linked to the cohesion of the dominant elites. Here we are concerned with the ideas—spelled out i n legal proposals—of elite spokesmen as to how labor relations ought to be structured. We have seen that corporatist ideas

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were important i n Brazil and Chile. Argentina and Brazil both produced elite reasoning about labor similar to that i n Chile; yet we lack studies comparable to that of James Morris on the Chilean case. Ample evidence for Brazil is available i n the debates over the abortive proposals of maverick Congressman Maurício de Lacerda, who i n 1919 introduced bills calling for social welfare legislation and a labor code. There were similar initiatives and accompanying debates i n Argentina. It appears that Latin American political elites adopted a common attitude toward urban labor: if it must be dealt with, then it should be within a carefully circumscribed legal web of obligations and regulations. But the exact similarities and differences i n these stances i n the three countries deserve more attention. (5) E c o n o m i c c o n d i t i o n s : This rubric covers one of the most important and pervasive factors. Here we are asked to apply some of the fundamental questions of labor economics. What are the basic characteristics of the labor market? How is it defined? To what extent is there differentiation by skill? What is the supply/demand relationship by skill category? What are the wage differentials? To what extent are they correlated with verifiable job skills? What of the impact of immigration and internal migration on labor supply? A l l of these questions point to a key question about modern labor markets: are they segmented, i.e., not exhibiting the homogeneity that classical economics has posited? This seemingly technical question leads directly to the vital issue of a "labor aristocracy," whose privileged economic status might create an unbridgeable gap between itself and the unskilled or less skilled. Equally important, have the privileged workers attained and preserved their position by exhibiting scarce skills, or by maintaining institutional barriers? A prime example would be the need for the job applicant to present work papers, which in turn could be obtained only after extraordinary effort (e.g., presenting a birth certificate—often difficult for many workers, whose parents may have been common-law partners at best). Such barriers, which in economic terms have nothing to do with the worker's productive capacity, are typical features of labor surplus economies. To identify barriers of 73

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this type requires patient historical research; it has seldom yet been done for Latin America. Aside from artificial barriers, there is the need to evaluate the labor supply at historical junctures—a difficult task all too seldom attempted i n Latin American labor history. There is also the question of the macroeconomic context. Labor relations are greatly influenced by the basic trend of the economy—if it is growing, then workers may have a relative advantage, since labor may be scarce. If strong demand exists, then firms can pass along increased labor costs i n their prices. The result can be a favorable bargaining position for the workers. Rapid growth also produces n e w jobs, which i n turn help transform the labor market. A further macroeconomic factor is price behavior. We have seen that inflation has repeatedly caused great hardship for workers, whose wages invariably rise more slowly than prices. Workers have often been slow to understand the principle of real versus nominal wages; once learned, however, the lesson is a powerful incentive to militant action. Not infrequently, as we have seen, it has driven workers to aggressive strike action. Finally, there is labor turnover. To what extent were workers able to gain job security? Were employers able to dismiss workers at will, thereby tapping the pool of the unemployed or underemployed? This brings us back to the basic question of the equilibrium between supply and demand for labor, at all the appropriate skill (wage differential?) levels. In the last analysis, these questions may be the most important in helping understand what happened to Latin American workers. As yet, we are left with inadequate data on these questions. Recent research indicates that better answers are there for the finding. It remains for serious students of Latin American labor history to probe the specifics of market conditions. (6) Worker consciousness: To what extent was the attitude of workers a factor? How did they perceive the shortrun and the long-run interests of labor? D i d real democracy exist within the unions? Were workers i n the more privileged industries prepared to sacrifice for the benefit of their com75

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rades i n less favored sectors? To what extent did the union leaders have to respond to initiatives from below? These questions w i l l require a great deal of future research. At this stage we can only guess at the answers and their relative importance. Nonetheless, tentative conclusions are i n order.

Conclusions First, the political elites of Brazil and Chile have had little trouble i n creating labor relations systems subject to elaborate government supervision. The model is corporatist, drawn from a mélange of influences prominent in the interwar period. These included Catholic corporatist ideas, as well as Fascist doctrines from Italy and Germany, although it should be noted that the first proposals to the Congress for a Chilean code predated Mussolini's march on Rome. In Argentina organized labor has proved more independent, although under Perón it was thoroughly subordinated to the government. In neither Brazil nor Chile was an authentic collective bargaining system, à la the U.S. or Western Europe, a live possibility. The elites of those two countries effectively eliminated that option, preferring a highly structured system that would avoid the unpredictability of a free market framework. Second, we need to look more carefully at the nature of corporatism i n Latin America. There is an irony i n leftist labor leadership's attitude toward the corporatist systems of official labor relations i n two of the three countries. The pattern is clearest i n Chile. In the early 1920s the leftist leaders vigorously denounced the labor code proposals which were eventually merged i n the 1924 code. For the following decade most continued to condemn this structure as a device to distort the authentic representation of workers' interests. By the mid-1930s, however, some leaders began to see how useful this structure could be if t h e y (or their responsive political allies) reached power. With the formation of the Popular Front government i n 1938 they got their opportunity. They were able to manipulate the corporatist machinery for what they regarded as the interests of the working class. Thus even the 76

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most militant elements i n the labor movement eventually allowed themselves to participate within the corporatist structure. After 1947 the situation became more complicated. The ideological left wandered i n the political wilderness (in terms of gaining governmental power). But it had the power to defend its hegemony within the labor union structure. A n important test came i n the presidency of Eduardo Frei (19641970), when the President's political party, the Christian Democrats, challenged the Communists and Socialists at the plant level, the crucial point of competition for union representation according to the 1924 code. The Christian Democrats wanted to amend the regulations, which stipulated that the union group with the largest vote won the right to represent all the workers of that plant. The Christian Democrats, usually running third i n plant-level votes, proposed that any union with at least one-third of the vote should be included i n the officially recognized union representation. But the opposition to Frei controlled a majority i n Congress and blocked any change i n the corporatist-inspired system of union recognition. The Christian Democrats lost. Meanwhile, the leftist leadership of labor preserved its stronghold of control over union locals and bided its time for the next presidential election. The leftists' patience and tenacity were rewarded. With the election of Allende i n 1970, as with the Popular Front government of 1938, the leadership of the ideological left, identified primarily with the Communist and Socialist parties, was able to use the extensive governmental labor relations apparatus and legal authority for its own ends. The Unidad Popular government had ambitious plans for revising the labor relations system. But events moved too quickly. With the coup of 1973, this labor leadership felt the full force of its enemies' replacing the system with an instrument for maximum government control of workers. The pattern i n Brazil offered some similarities. The corporatist labor relations system was codified during the authoritarian Estado Novo (1937-1945), when labor leaders of the left were either i n prison, i n hiding, or i n incubation. In 1945, however, that leadership suddenly burst on the scene. The 77

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Communist Party enjoyed a brief surge of support, gaining an impressive foothold among urban workers i n São Paulo. When the Party was outlawed i n 1947, the Communist leadership i n the labor movement suffered a purge, but they managed to re-emerge by the early 1950s. Thenceforth, the Communist labor leaders continuously debated the question of whether they should seek to compete for control of the unions within the extremely circumscribed boundaries of the corporatist structure. By the mid-1950s, the Communists had opted for the system. They met with growing success, reaching the height of their influence in 1962-1964. In those years they found a receptive President in João Goulart, who moved steadily left i n his three years of office between 1961 and his ouster in 1964. Although the militant leftists, who included non-Communists as well as Communists, had not reached the degree of effectiveness achieved by their Chilean counterparts of the Allende era, they were beginning to benefit from their privileged access to the corporatist machinery of the official labor relations system. Here, as in Chile, the military coup was a rude return to reality. Despite early comments about the need to "reform" the labor relations structure, the military-civilian regime taking power i n 1964 quickly discovered the convenience of being able to manipulate the labor union system through the enormous powers of the Ministry of Labor. Unlike their Chilean counterparts, however, they did not have to revamp the machinery. The corporatist creations of an earlier era, intermittently capitalized upon by organized labor's left leadership, had become the all-too-efficient property of a repressive military regime. 79

Argentina never got as complete a corporatist straitjacket as Chile or Brazil. The Argentina military frequently intervened i n the area of labor relations, often revising its legal structure. One of the first priorities of the Pedro Aramburu government (1955-1958) was a thorough overhaul of the Ley de Asociaciones Profesionales. The subsequent military regimes have intermittently attempted to create a labor relations system more responsive to government command. They have been frustrated by an organized labor movement far more self-sufficient and used to autonomous decision-making

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than the Brazilian counterpart. The comparison with Chile raises more difficulties, however. Why has the Argentine labor movement been able to preserve more bargaining power under repressive military regimes than the Chileans? One answer might be that the Chilean regime has been far more ruthless i n its treatment of the labor movement. For reasons whose elucidation would necessarily go beyond the limits of this essay, the Argentine military leaders i n the 1970s have not been able to match the explicitly anti-labor posture of their Chilean colleagues. As a result, labor unions i n Argentina have been able to preserve greater identity and legitimacy than either their Brazilian or their Chilean counterparts. What does this brief historical inquiry tell us about contemporary Latin America? First, we can see more clearly the great importance of the years before 1930. It was an era when dramatic class confrontations left a strong impression on both ruling elites and demonstrating workers. The great general strikes of 1917-1920 (and later i n Chile) frightened the politicians and employers. Their multiple responses, running from paternalistic social welfare legislation to police repression, set the framework for the labor relations systems of our own day. A deeper appreciation of this historical process has been lost behind the prevailing historical wisdom about passive masses, shrewdly manipulative elites, and the "selfdefeating" tactics of Anarchists and Syndicalists. Historians have underrated the mass mobilizations of urban workers, expressed i n militant strikes. This wave of large-scale mobilizations belies the standard picture of ruling classes little concerned before 1945 with the great potential of their masses. The ideas, styles, and institutions on which the elites relied i n the Great Depression were spelled out i n the critical years during World War I and shortly thereafter. Despite the sustained efforts of the political elites, and especially of the military, i n none of the three countries has the "social question" been resolved i n the broader sense i n which that phrase was used during the first two decades of the century. Worker participation i n the structure of labor relations—deciding on such bread-and-butter issues as wages, working conditions, and work rules—has been denied and/or

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distorted. This is a dangerous legacy for economies i n which industry and relatively sophisticated service sectors w i l l be important i n future economic development. The improvement of productivity, for example, w i l l depend upon more meaningful employee participation than corporatist structures now allow. In part this is the psychological dimension of the "social question" as it was debated decades ago. The operation of a modern capitalist industrial economy requires a minimum of consensus, of shared values. In England, France, and the United States that was achieved within a pluralistic political system, where competing social sectors came to acknowledge each other as legitimate contenders for material benefits and status recognition. In the early 1970s Argentina, Brazil, and Chile became garrison states, i n which the highly unequal distribution of benefits could be maintained only by military power: the soldier versus the worker. The technological expertise of the military, combined with the weight of political socialization i n these highly patrimonial societies, continues to favor the men i n uniform. To a surprising degree, however, the moment of confrontation seems similar to those dramatic years during and just after the first Great War, when fiery Anarchist and Syndicalist organizers summoned urban workers to challenge the ruling elites. 80

Notes

Popular Challenges and E l i t e Responses: A n I n t r o d u c t i o n 1.

R i c h a r d G r a h a m , B r i t a i n a n d t h e O n s e t of M o d e r n i z a t i o n i n B r a z i l , 1 8 5 0 - 1 9 1 4 , Cambridge L a t i n A m e r i c a n Studies, 4 (Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1968).

2.

See pp. 40 and 79.

3. 4. 5. 6.

P. P. P. P.

43. 45. 107. 47.

C u l t u r e s i n Conflict: T h e I m p l i c a t i o n of M o d e r n i z a t i o n i n Nineteenth-Century Latin America 1. 2.

3. 4. 5. 6.

Fernando Uricoechea, I n t e l e c t u a l e s y d e s a r r o l l o e n América latina (Buenos A i r e s : C e n t r o E d i t o r de América L a t i n a , 1969), pp. 4 0 - 4 2 . For a general and useful i n t r o d u c t i o n to the roles intellectuals p l a y i n n e w nations, see John Friedman, "Intellectuals i n D e v e l o p i n g Societies, " K y l o s : I n t e r n a t i o n a l R e v i e w f o r S o c i a l S c i e n c e s , 13, Fasc. 4 (i960): 513-544Carlos M e d i n a c e l i , L a i n a c t u a l i d a d d e A l c i d e s Argüedas y o t r o s e s t u d i o s biográficos (La Paz: Los A m i g o s del L i b r o , 1972), pp. 9 3 - 9 4 . Q u o t e d i n José L u i s Romero, A H i s t o r y of A r g e n t i n e P o l i t i c a l T h o u g h t (Stanford: Stanford U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1963), p. 145. M e d i n a c e l i , L a i n a c t u a l i d a d , p. 144. José E n r i q u e Rodó wrote i n 1903 that Facundo exerted a profound i n fluence i n a l l of L a t i n A m e r i c a (La tradición i n t e l e c t u a l a r g e n t i n a [Buenos A i r e s : E d i t o r i a l U n i v e r s i t a r i a de Buenos A i r e s , 1968], pp. 16-17).

7.

Pedro Calmón, História

8.

1975), 1 : 4 0 5 - 4 0 6 . D . F. Sarmiento, Life

d e D . P e d r o II (Rio de Janeiro: José O l y m p i o ,

i nthe Argentine Republic

i n t h e D a y s of

the

128

NOTES TO PAGES 20-24 T y r a n t s ; o r , C i v i l i z a t i o n a n d B a r b a r i s m ( N e w Y o r k : Hafner, n.d.),

9.

P. 42. Atilio Garcia Mellid, M o n t o n e r a s y c a u d i l l o s e n l a h i s t o r i a a r g e n t i n a (Buenos A i r e s : Editorial U n i v e r s i t a r i a de Buenos A i r e s , 1974), P. 4 T h e government's p o l i c y was to eradicate the Indians (Ramón Tissera, " C u a n d o gobernar era despopular," T o d o E s H i s t o r i a [Buenos Aires], no. 96 [ M a y 1975]: 56, 58). Such genocide extended to the gaucho as w e l l . Sarmiento wrote to Bartolomé M i t r e : " D o not try to save gaucho blood. It is the fertilizer needed to m a k e our n a t i o n flourish. B l o o d is the o n l y t h i n g the gaucho has w h i c h is h u m a n " (cited i n M a n u e l Gálvez, V i d a d e S a r m i e n t o [Buenos A i r e s , 1952], p. 245). W h i l e s t i l l associated w i t h the Generation of 1837, Juan Bautista A l b e r d i pronounced, " I n order to c i v i l i z e by means of populations, i t is necessary to do i t w i t h c i v i l i z e d people; i n order to educate our A m e r i c a i n liberty and i n d u s t r y i t is necessary to populate i t w i t h the peoples of Europe most advanced i n liberty and i n d u s t r y as happens i n the U n i t e d States'' ( B a s e s y p u n t o s d e p a r t i d a p a r a l a organización política d e l a República A r g e n t i n a [Buenos A i r e s : L a C u l t u r a Argentina, 1916], pp. 14-15; first edition, 1852). 2.

10.

11.

12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18.

19.

S o l o m o n L i p p , T h r e e C h i l e a n T h i n k e r s (Waterloo, Ontario, Canada: W i l f r i d Laurier U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1975), p. 16. For Bilbao's discussion of the people of the countryside, see S o c i a b i l i d a d c h i l e n a , reprinted i n O b r a s c o m p l e t a s d e F r a n c i s c o B i l b a o (Santiago: Imprenta de Buenos Aires, 1865), 1 : 2 8 - 3 0 , passim. For a fascinating analysis of A m a l i a , see the perceptive essay by Hernán V i d a l , " A m a l i a : M e l o d r a m a y Dependencia," I é) L : I d e o l o g i e s é) L i t e r a t u r e , I, no. 2 ( F e b r u a r y - A p r i l 1977): 4 1 - 6 9 . C l o r i n d a M a t t o de Turner, A v e s s i n n i d o (Buenos A i r e s : Solar/ Hachette, 1968), p. 38. Ibid., pp. 15-16. Ibid., p. 19. Ibid., p. 167. Ibid., p. 120. Ibid., p. 131. In another essay, also published i n 1889, M a t t o de T u r n e r further emphasized the importance of education as a s o l u t i o n to the debasement of the Indians. In order to educate the people, Peru needed "more free schools, industries, factories, work, and honor among m e n " (quoted i n Francisco C a r i l l o , C l o r i n d a M a t t o d e T u r n e r y s u i n d i g e n i s m o [ L i m a : Ediciones de l a Biblioteca U n i v e r s i t a r i a , 1967], p. 33). A few years later, i n 1904, M a n u e l González Prada wrote i n quite a different v e i n that o n l y the Indians c o u l d redeem themselves, and the first step w o u l d be rebellion. "Every w h i t e m a n is more or less a P i z a r r o " [ H o r a s d e l u c h a [ L i m a : Ediciones Peisa, 1969], p. 235). Euclides da C u n h a , R e b e l l i o n i n t h e B a c k l a n d s (Chicago: U n i v e r sity of Chicago Press, 1957), pp. 464, 78.

NOTES TO PAGES 2 5 - 2 8

129

20. 21.

Ibid., p. 481. D a C u n h a found an i n t e l l e c t u a l a l l y i n his respect for the people of the interior i n the aristocrat Eduardo Prado, w h o noted, " T h e c a b o c l o is a m a n w h o m a l l of us m u s t admire for his energy and because, w h e n a l l is said, it is he w h o is Brazil, the real Brazil, very different from the artificial c o s m o p o l i t a n i s m i n w h i c h we, the inhabitants of this great city, live. It was he w h o made B r a z i l " (quoted b y T h o m a s E. Skidmore, "Eduardo Prado: A Conservative N a t i o n a l i s t C r i t i c of the Early B r a z i l i a n Republic, 1 8 8 9 - 1 9 0 1 / ' L u s o B r a z i l i a n R e v i e w , 12, no. 2 [Winter 1975]: 155).

22. 23.

D a C u n h a , R e b e l l i o n , pp. 408, 454. A renowned twentieth-century M e x i c a n intellectual, O c t a v i o Paz, practically paraphrased da C u n h a w h e n he observed, " T h e T h i r d W o r l d is c o n d e m n e d to m o d e r n i t y and the task confronting us is not so m u c h to escape this fate as to discover a less i n h u m a n f o r m of c o n v e r s i o n " (quoted i n T i m e , January 29, 1973, p. 85).

24.

Jorge M o r e a l , " A m e r i c a n i s m o , " D o m Q u i x o t e (Rio de Janeiro), 1, no. 8 (1895): 3. In an interesting parallel w i t h Argentina, these descriptions duplicate Sarmiento's characterization of the Indian, A f r i c a n , and Spaniard (Life i n t h e A r g e n t i n e R e p u b l i c , p. 11). T h e attitudes toward the bleaching process are s u m m a r i z e d b y T h o m a s E. Skidmore, B l a c k i n t o W h i t e : R a c e a n d N a t i o n a l i t y i n B r a z i l i a n T h o u g h t ( N e w Y o r k : O x f o r d U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1974), pp. 6 4 - 6 9 . M a g n u s M o r n e r , R a c e M i x t u r e i n t h e H i s t o r y of L a t i n A m e r i c a (Boston: L i t t l e , B r o w n and C o m p a n y , 1967), pp. 104-105. In this paragraph to this point, I have drawn h e a v i l y f r o m the useful essay by T. G . Powell, " M e x i c a n Intellectuals and the Indian Quest i o n , 1876-1911," H i s p a n i c A m e r i c a n H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , 48, no. 1 (February 1968): 3 7 - 5 8 . T h e literature o n m o d e r n i z a t i o n i n general and o n m o d e r n i z a t i o n i n L a t i n A m e r i c a i n particular is vast. Some of the w i d e l y recognized and quoted studies are: M a r i o n J. Levy, M o d e r n i z a t i o n a n d t h e S t r u c t u r e of S o c i e t i e s : A S e t t i n g f o r I n t e r n a t i o n a l Affairs, 2 vols. (Princeton: P r i n c e t o n U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1966); C y r i l Black, T h e D y n a m i c s of M o d e r n i z a t i o n : A S t u d y i n C o m p a r a t i v e H i s t o r y ( N e w Y o r k : Harper & Row, 1967); S. N . Eisenstadt, M o d e r n i z a t i o n : P r o t e s t a n d C h a n g e (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: P r e n t i c e - H a l l , 1966); I. R. Sinai, I n S e a r c h of t h e M o d e r n W o r l d ( N e w Y o r k : A m e r i c a n Library, 1967); D a v i d E. Apter, T h e P o l i t i c s of M o d e r n i z a t i o n (Chicago: U n i v e r s i t y of Chicago Press, 1967); and Joseph A . K a h l , T h e M e a s u r e m e n t of M o d e r n i s m : A S t u d y of V a l u e s i n B r a z i l a n d M e x i c o ( A u s t i n : U n i v e r s i t y of Texas Press, 1968). A n o t h e r useful w o r k is Peter Berger, Brigitte Berger, and Hansfried Kellner, T h e H o m e l e s s M i n d : M o d e r n i z a t i o n a n d C o n s c i o u s n e s s ( N e w Y o r k : Vintage, 1974). I agree w i t h these authors i n their equation for the T h i r d W o r l d of m o d e r n i z a t i o n w i t h Westernizat i o n (p. 131) and w i t h their c o n c l u s i o n that m o d e r n i z a t i o n de-cultures

25.

26. 27.

28.

130

NOTES TO PAGES 30-33 the T h i r d World, creating "a spreading c o n d i t i o n of homelessness" (p. 138). I admire the critique of m o d e r n i z a t i o n made by D e a n C . Tipps, " M o d e r n i z a t i o n T h e o r y and the Comparative Study of Societies: A C r i t i c a l Perspective," C o m p a r a t i v e S t u d i e s i n S o c i e t y a n d H i s t o r y , 15, no. 2 ( M a r c h 1973): 119-226. H e notes that the concept of m o d e r n i z a t i o n is popular because i t obscures rather t h a n clarifies (p. 199) and that ethnocentric criteria becloud m o d e r n i z a t i o n theories (p. 206). There are three excellent studies of the m o d e r n i z a t i o n process i n nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a : R i c h a r d G r a h a m , B r i t a i n a n d t h e O n s e t of M o d e r n i z a t i o n i n B r a z i l , 1 8 5 0 - 1 9 1 4 (Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1968); Roberto Cortés Conde, T h e F i r s t S t a g e s of M o d e r n i z a t i o n i n S p a n i s h A m e r i c a (New Y o r k : H a r p e r & Row, 1974); and Edward D e n n i s Hernández, " M o d e r n i z a t i o n and Dependency i n C o s t a R i c a during the Decade of the 1880s" (Ph.D. dissertation, U n i v e r s i t y of California, Los Angeles, 1975).

29.

30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36.

37. 38. 39.

C o l . A l v a r o G a b r i e l Barros, A c t u a l i d a d financiera d e l a República A r g e n t i n a (Buenos A i r e s : Imp. Librerías de M a y o , 1875), quoted i n L a Opinión C u l t u r a l (Buenos Aires), June 7, 1975, p. 2. F e r m i n Chávez, Civilización y b a r b a r i e e n l a h i s t o r i a d e c u l t u r a arg e n t i n a (Buenos A i r e s : Ediciones Theoria, 1974), p. 56. Juan Bautista A l b e r d i , O b r a s c o m p l e t a s (Buenos A i r e s : Imprenta de l a T r i b u n a N a c i o n a l , 1887), 4: 69. Ibid., 7: 156; see also Alberdi's E s c r i t o s p o s t u m o s (Buenos A i r e s : Imprenta Europa, 1848), 10: 241. O b r a s c o m p l e t a s , 4: 68. Ibid., 7: 166. Ibid., 7: 163-164. "To c i v i l i z e ourselves, to improve ourselves, to perfect ourselves according to our needs and our means: that is our n a t i o n a l destiny w h i c h can be s u m m a r i z e d by this single word: Progress" (quoted i n José Ingenieros, L a evolución d e l a s i d e a s a r g e n t i n a s [Buenos A i r e s : E l Ateneo, 1951], 2: 499). José Hernández, T h e G a u c h o M a r t i n F i e r r o (Albany, N . Y . : State U n i versity of N e w Y o r k Press, 1974), p. 83. A l b e r t o J. Pia, Ideología y método e n l a h i s t o r i o g r a f i a a r g e n t i n a (Buenos A i r e s : Ediciones N u e v a Visión, 1972), p. 42. "Indeed, m u c h capital for development i n the first half of the nineteenth century came f r o m l o c a l merchants themselves. T h e arrival of m o d e r n industrial technology i n the latter half of the century sustained Argentine economic expansion but cost creoles their c o n t r o l of domestic processing and transport. A l t h o u g h m o d e r n technology made possible n e w exports of beef and wheat, i t proved expensive.. . . Argentine merchants lost m u c h of their previous c o m m a n d of the c o m m e r c i a l infrastructure. ' N e o c o l o n i a l i s m ' and 'dependency'—if they ever characterized economic development i n A r g e n t i n a — c e r t a i n l y postdate i 8 6 0 . In the first half of the nineteenth century, the

NOTES TO PAGES 34-4I

131

economy of the Río de l a Plata had responded to foreign trade i n a w a y that expanded the l o c a l l y dominated m a r k e t i n g and processing syst e m at Buenos A i r e s " (Jonathan C. B r o w n , " D y n a m i c and A u t o n o m y of a Traditional M a r k e t i n g System: Buenos A i r e s , 1 8 1 0 - 1 8 6 0 , " H i s p a n i c A m e r i c a n H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , 56, 4 [November 1976]: 629). 40. For Hernández's v i e w o n the question of l a n d reform, see h i s essay, " L a división de l a tierra," published i n E l Río d e l a P l a t a (Buenos Aires), September 1, 1879. 41. Sílvio Romero, História d a l i t e r a t u r a b r a s i l e i r a , 2d ed. (Rio de Janeiro: H . Garnier, 1902), 1: 11. 42. Ibid., 1: 102. 43. João Capistrano de A b r e u , " O caracter nacional e as origens do povo brasileiro," O G l o b o (Rio de Janeiro), M a r c h 9, 1876, p. 3. 44. João Capistrano de A b r e u , E n s a i o s e e s t u d o s (Rio de Janeiro: Briguiet, 1931), 1: i i i . 45. G e r m á n Carrera D a m a s has made an excellent s u m m a r y and analysis of this book i n his T e m a s d e h i s t o r i a s o c i a l y d e l a s i d e a s (Caracas: Ediciones de l a Biblioteca de l a U n i v e r s i d a d C e n t r a l de Venezuela, 1969), pp. 139-165. 46. Ramón Ramirez, E l c r i s t i a n i s m o y l a l i b e r t a d : E n s a y o s o b r e l a c i v i l i zación a m e r i c a n a (Caracas: Imprenta de V. Espinal, 1855), p. x i i . 47. Ignacio M a n u e l A l t a m i r a n o , C h r i s t m a s i n t h e M o u n t a i n s (Gainesv i l l e : U n i v e r s i t y of Florida Press, 1961), pp. 6-7, 66. 48. Q u o t e d by Joaquin V. González, "Estudio P r e l i m i n a r , " i n M i s m o n t a r i a s (Buenos A i r e s : Editorial Kapelusz, 1965), p. x i x . 49. I expand o n this idea i n "Ideology i n N i n e t e e n t h - C e n t u r y L a t i n A m e r i c a n Historiography," H i s p a n i c A m e r i c a n H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , 58, no. 3 (August 1978): 4 0 9 - 4 3 1 . 50. Robert K. M e r t o n , " T h e Sociology of Knowledge," I s i s , no. 75, v o l . 27, no. 3 (November 1937): 493; Edward H a l l e t t Carr, W h a t I s H i s t o r y ? (New Y o r k : R a n d o m House, 1961), p. 42; G u n n a r M y r d a l , O b j e c t i v i t y i n S o c i a l R e s e a r c h (London: G e r a l d D u c k w o r t h , 1970), p. 44; F e l i x G i l b e r t , "Intellectual H i s t o r y : Its A i m s and M e t h o d s , " D a e d a l u s , 100, no. I (Winter 1971): 8 7 - 8 8 ; N o r m a n Pollack, "Fear of M a n : Popu l i s m , A u t h o r i t a r i a n i s m , and the H i s t o r i a n , " A g r i c u l t u r a l H i s t o r y , 39, no. 2 ( A p r i l 1965): 6 0 - 6 4 . 51. Ricardo Levene, L a s i d e a s históricas d e M i t r e (Buenos A i r e s : Casa Editora C o n i , 1948), p. 87. 52. P l a , Ideología, p. 33. 53. Bartolomé M i t r e , C o r r e s p o n d e n c i a l i t e r a r i a , histórica, y política del G e n e r a l Bartolomé M i t r e (Buenos A i r e s : C o n i H e r m a n o s , 1912), 3: 284. 54. Romero, H i s t o r y of A r g e n t i n e P o l i t i c a l T h o u g h t , pp. 82, 89. 5 5. A l t h o u g h these paragraphs reflect some influence of Robert Redfield, " T h e F o l k Society," A m e r i c a n J o u r n a l of S o c i o l o g y , 52, no. 4 (January 1947): 2 9 3 - 3 0 8 , and G i d e o n Sjoberg, " F o l k and 'Feudal' Societies,"

132

56. 57. 58. 5 9. 60.

61. 62.

63. 64.

65. 66. 67.

68. 69. 70.

71.

NOTES TO PAGES 43-48 A m e r i c a n J o u r n a l of S o c i o l o g y , 58, no. 3 (November 1952): 2 3 1 - 2 3 9 , I feel m o s t indebted to the ideas of George M . Foster, " W h a t i s F o l k C u l t u r e ? " A m e r i c a n A n t h r o p o l o g i s t , 55, no. 2, part 1 ( A p r i l - J u n e 1953): 159-173. Foster's concept of "folk c u l t u r e " h a r m o n i z e s w i t h and has influenced m y o w n interpretations of the popular alternatives i n nineteenth-century L a t i n A m e r i c a . Robert E. Gamer, T h e D e v e l o p i n g N a t i o n s : A C o m p a r a t i v e P e r s p e c t i v e (Boston: A l l y n and Bacon, 1976), pp. 6 1 - 6 2 , 9 7 - 9 8 . Roberto Ares Pons, "Sed de padres," L a Opinión

(Buenos Aires), A p r i l

27, 1975, P. 9. Romero, H i s t o r y of A r g e n t i n e P o l i t i c a l T h o u g h t , pp. 124, 127. Juan Bautista A l b e r d i , G r a n d e s y p e q u e n o s h o m b r e s d e l P l a t a , 4 t h ed. (Buenos A i r e s : Editorial P l u s U l t r a , 1974), pp. 154, 161, 155. M a n u e l Gálvez, " V i d a de A p a r i c i o Saravia," i n B i o g r a f i a s c o m p l e t a s d e M a n u e l Gálvez (Buenos A i r e s : Emecé Editores, 1962), p. 1540. T h e first edition was published i n 1942. A r t u r o Jauretche, Política n a c i o n a l y r e v i s i o n i s m o histórico (Buenos A i r e s : Editorial A . Pena L i l l o , 1959), p. 61. Rodolfo Ortega Pena and Eduardo L u i s D u h a l d e suggest h o w popular songs of the 1860s can be used to revise the standard h i s t o r i c a l v i e w of that period i n F o l k l o r e a r g e n t i n o y r e v i s i o n i s m o histórico (Buenos A i r e s : Editorial Sudestada, 1967). Leonardo Paso, L o s c a u d i l l o s : H i s t o r i a o f o l k l o r e (Buenos A i r e s : Sílaba, 1969), p. 190. Popular culture as a f o r m of resistance to elitist d o m i n a t i o n i s the subject of a provocative essay by L u i g i M . L o m b a r d i Satriani, " F o l k lore y cultura popular," L o s L i b r o s (Buenos Aires, January-February, 1975), pp. 3 - 9 ; Paso, L o s C a u d i l l o s : H i s t o r i a o F o l k l o r e , p. 190. Paulo de Carvalho-Neto, E l f o l k l o r e d e l a s l u c h a s s o c i a l e s ( M e x i c o C i t y : Siglo V e i n t i u n o Editores, 1973), p. 155. E m i l i o F. M o r a n , "Some Semantic Categories i n B r a z i l i a n C a b o c l o F o l k Narratives, " L u s o - B r a z i l i a n R e v i e w , 11, no. 2 (Winter 1974): 221. M e r l e E. S i m m o n s , T h e M e x i c a n C o r r i d o a s a S o u r c e f o r I n t e r p r e t i v e S t u d y of M o d e r n M e x i c o ( 1 8 7 0 - 1 9 5 0 ) (Bloomington: Indiana U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1957), pp. 7, 33. Ibid., p. 35; M a r k J. C u r r a n , " A página editorial do poeta popular," R e v i s t a B r a s i l e i r a d e F o l c l o r e , no. 32 ( J a n u a r y - A p r i l 1972): 5. Sjoberg, " F o l k and 'Feudal' Societies," p. 234. D r . Pedro M o l i n a expressed this idea w e l l i n a p u b l i c speech, September 16, 1832, G u a t e m a l a C i t y , reprinted i n Hector H u m b e r t o Samayoa Guevara, L a enseñanza d e l a h i s t o r i a e n G u a t e m a l a ( d e s d e 1 8 3 2 h a s t a 1 8 5 2 ) (Guatemala C i t y : Imprenta U n i v e r s i t a r i a , 1959), pp. 1 1 3 120. R a l p h Lee Woodward, Jr., S o c i a l R e v o l u t i o n i n G u a t e m a l a : T h e C a r r e r a R e v o l t , M i d d l e A m e r i c a n Research Institute P u b l i c a t i o n 23, no. 3 ( N e w Orleans: Tulane U n i v e r s i t y , 1971), p. 50.

NOTES TO PAGES 48-5

I

133

72.

Rafael Carrera understood that f u n c t i o n of the C h u r c h and discussed it sympathetically i n his I n f o r m e q u e dirijió e l P r e s i d e n t e d e l a R e pública d e G u a t e m a l a a l C u e r p o R e p r e s e n t a t i v o , e n s u instalación e l día 15 d e A g o s t o d e 1 8 4 8 (Guatemala C i t y : Imprenta de l a Paz, 1848), p. 3.

73.

Ignacio Solis, ed., M e m o r i a s del G e n e r a l C a r r e r a , 1 8 3 7 - 1 8 4 0 (Guatem a l a C i t y : Tipografía Sánchez & D e G u i s e , 1906), p. 15. Carrera, I n f o r m e . . . 1 8 4 8 , p. 3. Ibid., pp. 2 - 3 . E l N o t i c i o s o (Guatemala C i t y ) , October 26, 1861. T h e revised v i e w of the Carrera period needs further testing and support. K e i t h L. M i c e l i offers a useful revisionist perspective i n "Rafael Carrera: Defender and Promoter of Peasant Interests i n G u a t e m a l a , " T h e A m e r i c a s , 31, no. 1 (July 1974): 7 2 - 9 5 . In h i s recent C e n t r a l A m e r i c a : A N a t i o n D i v i d e d ( N e w Y o r k : O x f o r d U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1976) R a l p h Lee Woodward, Jr., takes a cautiously revisionist stand o n Carrera and w e l l represents what Carrera signified for the Indian popu l a t i o n . See particularly pp. 118-119. For a fuller consideration of this topic by Woodward, see h i s S o c i a l R e v o l u t i o n i n G u a t e m a l a , pp. 6 3 64, 67, 68. Perhaps the earliest and one of the best revisionist studies i n E n g l i s h is M a x L e o n M o o r h e a d , "Rafael Carrera of G u a t e m a l a : H i s Life and T i m e s " (Ph.D. dissertation, U n i v e r s i t y of C a l i f o r n i a , Berkeley, 1942). For the G u a t e m a l a n side of this r e v i s i o n i s m , see particularly M a n u e l Coronado Aguilar, A p u n t e s histórico-guatemalenses (Guatemala C i t y : E d i t o r i a l José de Pineda Ibarra, 1975).

74. 75. 76. 77.

78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83.

84.

85.

M a n u e l Coronado Aguilar, E l G e n e r a l R a f a e l C a r r e r a a n t e l a h i s t o r i a (Guatemala C i t y : L a E d i t o r i a l de Ejército, 1965), pp. 5 4 - 5 5 . M o o r h e a d , "Rafael Carrera," pp. 62, 67; Woodward, S o c i a l R e v o l u t i o n i n G u a t e m a l a , p. 68. Woodward, S o c i a l R e v o l u t i o n i n G u a t e m a l a , pp. 64, 68. Ibid., p. 67. E l T i e m p o (Guatemala C i t y ) , A u g u s t 30, 1839. S. A . L a z a r d , " E l Excelentísimo Señor G r a l . D o n Rafael Carrera," E l P r o g r e s o N a c i o n a l (Guatemala City), M a y 7, 1895. A l t h o u g h u n s y m pathetic to Carrera, this essay c o m m e n t s o n his "frequent excursions to the departments." For an 1845 v i s i t to Esquipulas, see A r c h i v o General de C e n t r o A m e r i c a , G u a t e m a l a C i t y (abbreviated hereafter as A G C A ) , B119.2, Exp. 58175, Leg. 2535, F o l . 1 (December 20, 1845). Information o n the tax changes w i l l be found i n Woodward, S o c i a l R e v o l u t i o n i n G u a t e m a l a , p. 63; E l T i e m p o (Guatemala C i t y ) , February 25, 1840; and M i c e l i , "Rafael Carrera," pp. 7 8 - 7 9 , 9 0 - 9 5 . Rafael Carrera, I n f o r m e d i r i j i d o p o r e l E x m o Sr. P r e s i d e n t e d e l a República d e G u a t e m a l a Capitán G e n e r a l D o n R a f a e l C a r r e r a a l a Cámara d e R e p r e s e n t a n t e s e n l a O p e r t u r a d e s u s S e g u n d a s S e s i o n e s , E l día 2 5 d e n o v i e m b r e d e 1 8 5 3 (Guatemala C i t y : Imprenta de l a Paz, 1853), pp. 7 - 8 .

134 86.

87.

88. 89. 90. 91. 92.

93. 94. 95. 96.

97. 98. 99.

NOTES TO PAGES 5 I —56 Sotero Carrera, B a n d o d e p o l i c i a y b u e n g o b i e r n o e x p e d i d o p a r a e l Departamento d e Sacatepequez por su Corregidor y Comandante G e n e r a l B r i g a d i e r Sr. S o t e r o C a r r e r a (Guatemala C i t y : Imprenta de l a Aurora, 1849), A G C A Impreso N o . 5096C. Coronado Aguilar, E l G e n e r a l R a f a e l C a r r e r a , 37; Woodward, S o c i a l R e v o l u t i o n i n G u a t e m a l a , p. 68. Examples of the government's concern w i t h c o m m u n a l lands can be found i n the A G C A . See: B100.1, Expt. 33282, Leg. 1419 ( A p r i l 12, 1841); B100.1, Exp. 33274, Leg. 1419 (November 29, 1841); B100.1, 33305, Leg. 1419 (November 14, 1843); B i o o . i , Exp. 33356, Leg. 1419 (November 2, 1844); B100.1, Exp. 5370, Leg. 3633 ( M a r c h 15, 1853); a n d B i o o . i , Exp. 33326, Leg. 1419 ( A p r i l 19, 1863). Moorhead, "Rafael Carrera," pp. 52, 120. Carrera, I n f o r m e . . . 1 8 4 8 , pp. 3, 9 - 1 0 . " E l antagonismo de razas," E l N o t i c i o s o (Guatemala C i t y ) , September 26, 1862. M i g u e l Boada y Balmes, "Fantasía," E l N o t i c i o s o (Guatemala C i t y ) , October 17, 1862. E l N o t i c i o s o (Guatemala City), October 19 and December 11, 1861; see i n particular the editorial i n L a S e m a n a (Guatemala C i t y ) , January 18, 1865. Carrera, I n f o r m e . . . 1 8 4 8 , p. 12. Felipe de Jesùs, María: H i s t o r i a d e u n a mártir, 2d ed. (Guatemala C i t y : Editorial José de Pineda Ibarra, 1967), pp. 2 7 - 3 0 . Ibid., p. 175. D a v i d J. M c C r e e r y , "Coffee and Class: T h e Structure of D e v e l o p m e n t i n Liberal G u a t e m a l a , " H i s p a n i c A m e r i c a n H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , 56, no. 3 (August 1976): 444; V a l e n t i n Solórzano F., Evolución económica d e G u a t e m a l a , Seminario de Integración Social de G u a t e m a l a P u b l i cación N o . 28 (Guatemala C i t y : Editorial José de Pineda Ibarra, 1970), p. 350. Ibid., pp. 354, 356, 373-374. M c C r e e r y , "Coffee and C l a s s , " pp. 4 5 6 - 4 5 8 . O l i v e r L a Farge, " M a y a Ethnology: T h e Sequence of C u l t u r e s , " i n T h e M a y a a n d T h e i r N e i g h b o r s (New Y o r k : A p p l e ton-Century, 1962), p. 291. A l f o n s o V i l l a Rojas extends that c o n c l u s i o n to the Chiapas h i g h lands i n " T h e Concepts of Space and T i m e among the C o n t e m p o r a r y M a y a , " i n T i m e a n d R e a l i t y i n t h e T h o u g h t of t h e M a y a , ed. M i g u e l León Portilla (Boston: Beacon Press, 1973), p. 117. A s i m i l a r effect of the Peruvian sugar i n d u s t r y on the A n d e a n Indians i n the late n i n e teenth century has been discussed by Jean P i e l , " T h e Place of the Peasantry i n the N a t i o n a l Life of Peru i n the N i n e t e e n t h C e n t u r y , " P a s t a n d P r e s e n t , no. 46 (February 1970): 127, 131; and by Peter F. Klaren, M o d e r n i z a t i o n , D i s l o c a t i o n , a n d A p r i s m o : O r i g i n s of t h e P e r u v i a n A p r i s t a P a r t y , 1 8 7 0 - 1 9 3 2 ( A u s t i n : U n i v e r s i t y of Texas Press, 1973), pp. 2 6 - 3 1 .

NOTES TO PAGES 56-63

135

100. José A . Beteta, E d m u n d o (Guatemala C i t y : Tipografía N a c i o n a l , 1896), pp. 2 3 - 2 4 . 101. E v e l y n H u - D e h a r t , "Development and R u r a l R e b e l l i o n : Pacification of the Yaquis i n the Late Porfiriato," H i s p a n i c A m e r i c a n H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , 54, no. 1 (February 1974): 7 2 - 9 3 . 102.

G a r y H . Gossen, "Translating Cuscat's War: U n d e r s t a n d i n g M a y a O r a l H i s t o r y , " J o u r n a l of L a t i n A m e r i c a n L o r e , 3, no. 2 (Winter 1977):

273. 103. Jean A . Meyer, P r o b l e m a s c a m p e s i n o s y r e v u e l t a s a g r a r i a s ( 1 8 2 1 1 9 1 0 ) ( M e x i c o C i t y : Sepsetentas, 1973), pp. 8 - 2 5 , 6 6 - 6 7 ; John M . Hart, A n a r c h i s m a n d t h e M e x i c a n W o r k i n g C l a s s , 1 8 6 0 - 1 9 31 (Austin: U n i v e r s i t y of Texas Press, 1978), pp. 62, 6 8 - 6 9 , 78ff. 104. N e l s o n Reed, T h e C a s t e War of Yucatán (Stanford: Stanford U n i v e r sity Press, 1964), p. 61. 105. Ibid., p. 220. 106. V i c t o r i a Reifler Bricker, " T h e Caste War of Yucatán: T h e H i s t o r y of a M y t h and the M y t h of H i s t o r y , " i n A n t h r o p o l o g y a n d H i s t o r y i n Yucatán, ed. G r a n t D . Jones ( A u s t i n : U n i v e r s i t y of Texas Press, 1977), pp. 256-257. 107. Oswaldo A l b o r n o z P., L a s l u c h a s indígenas e n e l E c u a d o r (Guayaquil: E d i t o r i a l Claridad, n.d.), pp. 3 3 - 5 0 . 108. Robert Brent T o p l i n , " U p h e a v a l , V i o l e n c e and the A b o l i t i o n of Slavery i n B r a z i l , " H i s p a n i c A m e r i c a n H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , 49, no. 4 (November 1969): 646. 109. Prince Adalbert, T r a v e l s i n t h e S o u t h of E u r o p e a n d i n B r a z i l (London, 110.

111.

112.

113.

114. 115.

1849), 2: 4 3 - 4 4 T w o scholars w h o devote attention to slave resistance i n nineteenthcentury L a t i n A m e r i c a are Leslie B. Rout, Jr., T h e A f r i c a n E x p e r i e n c e i n S p a n i s h A m e r i c a : 1 5 0 2 t o t h e P r e s e n t (Cambridge, Eng.: C a m bridge U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1976), pp. 185-312; and Emília V i o t t i da Costa, D a s e n z a l a à c o l o n i a (São Paulo: Difusão Européia do L i v r o , 1966), pp. 3 0 5 - 3 2 9 . For an excellent study of this n o v e l as w e l l as others germane to this topic, see R a y m o n d S. Sayers, T h e N e g r o i n B r a z i l i a n L i t e r a t u r e ( N e w Y o r k : H i s p a n i c Institute, 1956). João José Reis, " A elite baiana face os m o v i m e n t o s sociais, Bahia: 1824-1840," R e v i s t a d e História (São Paulo), 54, no. 108, year 27 (1976): 341-348. M a n u e l C o r r e i a de Andrade, " T h e Social and E t h n i c Significance of the War of the Cabanos," i n P r o t e s t a n d R e s i s t a n c e i n A n g o l a a n d B r a z i l : C o m p a r a t i v e S t u d i e s , ed. R o n a l d H . C h i l c o t e (Berkeley and Los Angeles: U n i v e r s i t y of C a l i f o r n i a Press, 1972), p. 103. Hélio V i a n n a , História d o B r a s i l (São Paulo: Edições M e l h o r a m e n t o s , 1961), 2: 118. Q u o t e d i n R o d e r i c k J. B a r m a n , " T h e B r a z i l i a n Peasantry Reexamined: T h e Implications of the Q u e b r a - Q u i l o Revolt, 1 8 7 4 - 1 8 7 5 , " H i s p a n i c

136

116.

117. 118.

119. 120. 121.

122.

NOTES TO PAGES 6 3 - 6 4 A m e r i c a n H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , 57, no. 3 (August 1977): 402, 409. For another n e w interpretation of the Quebra-Quilo Revolt, see Geraldo Irinêo Joffily, " O Quebra-Quilo (A revolta dos matutos contra os doutores) (1874)/' R e v i s t a d e História (São Paulo), 54, no. 107, year 27 (1976): 6 9 - 1 4 5 . B a r m a n offers an excellent s u m m a t i o n of the significance of the Quebra-Quilo Revolt: " A s this essay has attempted to demonstrate, the peasants i n the agreste possessed a well-established independent culture and social system. T h e y were neither o n the m a r g i n of society, nor were the goals of the revolt unrealistic. T h e peasants achieved precisely what they intended. Indeed the Quebra-Quilo revolt can be classed as an u n u s u a l l y successful and sophisticated example of a f o r m of a c t i o n — t h e r i o t — c o m m o n l y employed i n preindustrial and premodern societies by groups outside the official w o r l d to c a l l attent i o n to their views and needs and to block officiai activities w h i c h they considered detrimental to their interests. Since such forms of act i o n d i d not a i m at t a k i n g control of or giving positive direction to the body p o l i t i c , they can be described as prepolitical. Whether or not this lack of ' p o l i t i c a l consciousness' is to be deplored, i t s h o u l d not be equated w i t h a lack of comprehension or w i t h an i n a b i l i t y to act efficiently, as the Quebra-Quilo revolt demonstrates" ("The B r a z i l i a n Peasantry Reexamined," p. 423). José Nicolás M a t i e n z o , E l g o b i e m o r e p r e s e n t a t i v o f e d e r a l e n l a R e pública A r g e n t i n a (Madrid: Editorial A m e r i c a , 1910), p. 130. Q u o t e d by J. León Helguera, "Antecedentes sociales de l a Revolución de 1851 en el Sur de C o l o m b i a (1848-1849)," A n u a r i o C o l o m b i a n o d e H i s t o r i a S o c i a l y d e l a C u l t u r a (Bogotá), no. 5 (1970): 55. "Railroads, Landholding, and Agrarian Protest i n the Early Porfiriato, " H i s p a n i c A m e r i c a n H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , 54, no. 1 (February 1974): 49ff. Ezequiel G a l l o , F a r m e r s i n R e v o l t : T h e R e v o l u t i o n s of 1 8 9 3 i n t h e P r o v i n c e of S a n t a Fé, A r g e n t i n a (London: A t h l o n e Press, 1976). E. J. H o b s b a w m , P r i m i t i v e R e b e l s : S t u d i e s i n A r c h a i c F o r m s of S o c i a l M o v e m e n t i n t h e 1 9 t h a n d 2 0 t h C e n t u r i e s ( N e w Y o r k : W. W. N o r t o n , 1965). Bryan R. W i l s o n makes a useful connection between revolut i o n and m i l l e n n i a l i s m w h i c h is applicable to the L a t i n A m e r i c a n experience i n M a g i c a n d M i l l e n n i u m : A S o c i o l o g i c a l S t u d y of R e l i g i o u s M o v e m e n t s of P r o t e s t a m o n g T r i b a l a n d T h i r d - W o r l d P e o p l e s (New Y o r k : Harper & Row, 1973), p. 196. M a r i a Isaura Pereira de Queiroz, I m a g e s m e s s i a n i q u e s d u Brésil (Cuernavaca, M e x i c o : C e n t r o Intercultural de Documentación, 1972), Sondeos N o . 87, p. 3/21. A different interpretation of the messianic movements w i l l be found i n René Ribeiro, " B r a z i l i a n M e s s i a n i c Movements," i n M i l l e n n i a l D r e a m s i n A c t i o n : E s s a y s i n C o m p a r a t i v e S t u d i e s , ed. Sylvia L. Thrupp, Comparative Studies i n Society and H i s t o r y , Supplement II (The Hague: M o u t o n , 1962), pp. 5 5 - 6 9 . R a l p h D e l l a C a v a carries the interpretations of Pereira de Queiroz one step

NOTES TO PAGES 6 5 - 6 8

137

further: " T h e purpose of t h i s paper is to demonstrate that the popular religious movements at Canudos and Joaseiro were f r o m the outset not isolated from, but rather were i n t i m a t e l y tied i n t o the n a t i o n a l ecclesiastical and p o l i t i c a l power structures of i m p e r i a l and republican Brazil; and that they were also enmeshed w i t h i n a changing n a t i o n w i d e e c o n o m y " ("Brazilian M e s s i a n i s m and N a t i o n a l Institutions: A Reappraisal of Canudos and Joaseiro," H i s p a n i c A m e r i c a n H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , 48, no. 3 [August 1968]: 404). A s u m m a r y and a useful analysis of the messianic movements i n B r a z i l w i l l be f o u n d i n M a r i a Isaura Pereira de Queiroz, " M e s s i a h s i n B r a z i l , " P a s t a n d P r e s e n t , no. 31 (July 1965): 6 2 - 8 6 . 123. 124. 125.

126. 127. 128. 129.

130. 131. 132. 133. 134.

135.

Pereira de Queiroz, I m a g e s m e s s i a n i q u e s , p. 2/5. Shepard F o r m a n , T h e B r a z i l i a n P e a s a n t r y (New Y o r k : C o l u m b i a U n i versity Press, 1975), pp. 2 3 7 - 2 4 0 . Sue A n d e r s o n Gross suggests the c o m p l e x i t y of m o t i v a t i o n of Braz i l i a n bandits i n "Religious Sectarianism i n the Sertão of Northeast Brazil, 1815-1866," J o u r n a l of I n t e r - A m e r i c a n S t u d i e s , 10, no. 3 (July 1968): 372; w h i l e M a r i a Isaura Pereira de Q u e i r o z summarizes the a c t i v i t y of bandits i n nineteenth-century Brazil i n O s C a n g a c e i r o s : L e s B a n d i t s d ' h o n n e u r brésiliens, C o l l e c t i o n A r c h i v e s N o . 34 (Paris: j u l l i a r d , 1968), pp. 5 2 - 7 2 . For M e x i c o , John M . H a r t suggests a l i n k between banditry and agrarian revolutionaries: "Predictably, areas that previously produced social b a n d i t r y — C h a l c o , Río Frío, eastern M o r e l o s , and northwestern P u e b l a — n o w produced heavily agrarian revolutionaries" [ A n a r c h i s m a n d t h e M e x i c a n W o r k i n g C l a s s , p. 62). Pereira de Queiroz, O s C a n g a c e i r o s , p. 196; E r i c J. H o b s b a w m , B a n d i t s ( N e w Y o r k : D e l l , 1969), p. 13. M a n o e l C a l v a l c a n t i Proenca, ed., L i t e r a t u r a p o p u l a r e m v e r s o (Rio de Janeiro: Casa de R u i Barbosa, 1964), i : 3 2 2 - 3 4 3 . P i e l , " T h e Place of the Peasantry," p. 130. Enrique López Albujar, L o s c a b a l l e r o s d e l d e l i t o : E s t u d i o criminológ i c o d e l b a n d o l e r i s m o e n a l g u n o s d e p a r t a m e n t o s d e l P e r u (Lima: Compañía de Impresiones y P u b l i c i d a d , 1936), p. 40. Ibid., p. 184. Ignacio M a n u e l A l t a m i r a n o , E l Z a r c o , t h e B a n d i t (London: F o l i o Society, 1957), pp. 103-104. Ibid., p. 58. D . Bouquet y Soler, "Recuerdos de Copan-Calé," E l N o t i c i o s o (Guatem a l a C i t y ) , A u g u s t 1 and 18, September 2, 6, and 23, 1862. However, M a r i a Isaura Pereira de Q u e i r o z has drawn some c o n v i n c i n g conclusions f r o m her m a n y studies of messianic m o v e m e n t s i n B r a z i l . See her " M e s s i a h s i n B r a z i l , " pp. 6 2 - 8 6 . Information i n the f o l l o w i n g paragraphs is based o n the current revis i o n of nineteenth-century Paraguayan history. I a m particularly i n debted to: R i c h a r d A l a n W h i t e , P a r a g u a y ' s A u t o n o m o u s R e v o l u t i o n , 1 8 1 0 - 1 8 4 0 (Albuquerque: U n i v e r s i t y of N e w M e x i c o Press, 1978);

138

NOTES TO PAGES 7 I - 7 4 León Pomer, L a g u e r r a d e l P a r a g u a y : G r a n negócio (Buenos A i r e s : Ediciones Caldén, 1968); A t i l i o G a r c i a M e l l i d , P r o c e s o a l o s f a l s i f i c a d o r e s d e l a h i s t o r i a d e l P a r a g u a y (Buenos A i r e s : Ediciones T h e o r i a , vol. I, 1963; v o l . 2, 1964); Carlos Pastore, L a l u c h a p o r l a t i e r r a e n e l P a r a g u a y (Montevideo: Editorial Antequera, 1972); Teresa Zárate, "Parcelación y distribución de las tierras fiscales en el Paraguay (1870-1904)," R e v i s t a P a r a g u a y a d e Sociología, 10, no. 26 (JanuaryA p r i l 1973): 121-140; John H o y t W i l l i a m s , "Paraguay's 19th C e n t u r y Estancias de l a República," A g r i c u l t u r a l H i s t o r y , 47, no. 3 (July 1975): 2 0 6 - 2 1 6 ; John H o y t W i l l i a m s , "Foreign Técnicos and the M o d e r n i z a t i o n of Paraguay, 1840-1870," J o u r n a l of I n t e r a m e r i c a n S t u d i e s a n d W o r l d Affairs, 19, no. 2 ( M a y 1977): 2 3 3 - 2 5 7 ; T h o m a s L y l e W i l l i a m s , " T h e Iron Works of Ibycui: Paraguayan Industrial Developm e n t i n the M i d - N i n e t e e n t h C e n t u r y , " T h e A m e r i c a s , 35, no. 2 (October 1978): 2 0 1 - 2 1 8 .

136.

R o b i n W. W i n k s , " O n D e c o l o n i z a t i o n and Informal E m p i r e , " A m e r i c a n H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , 81, no. 3 (June 1976): 543. 137. Cortés Conde, T h e F i r s t S t a g e s of M o d e r n i z a t i o n i n S p a n i s h A m e r i c a , pp. 66ff. 138. Hernández, " M o d e r n i z a t i o n and Dependency i n C o s t a R i c a . " 139. A l t h o u g h most studies credit L a t i n A m e r i c a w i t h e c o n o m i c growth i n the nineteenth century, there is evidence that such growth was sporadic rather than consistent. Eric R. Wolf points to d e c l i n i n g absolute and per capita agricultural p r o d u c t i o n i n M e x i c o d u r i n g the last quarter of the century, w h i l e prices rose and wages remained constant ( P e a s a n t Wars of t h e T w e n t i e t h C e n t u r y [ N e w Y o r k : Harper & Row, 1969] p. 19). W i l l i a m P a u l M c G r e e v e y indicates a "reversal i n the s l o w growth of C o l o m b i a ' s e c o n o m y " i n A n E c o n o m i c H i s t o r y of Colombia, 1845-1930 (Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1971), p. 146. N a t h a n i e l H . Leff has questioned the c o n c l u s i o n long posited by Celso Furtado and others that Brazil experienced a remarkable economic growth i n the nineteenth century, particularly during the last half. Instead, Leff notes "Brazil's slow aggregate growth during most of the nineteenth century" i n " A Technique for Estimating Income Trends f r o m C u r r e n c y D a t a and an A p p l i c a t i o n to N i n e teenth-Century B r a z i l , " R e v i e w of I n c o m e a n d W e a l t h , ser. 18, no. 4 (December 1972): 365. 140. M o r n e r , R a c e M i x t u r e i n t h e H i s t o r y of L a t i n A m e r i c a , p. 106. Speaking of the nineteenth century, M o r n e r observes, " T h e same age that witnessed the h i g h bourgeoisie's rise and prosperity i n L a t i n A m e r i c a also witnessed deterioration i n the l i v i n g conditions of the w o r k i n g masses, m o s t of t h e m people of darker s k i n . " 141. Charles C . C u m b e r l a n d , M e x i c o : T h e S t r u g g l e f o r M o d e r n i t y ( N e w Y o r k : Oxford U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1968), p. 204. 142. Ibid., p. 232. 143. Meyer, P r o b l e m a s c a m p e s i n o s , pp. 2 2 2 - 2 2 3 .

NOTES TO PAGE 74 144.

145.

139

P o w e l l , " M e x i c a n Intellectuals and the Indian Q u e s t i o n , " p. 19. "It is c o m m o n knowledge a m o n g students of M e x i c a n h i s t o r y , " says Powell, "that d u r i n g the era of Porfirio D í a z (1876-1911) the m i s e r y of the nation's large Indian p o p u l a t i o n increased substantially." Friedr i c h K a t z states that " O f the m a n y profound transformations w h i c h took place i n the M e x i c a n countryside i n the period between 1876 and 1910, two have been emphasized: the expropriation of the lands of c o m m u n a l villages, and the decrease i n real wages paid to laborers on haciendas. B y the end of the Porfiriato over 96 percent of the c o m m u n a l villages had lost their lands, according to available data. T h e b u y i n g power of wages paid to agricultural laborers o n haciendas sharply declined between 1876 and 1910" ("Labor C o n d i t i o n s o n H a ciendas i n Porfirian M e x i c o : Some Trends and Tendencies," H i s p a n i c A m e r i c a n H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , 54, no. 1 [February 1974]: 1).

Wolf, P e a s a n t W a r s , pp. 1 9 - 2 0 . Wolf points out that, "despite the growth of the l a t i f u n d i u m , agricultural p r o d u c t i o n as a w h o l e d i d not grow steadily and consistently. F r o m 1877 to 1894, i n fact, agricultural p r o d u c t i o n declined at an a n n u a l rate of 0.81 percent. F r o m 1894 to 1907, i t rose once more, but o n l y at a s l o w a n n u a l rate of 2.59 percent. T h e u p w a r d trend was due i n major part to the g r o w t h of i n dustrial crops for c o n s u m p t i o n w i t h i n the c o u n t r y and even more to the growth of export crops. . . . But food crops declined steadily. T h i s was especially true of the p r o d u c t i o n of maize, the staple food of the population. Per capita p r o d u c t i o n of m a i z e declined f r o m 282 k i l o grams i n 1877 to 154 i n 1894, to 144 i n 1907. S i m i l a r declines are noted for beans and chile, s i m i l a r l y v i t a l food crops. N o t o n l y d i d the a m o u n t of m a i z e produced per capita decline, but c o r n prices rose, w h i l e wages remained stationary. A l l i n d i c a t i o n s are that the average daily wage had not increased between the beginning of the n i n e t e e n t h century and 1908." R o d n e y D . A n d e r s o n , O u t c a s t s i n T h e i r O w n L a n d : M e x i c a n I n d u s t r i a l W o r k e r s , 1 9 0 6 - 1 9 1 1 (DeKalb, 111.: N o r t h ern I l l i n o i s U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1976), p. 63, points out the "spectacular" rise of food prices at the t u r n of the century i n M e x i c o . H e provides some g r i m examples: " I n the Federal D i s t r i c t the price of f r i j o l e s (beans) rose f r o m 2.95 pesos a k i l o i n 1899 to 10.89 pesos i n 1908. M o r e i m p o r t a n t l y for the workers' budget, c o r n rose f r o m 2.19 pesos per k i l o i n 1887 to 6.40 i n 1908. F r o m 1900 to 1908 the wholesale price of c o r n rose as follows: M e x i c o (the state), 30 percent; Puebla, 45 percent; Jalisco, 56 percent; Veracruz, 65 percent. C o r n was the m o s t i m p o r t a n t single expense for most M e x i c a n s , save perhaps rent, and its increasing price was a disaster." 146. C u m b e r l a n d , M e x i c o , p. 204. Meyer, P r o b l e m a s c a m p e s i n o s , p. 33, also contends that the rural workers were worse off at the end of the nineteenth century than they h a d been at the beginning. 147. A l d o Ferrer, T h e A r g e n t i n e E c o n o m y : A n E c o n o m i c H i s t o r y of A r g e n t i n a (Berkeley and Los Angeles: U n i v e r s i t y of C a l i f o r n i a Press,

140

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74-75

1967), p. 117. D i s c u s s i n g the decades 1860-1930, Ferrer concludes that, for the Argentine workers, " R u r a l wages went up less than the depreciation of the currency and the rise i n agricultural and livestock prices, so that profit margins of rural entrepreneurs increased w h i l e the share of agricultural workers i n the i n c o m e of this sector dec l i n e d . " C a r l Solberg points out that w h o l e regions and social classes were excluded f r o m the export b o o m of the last half of the nineteenth century. H e m a i n t a i n s that " T h e vast b u l k of f a r m workers received wages that were totally insufficient to m a i n t a i n a decent year-round standard of l i v i n g . D u r i n g the late nineteenth century, real wages of rural workers declined seriously, as the classic w o r k of economist John H . W i l l i a m s demonstrates" ("Farm Workers and the M y t h of Export-Led Development i n A r g e n t i n a , " T h e A m e r i c a s , 31, no. 2 [October 1974]: 12 1ff., 134). 148. Ibid., p. 138. 149. For specific i n f o r m a t i o n o n the deteriorating c o n d i t i o n of rural workers i n Tucumán, i n c l u d i n g the quotations f r o m L a Razón, consult M a n u e l G a r c i a Soriano, " L a condición social del trabajador en T u c u mán durante el Siglo X I X , " Revisión Histórica (Tucumán), 1, no. 1 (May 1960): 7 - 4 6 . 150. M c C r e e r y , "Coffee and C l a s s , " pp. 4 5 6 - 4 5 8 . 151. A r n o l d J. Bauer, " C h i l e a n R u r a l Labor i n the N i n e t e e n t h C e n t u r y , " A m e r i c a n H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , 76, no. 4 (October 1971): 1074, 1076, 1083. 152. A r n o l d J. Bauer, C h i l e a n R u r a l S o c i e t y f r o m t h e S p a n i s h C o n q u e s t t o 1 9 3 0 (Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1975), pp. 1 5 9 160. Prior to 1890, Bauer finds that real wages stayed constant, except that they m a y have declined slightly toward 1890. 153.

154.

155. 156. 157. 158.

N a t h a n i e l H . Leff, " T r o p i c a l Trade and Development i n the N i n e teenth C e n t u r y : T h e B r a z i l i a n Experience," J o u r n a l of P o l i t i c a l E c o n o m y , 81, no. 3 ( M a y - J u n e 1973): 691. See also Leff, " A Technique for E s t i m a t i n g Income Trends f r o m C u r r e n c y D a t a and an A p p l i c a t i o n to N i n e t e e n t h C e n t u r y B r a z i l , " pp. 361, 362. Peter L. Eisenberg, T h e S u g a r I n d u s t r y i n P e r n a m b u c o , 1 8 4 0 - 1 9 1 0 : M o d e r n i z a t i o n w i t h o u t C h a n g e (Berkeley and Los Angeles: U n i v e r sity of C a l i f o r n i a Press, 1974), pp. 60, 219. Eisenberg notes that " A t the same t i m e basic food prices of m a n i o c flour, beans, and jerked beef rose, w i t h the result that real i n c o m e fell even faster than wages" (p. 231). Celso Furtado concurs that per capita i n c o m e declined i n the Northeast. See T h e E c o n o m i c G r o w t h of B r a z i l : A S u r v e y f r o m C o l o n i a l t o M o d e m T i m e s (Berkeley and Los Angeles: U n i v e r s i t y of C a l i fornia Press, 1963), p. 158. Eisenberg, S u g a r I n d u s t r y i n P e r n a m b u c o , p. 214. M c G r e e v e y , E c o n o m i c H i s t o r y of C o l o m b i a , p. 145. Ibid., p. 180. C u m b e r l a n d , M e x i c o , p. 224.

NOTES TO PAGES 7 5 - 7 9 159. 160. 161. 162.

163.

141

James R. Scobie, B u e n o s A i r e s : P l a z a t o S u b u r b ( 1 8 7 0 - 1 9 1 0 ) ( N e w Y o r k : Oxford U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1974), pp. 137-140, 266, 268. Ibid., pp. 140-141. Ferrer, T h e A r g e n t i n e E c o n o m y , p. 118. Eulália M . L. Lobo, " E v o l u t i o n des p r i x et d u coût de l a v i e à R i o de Janeiro (1820-1930)," i n L ' H i s t o i r e q u a n t i t a t i f d u Brésil d e 1 8 0 0 à 1 9 3 0 , Colloques Internationaux d u Centre N a c i o n a l de l a Recherche Scientifique, N o . 543 (Paris: Centre N a c i o n a l de l a Recherche Scientifique, 1971), pp. 211-212. For a s i m i l a r discussion of the d e c l i n i n g real wages of urban workers see Lobo, História d o R i o d e J a n e i r o ( D o capital comercial a ocapital industrial e financeiro) (Rio de Janeiro: I B M E C , 1978), 1: 232ff. G e n e r a l i z i n g about the growing B r a z i l i a n cities of the nineteenth century, G i l b e r t o Freyre speaks of "more poverty, more suffering" ( T h e M a n s i o n s a n d t h e S h a n t i e s : T h e M a k i n g of M o d e r n B r a z i l [ N e w Y o r k : Knopf, 1963], p. 24). R i c h a r d M . M o r s e offers for consideration the suggestion that export-oriented and dependent economies negatively shaped nineteenth-century urbaniz a t i o n i n L a t i n A m e r i c a ("Export-Led G r o w t h and U r b a n Change i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , " A n n a l s of t h e S o u t h e a s t e r n C o n f e r e n c e o n L a t i n A m e r i c a n S t u d i e s , 5 [ M a r c h 1974]: 56-65). Rodney D . Anderson's study of M e x i c a n i n d u s t r i a l labor provides an excellent example. H e indicates that M e x i c a n workers spent over 60 percent of their earnings o n food and another 17 percent o n rent. T h e i r diet was probably insufficient. Prices d u r i n g the last decade of the century rose, w h i l e salaries stagnated: " T h e o v e r w h e l m i n g c o n c l u s i o n is that the wages of most i n d u s t r i a l workers i n M e x i c o were barely sufficient to meet their m i n i m u m needs. T h i s was especially true after 1900, and perhaps before. In the textile t o w n of O r i z a b a one w r i t e r for a l o c a l newspaper noted i n 1893 that as factories were established i n the t o w n , m i s e r y accompanied t h e m . T h e r e is poverty, great poverty, and the struggle for l i v i n g is b e c o m i n g increasingly d i f f i c u l t . . . and today life i n O r i z a b a is p a i n f u l (but not so for those w h o have capital). In a d d i t i o n to this, the cost of l i v i n g increases daily, and labor is compensated disgracefully'" ( O u t c a s t s i n T h e i r O w n L a n d , pp. 63-66).

Workers and Soldiers: U r b a n Labor M o v e m e n t s and E l i t e Responses i n T w e n t i e t h - C e n t u r y L a t i n A m e r i c a 1.

M a n y of the ideas for this paper arose out of a seminar o n twentiethcentury L a t i n A m e r i c a n labor movements w h i c h I have offered at the U n i v e r s i t y of W i s c o n s i n i n recent years. I a m grateful to the students i n those seminars, and especially to Peter DeShazo, w h o helped p l a n one seminar and w h o was generous w i t h h i s knowledge of the Argentine and C h i l e a n cases. I a m indebted also to Eugene Sofer, Rolando

142

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-8o

Mellafe, John Coatsworth, S i m o n C o l l i e r , and A l a n A n g e l i for very helpful comments, and to R i c h a r d G r a h a m for his c o m m e n t a r y o n the version of this paper presented as part of the B. K. S m i t h Lectures at the U n i v e r s i t y of St. T h o m a s i n 1978. I received m a n y valuable comments o n a subsequent draft f r o m fellow participants i n a Workshop o n U r b a n W o r k i n g Class C u l t u r e and Social Protest i n L a t i n A m e r i c a at the L a t i n A m e r i c a n Program of the Woodrow W i l s o n International Center for Scholars (Washington, D.C.) i n late 1978. I a m grateful to L o u G o o d m a n , D a v i d Montgomery, H e n r y Landsberger, Gianfranco Pasquino, and especially R u t h C o l l i e r and J. Samuel Valenzuela. Hobart Spalding, Kenneth E r i c k s o n , Paulo Sergio P i n heiro, S o l o m o n Levine, and R i c h a r d U . M i l l e r offered valuable b i b l i o graphical help. T h e final product is, alas, m y responsibility. It is a pleasure to acknowledge the w a r m hospitality of Professors A n n Q. T i l l e r and V i r g i n i a Bernhard of the Department of H i s t o r y , as w e l l as other officials of the U n i v e r s i t y of St. Thomas, o n the occasion of the delivery of the original version of this paper. F i n a n c i a l support has come f r o m the Graduate School Research C o m m i t t e e and the C y r i l N a v e Fund, both at the U n i v e r s i t y of W i s c o n s i n . 2.

3.

4.

5.

T h i s point is acknowledged i n A d o l f Sturmthal, C o m p a r a t i v e L a b o r M o v e m e n t s : I d e o l o g i c a l R o o t s a n d I n s t i t u t i o n a l D e v e l o p m e n t (Belmont, Calif.: Wadsworth, 1972). Bruce H . M i l l e n , T h e P o l i t i c a l R o l e of L a b o r i n D e v e l o p i n g C o u n t r i e s (Washington, D . C . : Brookings Institution, 1963); Sidney Sufrin, U n i o n s i n E m e r g i n g S o c i e t i e s (Syracuse, N . Y . : Syracuse U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1964); C l a r k Kerr, John T. D u n l o p , Frederick H a r b i s o n , and Charles Myers, I n d u s t r i a l i s m a n d I n d u s t r i a l M a n (Cambridge, M a s s . : Harvard U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1960); Walter Galenson, ed., L a b o r a n d E c o n o m i c D e v e l o p m e n t (New York: John Wiley, 1959). M o r e sensitivity to the L a t i n A m e r i c a n experience is s h o w n i n Everett M . Kassalow, " U n i o n s i n N e w and Developing Countries," i n N a t i o n a l L a b o r M o v e m e n t s i n t h e P o s t w a r W o r l d , ed. Kassalow (Evanston, 111.: N o r t h w e s t e r n U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1963), pp. 2 2 5 - 2 5 3 . See, for example, C l i n t o n Bourdon, "Craft U n i o n s and the Organizat i o n of W o r k i n C o n s t r u c t i o n , " E u r o p e a n S t u d i e s N e w s l e t t e r (Council for European Studies, C o l u m b i a University), 7, no. 2 (November/ December 1977): i - i i ; 7, no. 3 (February 1978): 1-5. For a very useful synthesis and historiographical overview on u n i o n i z a t i o n i n B r i t a i n f r o m the late V i c t o r i a n era to 1933, see John L o v e l l , B r i t i s h T r a d e U n i o n s , 1 8 7 5 - 1 9 3 3 (London: M a c m i l l a n , 1977). T h e most influential single w o r k i n this direction has been E. P. T h o m p s o n , T h e M a k i n g of t h e E n g l i s h W o r k i n g C l a s s ( N e w Y o r k : A l f r e d A . Knopf, 1963). A leading example of the n e w approach i n the U.S. and one w h i c h also discusses historiographical trends, is Herbert G. G u t m a n , "Work, C u l t u r e , and Society i n Industrializing A m e r i c a ,

NOTES TO PAGES

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

80-81

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1815-1919," A m e r i c a n H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , 78, no. 3 (June 1973): 531-588. Important questions about the frequent resort to s u c h concepts as " m o d e r n i z a t i o n " and " t r a d i t i o n " have been raised by D a n i e l T. R o d gers, " T r a d i t i o n , M o d e r n i t y , and the A m e r i c a n Industrial Worker: Reflections and C r i t i q u e , " J o u r n a l of I n t e r d i s c i p l i n a r y H i s t o r y , 7, no. 4 (Spring 1977): 6 5 5 - 6 8 1 . For an example of a relatively u n c r i t i c a l application of the " m o d e r n i z a t i o n " m o d e l to L a t i n A m e r i c a , see W i l bert Moore, I n d u s t r i a l i z a t i o n a n d L a b o r (Ithaca, 1951), w h i c h i n cludes a case study of M e x i c o . T h i s point is discussed cogently i n Eugene F. Sofer, "Recent Trends i n L a t i n A m e r i c a n Labor Historiography: A R e v i e w Essay," f o r t h c o m i n g i n the L a t i n A m e r i c a n R e s e a r c h R e v i e w . G i v e n the difficulty of keeping straight the ideological orientation of leaders and movements d u r i n g this era i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , it is reassuring to hear f r o m a specialist o n Europe that "anyone w h o has tried to w r i t e about a n a r c h i s m sometimes comes to a p o i n t at w h i c h he wonders just what i t is he is w r i t i n g about." T h e observation is f r o m James Joll's review of Jean M a i t r o n ' s two-volume h i s t o r y of French a n a r c h i s m i n the T i m e s L i t e r a r y S u p p l e m e n t , September 10, 1976. Joll suggests that even M a i t r o n , " w h o has devoted a l i f e t i m e to the subject, seems to have had m u c h the same experience." For a passionate defense of the post-Stalinist attempt by c o n t i n e n t a l scholars to rediscover the f u l l range of labor history, especially i n its i n t e r n a t i o n a l d i m e n s i o n , see Georges Haupt, " W h y the H i s t o r y of the W o r k i n g - C l a s s M o v e m e n t ? " R e v i e w , 2 , no. 1 (Summer 1978): 5 - 2 4 . For a comprehensive survey of this i m p o r t a n t question, see G l e n G . C a i n , " T h e Challenge of Segmented Labor M a r k e t Theories to O r t h o dox T h e o r y , " J o u r n a l of E c o n o m i c L i t e r a t u r e (December 1976): 1 2 1 5 1257. For an example, see Subbiah Kannappan, ed., S t u d i e s of U r b a n L a b o u r M a r k e t B e h a v i o r i n D e v e l o p i n g A r e a s (Geneva: Institute for Internat i o n a l Labour Studies, 1977), w h i c h includes an excellent bibliography. For a wide-ranging discussion of the v a r y i n g circumstances surr o u n d i n g the emergence of labor markets, see Bert F. H o s e l i t z , " T h e D e v e l o p m e n t of a Labor M a r k e t i n the Process of E c o n o m i c G r o w t h , " i n T h e I n t e r n a t i o n a l L a b o r M o v e m e n t i n T r a n s i t i o n , ed. A d o l f S t u r m t h a i and James G . Scoville (Urbana: U n i v e r s i t y of I l l i n o i s Press, 1973), PP- 34-57Alexander conducted h i s doctoral dissertation research i n C h i l e i n 1946-1947, and i n succeeding years he traveled w i d e l y i n L a t i n A m e r ica, i n t e r v i e w i n g m a n y of the leading figures i n labor u n i o n s and leftw i n g p o l i t i c a l movements. H e drew o n these first-hand sources i n h i s m a n y publications. Alexander was always forthright about his ideological assumptions, as i n the final chapter of C o m m u n i s m i n L a t i n

144

13.

14.

15.

16.

NOTES TO PAGE 82 A m e r i c a ( N e w B r u n s w i c k , N . J . : Rutgers U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1957), w h i c h was entitled " T h e Right and the W r o n g Way to Fight C o m m u nism i n Latin America." T h e most valuable recent overview of L a t i n A m e r i c a n labor h i s t o r y is Hobart A . Spalding, Jr., O r g a n i z e d L a b o r i n L a t i n A m e r i c a : H i s t o r i c a l C a s e S t u d i e s of U r b a n W o r k e r s i n D e p e n d e n t S o c i e t i e s (New Y o r k : Harper & Row, 1977). Spalding's synthesis offers an excellent point of departure for further research, and his footnotes provide an up-to-date bibliography of the field. Partly for that reason I shall not attempt any extensive review of the historiography of the country cases. For a n important earlier inventory of interpretations and sources, see K e n neth P a u l E r i c k s o n , Patrick V. Peppe, and Hobart Spalding, Jr., "Research o n the U r b a n W o r k i n g Class and Organized Labor i n Argentina, Brazil, and C h i l e : What is Left to be D o n e ? " L a t i n A m e r i c a n R e s e a r c h R e v i e w , 9, no. 2 (Summer 1974): 115-142. For further examples of recently suggested interpretive schema, see note 3 5 below. T w o papers f r o m the Pátzcuaro conference are especially relevant for the study of organized u n i o n labor: Barry Carr, " T h e Casa del Obrero M u n d i a l , C o n s t i t u t i o n a l i s m and the Pact of February 1915," and A u r e l i o de los Reyes, "Historiografía," the latter being an overview of the p r i n c i p a l h i s t o r i c a l interpretations; some of de los Reyes's c r i t i c a l evaluations seem exaggerated. Labor i n M e x i c o has been a subject of m u c h recently published research, to w h i c h Chapter 3 of Spalding, O r g a n i z e d L a b o r i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , is a ready guide. A m o n g the m o s t significant recent titles are Rodney D . Anderson, O u t c a s t s i n T h e i r O w n L a n d : M e x i c a n I n d u s t r i a l W o r k e r s , 1906-1911 (DeKalb: N o r t h ern I l l i n o i s Press, 1976); Rámon Eduardo R u i z , L a b o r a n d t h e A m b i v a l e n t R e v o l u t i o n a r i e s : M e x i c o , 1 9 1 1 - 1 9 2 3 (Baltimore: Johns H o p k i n s U n i v e r s i t y Press; Barry Carr, E l m o v i m i e n t o o b r e r o y l a política e n México, 1 9 1 0 - 1 9 2 9 , 2 vols. (Mexico C i t y , 1976); José L u i s Reyna et al., T r e s e s t u d i o s s o b r e e l m o v i m i e n t o o b r e r o e n México (Mexico C i t y , 1976); and L a formación d e l p r o l e t a r i a d o i n d u s t r i a l e n México, w h i c h occupies a l l of R e v i s t a M e x i c a n a d e C i e n c i a s Políticas y S o c i a l e s , n.s. 21, no. 83 ( J a n u a r y - M a r c h 1976). A c o l l o q u i u m o n " S i n d i c a l i s m o en América L a t i n a , " sponsored by C L A C S O , was h e l d i n Buenos A i r e s i n 1972, and the papers were published i n T e m a s d e economía l a b o r a l : m o v i m i e n t o o b r e r o , s i n d i c a t o s y p o d e r e n América L a t i n a (Buenos A i r e s : Editorial E l C o l o q u i o , 1974) (organized by the Centro de Estudios e Investigaciones Laborales [CEIL] de l a Facultad de Ciencias Económicas de l a U n i v e r s i d a d N a c i o n a l de l a Plata). T h e C L A C S O group has had a n u m b e r of subsequent meetings and seminars and is preparing further publications. T h e trend can be noted, for example, i n the research grants awarded at both the doctoral dissertation and postdoctoral level by the S S R C -

NOTES TO PAGES 82-83

17. 18.

19.

20.

21.

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A C L S Joint C o m m i t t e e o n L a t i n A m e r i c a n Studies: Social Science Research C o u n c i l , A n n u a l R e p o r t : 1 9 7 5 - 7 6 ; A n n u a l R e p o r t : 1 9 7 6 77 ( N e w York). A representative issue i s v o l . 3, no. 1 (Winter 1976), entitled I m p e r i a l i s m and the Working Class i n L a t i n America. Further proof of this interest is the p u b l i c a t i o n i n E n g l i s h of a n edited version of G u i l l e r m o Lora's first-hand analysis of B o l i v i a : A H i s t o r y of t h e B o l i v i a n L a b o u r M o v e m e n t (Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge U n i versity Press, 1977). T h e condensation of Lora's several v o l u m e s is by Laurence Whitehead, and the translation is by C h r i s t i n e Whitehead. A n obvious exception is the group of French scholars associated w i t h S o c i o l o g i e d u T r a v a i l , w h i c h has published a n u m b e r of articles o n L a t i n A m e r i c a n labor movements, especially i n Brazil. See, for example, A l a i n T o u r a i n e and D a n i e l Pécaut, " C o n s c i e n c e ouvrière et développement économique en Amérique L a t i n e : Propositions pour une recherche," S o c i o l o g i e d u T r a v a i l , 9, no. 3 (July-September 1967): 2 2 9 - 2 5 4 . Scholarship i n the U.S.S.R. and Eastern Europe has also produced studies of L a t i n A m e r i c a n labor m o v e m e n t s and w o r k i n g class history, but they have received l i t t l e notice i n the West, i n part because of l a c k of knowledge of Slavic languages among Western L a t i n A m e r i c a n i s t s , i n part because of the heavy-handed and dogm a t i c approach so often t y p i c a l of h i s t o r i c a l scholarship i n those countries, and i n part because they offer no research originality, since the authors can almost never, for obvious reasons, gain access to p r i m a r y sources. For an analysis of one labor-related theme i n Soviet w r i t i n g s o n L a t i n A m e r i c a n h i s t o r y i n the years between 1957 and 1964, see Edward B. Richards, " M a r x i s m and M a r x i s t M o v e m e n t s i n L a t i n A m e r i c a i n Recent Soviet H i s t o r i c a l W r i t i n g , " H i s p a n i c A m e r i c a n H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , 44, no. 4 (November 1965): 577-590. For a recent study of events i n Europe, see A l b e r t S. L i n d e m a n n , T h e "Red Years": European Socialism versus Bolshevism, 1919-1921 (Berkeley: U n i v e r s i t y of C a l i f o r n i a Press, 1974), w h i c h focuses o n the socialist parties i n France, Italy, and G e r m a n y . Recent studies of A n a r c h i s m and S y n d i c a l i s m i n Europe i n c l u d e Jean M a i t r o n , L e M o u v e m e n t a n a r c h i s t e e n F r a n c e , 2 vols. (Paris: F. Maspero, 1975), and Bob H o l t o n , B r i t i s h S y n d i c a l i s m , 1 9 0 0 - 1 9 1 4 : M y t h s a n d R e a l i t i e s (London: P l u t o Press, 1976). A t y p i c a l example is Hernán R a m i r e z Necochea, O r i g e n y formación d e l P a r t i d o C o m m u n i s t a d e C h i l e (Santiago: Talleros Gráficos Santaro, 1965), w h o begins h i s discussion of A n a r c h i s m (p. 20) thus: " L o s anarquistas, por lo general i n d i v i d u o s de extraccion artesanal o pequeñoburguesa, c o n su prédica l l e n a de attractivos conceptos revolucionarios, fijaban falsos objectivos y erróneos métodos a las luchas proletarias." T h e m o s t reliable survey of the h i s t o r y of L a t i n A m e r i c a n C o m m u n i s t Parties is Boris Goldenberg, K o m m u n i s m u s i n

146

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23.

24.

NOTES TO PAGE 84 L a t e i n a m e r i k a (Stuttgart: Verlag W . K o h l h a m m e r , 1971), w h i c h i n cludes chapters on a l l the major countries. Representative is the treatment i n Jacques Lambert, L a t i n A m e r i c a : S o c i a l S t r u c t u r e a n d P o l i t i c a l I n s t i t u t i o n s (Berkeley: U n i v e r s i t y of C a l i f o r n i a Press, 1967), pp. 190-199 In order to document h i s c l a i m that p o l i t i c i z i n g of u n i o n s has jeopardized bread-and-butter gains, Lambert is forced to give a misleading capsule account of A r g e n t i n a i n the last half of the 1950s. A m u c h more careful examinat i o n of " p o l i t i c a l " versus " e c o n o m i c " orientation of labor is given i n H e n r y A . Landsberger, " T h e Labor Elite: Is It R e v o l u t i o n a r y ? " i n E l i t e s i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , ed. Seymour M a r t i n Lipset and A l d o Solari ( N e w Y o r k : Oxford U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1967), pp. 2 5 6 - 3 0 0 . Landsberger argues that labor's p o l i t i c a l strength is, more often than not, greater than the strength deriving f r o m its economic base. Landsberger correctly points out that m a n y of the most important decisions affecting labor i n post-1945 L a t i n A m e r i c a have been i n the hands of the government, not the employers; ergo, the logic of workers seeking to put pressure directly o n the government (political action), thereby bypassing the employers (economic action). T h e emphasis o n p o l i t i c i z a t i o n i n L a t i n A m e r i c a n labor relations is given its most extreme f o r m u l a t i o n i n James L. Payne, L a b o r a n d P o l i t i c s i n P e r u : T h e S y s t e m of P o l i t i c a l B a r g a i n i n g ( N e w H a v e n : Y a l e U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1965 ). A n extensive and enlightening discussion of the relationships a m o n g u n i o n members, u n i o n leaders, and p o l i t i c a l parties i n C h i l e occupies a large part of A l a n A n g e l l ' s P o l i t i c s a n d t h e L a b o u r M o v e m e n t i n C h i l e (Oxford: Oxford U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1972). It s h o u l d be noted that leaders and groups w h i c h sought to f o l l o w a more radical " p o l i t i c a l " l i n e have been repeatedly driven out of the major U . S . labor unions. T h e massive struggle by the C I O after 1945 to capture control of the electrical workers f r o m the d o m i n a n t leadership (which i n c l u d e d C o m m u n i s t s ) was a notable example. R e v i s i o n ist interpretations are n o w challenging the standard versions of U . S . labor history, as i n Jeremy Brecher, S t r i k e ! (San Francisco: Straight A r r o w Press, 1972), w h i c h emphasizes the m i l i t a n c y of ordinary workers; and Stanley A r o n o w i t z , F a l s e P r o m i s e s : T h e S h a p i n g of A m e r i c a n W o r k i n g C l a s s C o n s c i o u s n e s s (New York: M c G r a w - H i l l , 1973), w h i c h investigates " w h y the w o r k i n g class i n A m e r i c a remains a dependent force i n society." It is sobering to recall the conclusions drawn f r o m research o n the relationship i n the history of the i n d u s t r i a l i z e d countries between u n i o n i z a t i o n and real wages or labor's share of the n a t i o n a l i n c o m e . These researchers have not found evidence that u n i o n s made any difference. T h e d y n a m i c factor was growing productivity. See E. H . Phelps B r o w n and Margaret H . Browne, A C e n t u r y of P a y : T h e C o u r s e of P a y a n d P r o d u c t i o n i n F r a n c e , G e r m a n y , S w e d e n , t h e U n i t e d

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147

K i n g d o m , a n d t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s of A m e r i c a , 1 8 6 0 - 1 9 6 0 (London: M a c m i l l a n , 1968) and F. R a y M a r s h a l l , A l l a n M . Cartter, and A l l a n G . K i n g , L a b o r E c o n o m i c s , 3d ed. (Homewood, 111.: Irwin, 1976), p. 385. T h i s is not to say, however, that u n i o n s have not had an effect o n the d i s t r i b u t i o n of i n c o m e w i t h i n labor's share (although there is disagreement o n those effects) or o n nonwage issues. For a brief but suggestive discussion of factors affecting the sectoral a l l o c a t i o n of labor i n L a t i n A m e r i c a n economies, see Joseph R. Ramos, L a b o r a n d D e v e l o p m e n t i n L a t i n A m e r i c a ( N e w Y o r k : Institute of L a t i n A m e r i c a n Studies, C o l u m b i a U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1970), pp. 174-180. 25.

Robert Alexander, a pioneer scholar i n the study of L a t i n A m e r i c a n labor, w o r k e d closely w i t h the Free Trade U n i o n C o m m i t t e e of the A m e r i c a n Federation of Labor, and w i t h Serafino R o m u a l d i (long-time official of the Organización Regional Inter-Americana de Trabajadores [ORIT], the a n t i - C o m m u n i s t and anti-Peronist regional labor confederation strongly supported by the AFL), to w h o m Alexander dedicated his L a b o r R e l a t i o n s i n A r g e n t i n a , B r a z i l , a n d C h i l e ( N e w Y o r k : M c G r a w - H i l l , 1962). U . S . efforts to influence L a t i n A m e r i c a n labor are r o u n d l y attacked i n Spalding, O r g a n i z e d L a b o r i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , Chapter 6. For A r g e n t i n a there is N A C L A ' s L a t i n A m e r i c a a n d E m p i r e R e p o r t , 8, no. 9 (November 1974), entitled A r g e n t i n a : A I F L D L o s i n g I t s G r i p . For a c r i t i c a l v i e w of the U . S . efforts w h e n the A l l i a n c e for Progress was s t i l l young, see Frank B o n i l l a , " T h e U r b a n W o r k e r , " i n C o n t i n u i t y a n d C h a n g e i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , ed. John J. Johnson (Stanford: Stanford U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1964), pp. 2 0 4 - 2 0 5 . A d o l f S t u r m t h a l , one of the b e s t - k n o w n students of comparative labor movements, i n a recent paper refers to A n g l o - A m e r i c a n s as exhibiting, i n the postwar w o r l d , " a naïve belief i n the u n i v e r s a l a p p l i c a b i l i t y of some f o r m of collective bargaining as the fundamental m e t h o d of settling i n d u s t r i a l relations p r o b l e m s . " Y e t the author spends the remainder of h i s paper a n a l y z i n g w h y the collective bargaining m o d e l has not appeared—or appeared o n l y i n m o d i f i e d or scattered f o r m — elsewhere and what forces m i g h t create i t i n the future! (Sturmthal, "Industrial Relations Strategies," i n T h e I n t e r n a t i o n a l L a b o r M o v e m e n t , ed. S t u r m t h a l and Scoville, pp. 1-33.) Spalding's very useful survey seldom discusses Soviet penetration of L a t i n A m e r i c a n labor u n i o n s and the manner i n w h i c h C o m m u n i s t s , especially i n the Stalinist era, had to subordinate their analysis of their countries' e c o n o m i c and p o l i t i c a l s i t u a t i o n to the dictates of M o s c o w .

26.

T h e horror of the 1973 coup i n C h i l e has taken t i m e to s i n k i n a m o n g f o r e i g n — a n d m a n y C h i l e a n — o b s e r v e r s of the C h i l e a n scene. T h a t country had seemed so successful at generating a w i d e consensus o n the rules of the p o l i t i c a l game—Salvador A l l e n d e ' s accession to power was justifiably cited as proof of the m a t u r i t y of the C h i l e a n p o l i t i c a l system and p u b l i c . Unfortunately, the consensus rapidly eroded after

148

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28.

29.

30.

NOTES TO PAGES 8 5 - 8 6 1970. For radical v i e w s of that process, see L a t i n A m e r i c a n P e r s p e c t i v e s , I, no. 2 (Summer 1974), entitled C h i l e : B l o o d o n t h e P e a c e f u l R o a d . A n interpretation f r o m a centrist p o s i t i o n is to be found i n P a u l E. Sigmund, T h e O v e r t h r o w of A l l e n d e a n d t h e P o l i t i c s of C h i l e , 1 9 6 4 - 1 9 7 6 (Pittsburgh: U n i v e r s i t y of Pittsburgh Press, 1977). T h e success w i t h w h i c h P e r o n i s m outlasted a series of m i l i t a r y regimes is yet to be explained i n a systematic manner. A m o n g the useful analyses are D a n i e l James, "Power and P o l i t i c s i n Peronist Trade U n i o n s , " J o u r n a l of I n t e r - A m e r i c a n S t u d i e s a n d W o r l d Affairs, 20, no. 1 (February 1978): 1-36, and the same author's " T h e Peronist Left, 1 9 5 5 - 1 9 7 5 , " J o u r n a l of L a t i n A m e r i c a n S t u d i e s , 8, Part 2 (November 1976): 273-296. Sebastião C. Velasco e C r u z , "Estado, sindicato e instabilidade política: Argentina, 1 9 5 5 - 1970," D a d o s , no. 15 (1977): 4 3 - 5 9 , stresses the extent to w h i c h the Peronist u n i o n s were able to preserve a degree of a u t o n o m y i n this era. T h e recurrent stabilization attempts, and the worker resistance they generated, are analyzed s k i l l f u l l y i n G a r y W . W y n i a , A r g e n t i n a i n t h e P o s t w a r E r a : P o l i t i c s a n d E c o n o m i c P o l i c y M a k i n g i n a D i v i d e d S o c i e t y (Albuquerque: U n i v e r s i t y of N e w M e x i c o Press, forthcoming). T h e most detailed analysis of the 1968 strike m o v e m e n t is Francisco Weffort, "Participação e conflito i n d u s t r i a l : Contagem e Osasco, 1968" Cadernos C E B R A P , 5 (São Paulo, 1972). Some observers argue that i n recent decades organized urban labor i n B r a z i l has greatly increased its consciousness and can be controlled only by extreme coercion f r o m the government. Such is the v i e w i n A n g e l a M e n d e s de A l m e i d a and M i c h a e l L o w y , " U n i o n Structure and Labor Organizat i o n i n the Recent H i s t o r y of B r a z i l , " L a t i n A m e r i c a n P e r s p e c t i v e s , 3, no. 1 (Winter 1976): 98-119, where the labor protest m o v e m e n t of 1967-1968 is given as proof of labor's very organizable discontent. For a first-hand account of the 1968 labor actions, see the i n t e r v i e w w i t h José Ibrahim, a leader of the M e t a l l u r g i c a l Workers i n Osasco, i n V e j a , no. 501 ( A p r i l 12, 1978). A systematic study of the operation of this system i n the greater São Paulo region m a y be found i n K e n n e t h S. M e r i c l e , " C o n f l i c t Regulat i o n i n the B r a z i l i a n Industrial Relations S y s t e m " (Ph.D. dissertation, U n i v e r s i t y of W i s c o n s i n , 1974), partially s u m m a r i z e d i n M e r i c l e , "Corporatist C o n t r o l of the W o r k i n g Class: A u t h o r i t a r i a n B r a z i l since 1964," i n A u t h o r i t a r i a n i s m a n d C o r p o r a t i s m i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , ed. James M . M a l l o y (Pittsburgh: U n i v e r s i t y of Pittsburgh Press, 1977), PP. 3 0 3 - 3 3 9 . O n e of the earliest systematic critiques of the predominant assumptions among U . S . L a t i n A m e r i c a n i s t s was Susanne J. Bodenheimer, T h e I d e o l o g y of D e v e l o p m e n t a l i s m : The American ParadigmSurrogate for L a t i n A m e r i c a n Studies, Sage Professional Papers i n C o m p a r a t i v e P o l i t i c s , v o l . 2 (Beverly H i l l s , Calif.: Sage Publications,

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1971). For an analysis of h o w U . S . L a t i n A m e r i c a n i s t s ' assumptions have shifted i n recent years, see A b r a h a m L o w e n t h a l , " N o r t h A m e r i c a n Perspectives o n C o m p a r a t i v e L a t i n A m e r i c a n Studies and o n Inter-American Relations: Some Informal N o t e s , " i n P e r s p e c t i v e s para o desenvolvimento dos estudos comparativos latino-americanos e relações i n t e r n a c i o n a i s , ed. Bernardo Sorj and M a r i a Regina Soares de L i m a (Rio de Janeiro, forthcoming), w h i c h updates the analysis presented i n L o w e n t h a l ' s " U n i t e d States P o l i c y toward L a t i n A m e r ica: 'Liberal, 'Radical,' and 'Bureaucratic' Perspectives," L a t i n A m e r i c a n R e s e a r c h R e v i e w , 8, no. 3 (Fall 1973): 3 - 2 5 . 31.

32.

33.

34.

35.

T h e details are given i n C o v e r t A c t i o n i n C h i l e , 1 9 6 3 - 7 3 : Staff Rep o r t of t h e S e l e c t C o m m i t t e e t o S t u d y G o v e r n m e n t a l Operations w i t h R e s p e c t t o I n t e l l i g e n c e A c t i v i t i e s , U n i t e d S t a t e s S e n a t e (Washington, D . C . , 1975). For an attempt to paper over the C I A ' s role i n C h i l e , see D a v i d A t l e e P h i l l i p s , T h e N i g h t W a t c h : T w e n t y - F i v e Y e a r s of P e c u l i a r S e r v i c e ( N e w Y o r k : A t h e n e u m , 1977), PP. 2 3 6 - 2 5 5 . H i s denials are u n c o n v i n c i n g . Indicative of this trend was the appearance of M a r x i s t P e r s p e c t i v e s , a n e w quarterly w h i c h made its debut i n early 1978. N a m e s o n the editorial board and among the organizational secretaries indicate w i d e l y distributed support i n the U . S . academic c o m m u n i t y . Issue no. 4 (Winter 1978) of the first v o l u m e includes John W o m a c k , Jr.'s " T h e M e x i c a n E c o n o m y d u r i n g the R e v o l u t i o n , 1910-1920: H i s t o r i o g r a p h y and A n a l y s i s , " i n w h i c h there i s a brief discussion of the literature o n labor for that decade. For a suggestive discussion of the manner i n w h i c h researchers' politi c a l beliefs are related to the growth of interest i n labor history, see E. J. H o b s b a w m , "Labor H i s t o r y and Ideology," J o u r n a l of S o c i a l H i s t o r y , 7, no. 4 (Summer 1974): 3 7 1 - 3 8 1 . T h i s p o i n t is made evident i n Peter F l y n n , "European Perspectives o n European-Latin A m e r i c a n Relations and C o m p a r a t i v e L a t i n A m e r i can Studies," i n P e r s p e c t i v e s p a r a o d e s e n v o l v i m e n t o , ed. Sorj and Soares de L i m a . J. S a m u e l Valenzuela, " A C o n c e p t u a l F r a m e w o r k for the A n a l y s i s of Labor M o v e m e n t D e v e l o p m e n t , " paper prepared for the W o r k s h o p o n U r b a n W o r k i n g Class C u l t u r e and Social Protest i n L a t i n A m e r i c a at the L a t i n A m e r i c a n Program of the W o o d r o w W i l s o n International Center for Scholars (Washington, D.C.), N o v e m b e r 3 0 - D e c e m b e r 1, 1978; R u t h Berins C o l l i e r and D a v i d C o l l i e r , "Inducements versus Constraints: Disaggregating ' C o r p o r a t i s m , ' " f o r t h c o m i n g i n the A m e r i c a n P o l i t i c a l S c i e n c e R e v i e w ; and E l i z a b e t h Jelin, " O r i e n t a c i ones e ideologías obreras en América L a t i n a , " E s t u d i o s S o c i a l e s , no. 3 (Buenos A i r e s : C e n t r o de Estudios de Estado y Sociedad, 1976). For examples of earlier secondary surveys that were unsatisfactory i n part because of the lack of monographic literature, see Robert J. Alexander,

150

36.

37.

38.

39.

NOTES TO PAGES 89-92 O r g a n i z e d L a b o r i n L a t i n A m e r i c a ( N e w Y o r k : Free Press, 1965) and Victor Alba, P o l i t i c s a n d t h e L a b o r M o v e m e n t i n L a t i n A m e r i c a (Stanford: Stanford U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1968). In the latest e d i t i o n of a leading textbook o n labor economics (Marshall, Cartter, and K i n g , L a b o r E c o n o m i c s ) the authors argue vigorously for the use of the comparative m e t h o d and devote five chapters to v a r y i n g patterns of u n i o n i z a t i o n , although i n fact they i n c l u d e l i t t l e e x p l i c i t comparison. A strong appeal for the comparative approach to L a t i n A m e r i c a is made i n John W o m a c k , Jr., " M e x i c a n P o l i t i c a l Historiography, 1 9 5 9 - 6 9 , " i n I n v e s t i g a c i o n e s contemporán e a s s o b r e h i s t o r i a d e M e x i c o : M e m o r i a s d e l a T e r c e r a Reunión d e H i s t o r i a d o r e s M e x i c a n o s y N o r t e a m e r i c a n o s ( M e x i c o C i t y , 1971), p. 486, where W o m a c k laments the c o n t i n u i n g p r o v i n c i a l i s m a m o n g historians specializing i n M e x i c o . H i s c r i t i c i s m applies equally w e l l to specialists o n Argentina, Brazil, and C h i l e . T o o few have attempted well-documented comparative analysis of differing country cases w i t h i n L a t i n A m e r i c a . A n example of h o w effectively this approach can be employed is Elisabeth Jelin, "Spontanéité et organisation dans le m o u v e m e n t ouvrier: Le Cas de l'Argentine, d u Brésil et d u M e x i q u e , " S o c i o l o g i e d u T r a v a i l , 18 (1976): 139-168. I have argued this point for the cases of Argentina, Brazil, and M e x i c o i n " T h e P o l i t i c s of E c o n o m i c Stabilization i n Postwar L a t i n A m e r ica," i n A u t h o r i t a r i a n i s m a n d C o r p o r a t i s m i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , ed. M a l l o y , pp. 149-190. I do not m e a n to suggest that labor protest and elite response can alone explain the pattern and dynamics of authoritarian government i n the L a t i n A m e r i c a of the 1960s and 1970s. Such an explanation requires a broad-ranging analysis of m a n y factors, i n c l u d i n g the relationship between the structure of p o l i t i c a l systems and the character of economic development i n the last several decades. T h e m o s t i n n o vative and i n f l u e n t i a l attempt i n this direction has been by G u i l l e r m o O ' D o n n e l l , whose latest f o r m u l a t i o n is "Reflections o n the Patterns of Change i n the Bureaucratic-Authoritarian State," L a t i n A m e r i c a n R e s e a r c h R e v i e w , 13, no. 1 (1978): 3 - 3 8 . H i s w o r k has been discussed i n D a v i d C o l l i e r , "Industrial M o d e r n i z a t i o n and P o l i t i c a l Change: A L a t i n A m e r i c a n Perspective," W o r l d P o l i t i c s , 30, no. 4 (July 1978): 593-614, and is a n essential p o i n t of reference i n the f o r t h c o m i n g T h e N e w A u t h o r i t a r i a n i s m i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , edited by C o l l i e r (to be published by the U n i v e r s i t y of C a l i f o r n i a Press). M y a i m here is to isolate one factor—the confrontation of government and organized workers — a n d explore its h i s t o r i c a l roots. A painstakingly annotated bibliography o n this period can be found i n Roberto Cortés Conde and Stanley J. Stein, eds., L a t i n A m e r i c a : A G u i d e t o E c o n o m i c H i s t o r y , 1 8 3 0 - 1 9 3 0 (Berkeley: U n i v e r s i t y of C a l i fornia Press, 1977), w h i c h includes chapters on A r g e n t i n a (Tulio H a l -

NOTES TO PAGES 93 — 95

151

perín Donghi), B r a z i l (Nícia V i l l e l a Luz), and C h i l e (Carmen C a r i o l a and Osvaldo Sunkel). For C h i l e , the m o s t complete analysis of this period is to be found i n M a r k o s J. M a m a l a k i s , T h e G r o w t h a n d S t r u c t u r e of t h e C h i l e a n E c o n o m y ( N e w H a v e n : Y a l e U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1976). For Brazil, there is W i l s o n Cano, Raízes d a concentração i n d u s t r i a l e m São P a u l o (São Paulo, 1977). For A r g e n t i n a , the basic w o r k remains Carlos F. D í a z Alejandro, E s s a y s o n t h e E c o n o m i c H i s t o r y of t h e A r g e n t i n e R e p u b l i c ( N e w H a v e n : Y a l e U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1970). Roberto Borges M a r t i n s , i n h i s " C r e s c i m e n t o exportador, desigualdade e diversificação economica: U m a comparação entre o Brasil e a República Argentina, 1 8 6 0 - 1 9 3 0 , " C a d e r n o s d o D e p a r t a m e n t o d e Ciência Política (Faculdade de Filosofia e Ciências H u manas, U n i v e r s i d a d e Federal de M i n a s Gerais), no. 3 ( M a r c h 1976): 55-106, clarifies the i m p o r t a n t differences i n the degree of e c o n o m i c development of the t w o countries over this period, w i t h Argentina's structure a p p r o x i m a t i n g that of the i n d u s t r i a l economies of the N o r t h A t l a n t i c , w h i l e B r a z i l retained a m u c h larger rural subsistence sector. 40.

41.

42. 43.

44.

45.

A useful starting point for comparative analysis of the major S o u t h A m e r i c a n labor relations systems is Alexander, L a b o r R e l a t i o n s i n Argentina, Brazil, a n d Chile. T h e classic statement o n surplus labor i n developing societies was W. A r t h u r L e w i s , " E c o n o m i c D e v e l o p m e n t w i t h U n l i m i t e d Supplies of L a b o u r , " T h e M a n c h e s t e r S c h o o l of E c o n o m i c a n d S o c i a l S t u d i e s , 22, no. 2 ( M a y 1954): 139-191. For a refutation, based o n L a t i n A m e r i c a n data, see R i c h a r d U . M i l l e r , " T h e Relevance of Surplus Labour T h e o r y to the U r b a n Labour M a r k e t s of L a t i n A m e r i c a , " I n t e r n a t i o n a l I n s t i t u t e f o r L a b o u r S t u d i e s B u l l e t i n , 8 (1971): 2 2 0 245. A d o l f S t u r m t h a l , " I n d u s t r i a l Relations Strategies," i n T h e I n t e r n a t i o n a l L a b o r M o v e m e n t , ed. S t u r m t h a l and Scoville. O n the rent strike, see H o b a r t Spalding, L a c l a s e t r a b a j a d o r a a r g e n t i n a : D o c u m e n t o s p a r a s u h i s t o r i a — 1 8 9 0 - 1 9 1 2 (Buenos A i r e s : Editor i a l Galerna, 1970), pp. 4 4 7 - 4 9 6 . In the brief h i s t o r i c a l sketches that f o l l o w I have attempted to give the outlines of the essential trends i n each country, w i t h emphasis o n the h i s t o r i c a l precedents established i n b o t h class relationships and legal structures. Unfortunately, the secondary sources are often contradictory o n matters of fact; as a result, I offer these sketches as strictly tentative portraits. M u c h of m y analysis of Argentine labor m o b i l i z a t i o n is d r a w n f r o m Peter DeShazo, " T h e Failure of R e v o l u t i o n a r y Labor Syndicates i n Argentina, 1900-1930," (unpublished paper, U n i v e r s i t y of W i s c o n s i n , H i s t o r y Department, October 1973), and f r o m R i c h a r d A l a n Yoast, " T h e D e v e l o p m e n t of A r g e n t i n e A n a r c h i s m : A Socio-Ideological A n a l y s i s , " (Ph.D. dissertation, U n i v e r s i t y of W i s c o n s i n , 1975).

152 46.

47. 48.

49.

50.

51.

52.

NOTES TO PAGES 95 — 99 Immigrant labor leadership figures p r o m i n e n t l y i n C a r l Solberg, I m m i g r a t i o n a n d N a t i o n a l i s m : A r g e n t i n a a n d C h i l e , 1 8 9 0 - 1 9 1 4 (Austin: U n i v e r s i t y of Texas Press, 1970). For details o n i m m i g r a n t s i n Argentina, see Eugene F. Sofer, " I m m i g r a t i o n and Entrepreneurship i n Buenos Aires, 1890-1927: T h e Jewish C a s e " (paper presented at Pacific Coast C o u n c i l o n L a t i n A m e r i c a n Studies, Tempe, A r i z . , 1976). Q u o t e d i n Samuel L . Baily, L a b o r , N a t i o n a l i s m a n d P o l i t i c s i n A r g e n t i n a ( N e w B r u n s w i c k , N.J.: Rutgers U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1967), p. 25. D a v i d Rock, P o l i t i c s i n A r g e n t i n a , 1 8 9 0 - 1 9 3 0 : T h e R i s e a n d F a l l of R a d i c a l i s m (Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1975), i s an excellent analysis of the e v o l u t i o n of the R a d i c a l Party's role w i t h i n the Argentine p o l i t i c a l system. For details of research underway o n this right-wing group, see Sandra F. M c G e e , " T h e L i g a Patriótica A r g e n t i n a and the Defense of O r d e r , " L a t i n a m e r i c a n i s t , 13, no. 2 ( M a r c h 1978) (Gainesville: Center for L a t i n A m e r i c a n Studies, U n i v e r s i t y of Florida). T h e Argentine Socialist Party has been given a systematic analysis i n R i c h a r d J. Walter, T h e S o c i a l i s t P a r t y of A r g e n t i n a , 1 8 9 0 - 1 9 3 0 (Austin: Institute of L a t i n A m e r i c a n Studies, U n i v e r s i t y of Texas, 1977). M y analysis of labor movements i n B r a z i l relies heavily o n Boris Fausto, T r a b a l h o u r b a n o e c o n f l i c t o s o c i a l , 1 8 9 0 - 1 9 2 0 (São Paulo: D I F E L , 1976); Sheldon L. M a r a m , " A n a r c h o - s y n d i c a l i s m i n B r a z i l , " i n P r o c e e d i n g s of t h e P a c i f i c C o a s t C o u n c i l o n L a t i n A m e r i c a n S t u d i e s , 4 (1975): 101-116; M a r a m , "Labor and the Left i n Brazil, 1890-1921: A M o v e m e n t A b o r t e d , " H i s p a n i c A m e r i c a n H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , 57, no. 2 ( M a y 1977): 2 5 4 - 2 7 2 . B o t h of the foregoing are largely d r a w n f r o m M a r a m ' s " A n a r c h i s m , Immigrants, a n d the B r a z i l i a n Labor M o v e m e n t , 1 8 9 0 - 1 9 2 0 " (Ph.D dissertation, U n i v e r s i t y of C a l i f o r n i a , Santa Barbara, 1972). T h e latter w o r k was a major source for Fausto. A n earlier w o r k w h i c h gives a w e a l t h of i n f o r m a t i o n is A z i s Simão, S i n d i c a t o e e s t a d o : S u a s relações n a formação d o p r o l e t a r i a d o d e São P a u l o (São Paulo: D I F E L , 1966), w h i c h s h o u l d be supplemented b y Paula Beiguelman, O s c o m p a n h e i r o s d e São P a u l o (São Paulo: Edicões Símbolo, 1977). Important for the decade of the 1920s is Paulo Sérgio Pinheiro, Política e t r a b a l h o n o B r a s i l (Rio de Janeiro: P a z e Terra, 1975). Considerable detail is offered i n John W . F. D u l l e s , A n a r c h i s t s a n d C o m m u n i s t s i n B r a z i l , 1 9 0 0 - 1 9 3 5 ( A u s t i n : U n i v e r s i t y of Texas Press, 1973). Excellent bibliographical surveys m a y be found i n Leôncio M a r t i n s Rodrigues and Fábio Antônio M u n h o z , "Bibliografia sobre trabalhadores e sindicatos n o B r a s i l , " E s t u d o s C E B R A P , no. 7 (Janua r y - M a r c h 1974): 153-171, and L u i z Werneck V i a n n a , "Estudos sobre s i n d i c a l i s m o e m o v i m e n t o operário: Resenha de algumas tendências," B o l e t i m I n f o r m a t i v o e Bibliográfico d e Ciências S o c i a i s (Rio de Janeiro), n o . 3 (1978): 1-40 (supplement to D a d o s , no. 17 [1978]). Sheldon L . M a r a m , " T h e Immigrant and the B r a z i l i a n Labor M o v e -

NOTES TO PAGES I O I - I O 9

53.

54.

55.

56.

57.

58.

5 9.

60.

61.

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ment, 1890-1920," i n E s s a y s C o n c e r n i n g t h e S o c i o e c o n o m i c H i s t o r y of B r a z i l a n d P o r t u g u e s e I n d i a , ed. D a u r i l A l d o n and W a r r e n D e a n (Gainesville: U n i v e r s i t y Presses of Florida, 1977), 178-210. Sheldon L. M a r a m , " U r b a n Labor and Social Change i n the 1920's," f o r t h c o m i n g i n the L u s o - B r a z i l i a n R e v i e w . M a r a m argues that after 1920 the A n a r c h i s t tactics (general strikes, especially) played i n t o the hands of the government, w h i l e at the same t i m e alienating u n i o n members, w h o wanted better pay and w o r k i n g conditions, not p o l i t i cal confrontations. There is a s u m m a r y of the laws i n A l b e r t o da R o c h a Barros, O r i g e n s e evolução d a legislação t r a b a l h i s t a (Rio de Janeiro: Laemmert, 1969), PP. 4 9 - 5 0 . A n excellent h i s t o r i c a l account of the creation of the social security programs i n B r a z i l is given i n James M . M a l l o y , " S o c i a l Security P o l i c y and the W o r k i n g Class i n T w e n t i e t h - C e n t u r y B r a z i l , " J o u r n a l of I n t e r - A m e r i c a n S t u d i e s a n d W o r l d A f f a i r s , 19, no. 1 (February 1977): 3 5 - 5 9 , taken f r o m h i s f o r t h c o m i n g study of the origins and consequences of Brazil's social security system, w h i c h Professor M a l l o y k i n d l y p e r m i t t e d m e to read i n manuscript. T h i s p o i n t is emphasized i n M i c h a e l L. Conniff, " T h e Tenentes i n Power: A N e w Perspective o n the B r a z i l i a n R e v o l u t i o n of 1930," J o u r n a l of L a t i n A m e r i c a n S t u d i e s , 10, Part 1 ( M a y 1976): 6 1 - 8 2 . For a well-documented study of the C o m m u n i s t Party, see R o n a l d H . Chilcote, T h e B r a z i l i a n C o m m u n i s t P a r t y : C o n f l i c t a n d I n t e g r a t i o n , 1 9 2 2 - 1 9 7 2 ( N e w Y o r k : O x f o r d U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1974). T h i s analysis of C h i l e is largely d r a w n f r o m Peter DeShazo, " U r b a n W o r k e r s and Labor U n i o n s i n C h i l e , 1 9 0 2 - 1 9 2 7 " (Ph.D. dissertation, U n i v e r s i t y of W i s c o n s i n , M a d i s o n , 1977), w h i c h presents a w e a l t h of i n f o r m a t i o n o n l i v i n g conditions and u n i o n organization, s h o w i n g clearly the effectiveness of the A n a r c h i s t leadership. T h e standard account of the struggle leading to the adoption of the C h i l e a n labor code is James O . M o r r i s , E l i t e s , I n t e l l e c t u a l s , a n d C o n s e n s u s : A S t u d y of t h e S o c i a l Q u e s t i o n a n d t h e I n d u s t r i a l R e l a t i o n s S y s t e m i n C h i l e (Ithaca: N e w Y o r k State School of Industrial and Labor Relations, C o r n e l l U n i v e r s i t y , 1966), w h i c h includes a very careful exposition of the differing grounds o n w h i c h elite spokesmen proposed to justify and codify a state-sponsored system of labor relations and social welfare. T h e p o l i t i c a l background to the i n t e r v e n t i o n of the m i l i t a r y i n 1924 is given i n Frederick M . N u n n , C h i l e a n P o l i t i c s , 1 9 2 0 - 1 9 3 1 : T h e H o n o r a b l e M i s s i o n of t h e A r m e d F o r c e s (Albuquerque: U n i v e r s i t y of N e w M e x i c o Press, 1970). For a n excellent study of this party and its origins, see P a u l W . D r a k e , S o c i a l i s m a n d P o p u l i s m i n C h i l e , 1 9 3 2 - 5 2 (Urbana: U n i v e r s i t y of I l l i n o i s Press, 1978). T h e relationship between labor u n i o n s a n d left-wing p o l i t i c a l parties

154

NOTES TO PAGES I I O - I I 3 i n C h i l e is w e l l treated i n A n g e l i , P o l i t i c s a n d t h e L a b o u r M o v e m e n t i n C h i l e ; Frederick B. P i k e , i n h i s C h i l e a n d t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s , 1 8 8 0 1 9 6 2 (Notre D a m e : N o t r e D a m e U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1963), described 1920-1933 as the period i n w h i c h " C h i l e A l m o s t Breaks w i t h the Past."

62.

A recent overview of the 1930s i n A r g e n t i n a is presented i n M a r k Falcoff and R o n a l d H . D o l k a r t , " P o l i t i c a l D e v e l o p m e n t s , " i n P r o l o g u e t o Perón: A r g e n t i n a i n D e p r e s s i o n a n d W a r , 1 9 3 0 - 1 9 4 3 , ed. Falcoff and D o l k a r t (Berkeley: U n i v e r s i t y of C a l i f o r n i a Press, 1975), pp. 3 1 - 5 6 . T h e m o s t c o n v i n c i n g account of the origins and significance of the coup of 1930 is Peter H . S m i t h , " T h e Breakdown of D e m o c r a c y i n Argentina, 1 9 1 6 - 3 0 , " i n T h e B r e a k d o w n of D e m o c r a t i c R e g i m e s : L a t i n A m e r i c a , ed. Juan L i n z and A l f r e d Stepan (Baltimore: Johns H o p k i n s U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1978), pp. 3 - 2 7 .

63.

T h e m o s t balanced systematic evaluation of the Perón era up to 195 5 is Peter W a l d m a n n , D e r P e r o n i s m u s , 1 9 4 3 - 1 9 5 5 (Hamburg: Hoffm a n n u n d Campe, 1974). Perón's death i n 1974 m a y f i n a l l y m a k e possible a scholarly biography of t h i s i m p o r t a n t figure. W e lack a thorough investigation i n t o the G O U . T h e question of officer o p i n i o n toward labor is discussed i n Robert A . Potash, T h e A r m y a n d P o l i t i c s i n A r g e n t i n a , 1 9 2 8 - 1 9 4 5 : Y r i g o y e n t o Perón (Stanford: Stanford U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1969), pp. 2 2 7 - 2 2 9 , 2 5 9 - 2 6 1 . A s W a l d m a n notes, the exact h i s t o r i c a l role of the G O U i n the 1943 coup and the subsequent government policies has yet to be clearly established ( D e r P e r o n i s m u s , pp. 156-162).

64.

65

66. 67.

For an analysis of the circumstances that led G e n e r a l Lanusse to decide i n favor of Perón's return, see D a v i d R o c k , " T h e S u r v i v a l and D e s t r u c t i o n of P e r o n i s m , " i n A r g e n t i n a i n t h e T w e n t i e t h C e n t u r y , ed. R o c k (Pittsburgh: U n i v e r s i t y of Pittsburgh Press, 1975), pp. 1 7 9 221. For a n interpretation sympathetic to the armed revolutionary l i n e i n Argentina, see François G è z e and A l a i n Labrousse, A r g e n t i n e Révolution e t contre-révolutions (Paris: Editions d u Seuil, 1975). T h o m a s E. Skidmore, " F a i l u r e i n B r a z i l : F r o m Popular Front to A r m e d R e v o l t , " J o u r n a l of C o n t e m p o r a r y H i s t o r y , 5, no. 3: 137-157. A perceptive analysis of B r a z i l i a n labor legislation and the ideological background of its adoption m a y be found i n L u i z Werneck V i a n n a , L i b e r a l i s m o e s i n d i c a t o n o B r a s i l (Rio de Janeiro: Paz e Terra, 1976). T h e growth of the labor relations and social welfare systems and the manner i n w h i c h they have been m o d i f i e d by the authoritarian governments since 1964 is given i n M a r i a Hermínia Tavares de A l m e i d a , " O sindicato n o Brasil: N o v o s problems, velhas estruturas," D e b a t e é) Crítica, no. 6 (July 1975): 4 9 - 7 4 . A careful analysis of the B r a z i l i a n labor relations system, w i t h emphasis o n the populist m o b i l i z a t i o n of the early 1960s, is given i n K e n n e t h P a u l E r i c k s o n , T h e B r a z i l i a n C o r p o r a t i v e S t a t e a n d W o r k i n g - C l a s s P o l i t i c s (Berkeley: U n i v e r s i t y of C a l i f o r n i a Press, 1977).

NOTES TO PAGES 1 1 4 - 1 2 1 68.

69.

70.

71.

72.

73.

74.

75.

155

T h e relative importance of the workers' spontaneous m o b i l i z a t i o n i n 1953 has been l u c i d l y analyzed i n José A l v a r o Moisés, G r e v e d e m a s s a e c r i s e política: E s t u d o d a g r e v e d o s 3 0 0 m i l e m São P a u l o — 1 9 5 3 / 5 4 (São Paulo: E d . P o l i s , 1978). Moisés is especially c r i t i c a l of the C o m m u n i s t Party's decision to channel the w o r k e r s ' c o m m i s sions back i n t o the official u n i o n structure. T h e study of B r a z i l i a n p o l i t i c a l party h i s t o r y has been i n h i b i t e d by the w i d e l y h e l d v i e w that B r a z i l i a n parties since 1945 have been l i t t l e more t h a n agglomerations of personalistic associations. In fact, electoral data for the 1945-1964 period do not support that interpretation; the data deserve m u c h m o r e careful study t h a n has yet been the case, a p o i n t argued effectively i n M a r i a do C a r m o C . C a m p e l l o de Souza, E s t a d o e p a r t i d o s políticos n o B r a s i l ( 1 9 3 0 - 1 9 6 4 ) (São P a u l o : E d . A l f a Omega, 1976). H o b a r t Spalding posits three variables as h a v i n g influenced the development of L a t i n A m e r i c a n urban labor m o v e m e n t s : (1) "fluctuations of the international e c o n o m y and decisions taken b y governments i n advanced capitalist n a t i o n s " ; (2) " t h e c o m p o s i t i o n of, and tensions between, the i n t e r n a t i o n a l and the l o c a l r u l i n g classes"; and (3) "the c o m p o s i t i o n , structure, and h i s t o r i c a l f o r m a t i o n of the w o r k i n g class" (Spalding, O r g a n i z e d L a b o r i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , p. ix). H o w a r d J. Wiarda, " C o r p o r a t i v e O r i g i n s of the Iberian and L a t i n A m e r i c a n Labor Relations Systems," S t u d i e s i n C o m p a r a t i v e I n t e r n a t i o n a l D e v e l o p m e n t , 13, no. 1 (Spring 1978): 3 - 3 7 . R u t h Berins C o l l i e r and D a v i d C o l l i e r , "Inducements versus C o n straints: Disaggregating ' C o r p o r a t i s m , ' " A m e r i c a n P o l i t i c a l S c i e n c e R e v i e w , forthcoming. R u t h C o l l i e r is presently engaged i n a comparative study of the i n c o r p o r a t i o n of the "popular sector" and regime e v o l u t i o n i n B r a z i l and M e x i c o , w h i c h includes analysis of policies toward labor, b o t h i n l a w and i n practice. A n excellent start toward this analysis has been made i n James P a u l M c C o n a r t y , " T h e Defense of the W o r k i n g Class i n the B r a z i l i a n C h a m b e r of Deputies, 1 9 1 7 - 1 9 2 0 , " ( M . A . thesis, T u l a n e U n i v e r s i t y , 1973). T h i s is the p o i n t pursued i n C a i n , " T h e Challenge of Segmented Labor M a r k e t T h e o r i e s . " Examples of " d u a l labor m a r k e t " analyses are given i n Kannappan, S t u d i e s of U r b a n L a b o u r M a r k e t B e h a v i o r , w h i c h includes a study of wage differentials i n São Paulo's manufact u r i n g firms by José Pastore, A r c h i b a l d H a l l e r , and Hernando G o m e z Buendia. O n these questions there is a rapidly g r o w i n g literature, of w h i c h the f o l l o w i n g is a brief sampling: Douglas H . G r a h a m , "Interstate M i g r a t i o n and the Industrial Labor Force i n Center-South B r a z i l , " T h e J o u r n a l of D e v e l o p i n g A r e a s , 12, no. 1 (October 1977): 3 1 - 4 6 ; Bruce H. Herrick, U r b a n M i g r a t i o n a n d E c o n o m i c D e v e l o p m e n t i n C h i l e (Cambridge, M a s s . : M I T Press, 1965); V i c e n t e Vázquez-Presedo, E l

156

76.

77. 78. 79.

80.

NOTES TO PAGES 122-126 c a s o a r g e n t i n o : Migración d e f a c t o r e s , c o m e r c i o e x t e r i o r y d e s a r r o l l o , 1 8 7 5 - 1 9 1 4 (Buenos A i r e s : E U D E B A , 1971); D o n a l d B. Keesing, " E m p l o y m e n t and L a c k of E m p l o y m e n t i n M e x i c o , 1 9 0 0 - 7 0 , " i n Q u a n t i t a t i v e L a t i n A m e r i c a n S t u d i e s : M e t h o d s a n d F i n d i n g s , ed. James W . W i l k i e and K e n n e t h Ruddle, Statistical Abstract of L a t i n A m e r i c a , Supplement 6 (Los Angeles: U C L A L a t i n A m e r i c a n Center, 1977), pp. 3—21; T h o m a s H . H o l l o w a y , " C r e a t i n g the Reserve A r m y ? T h e I m m i g r a t i o n Program of São Paulo, 1886-1930," I n t e r n a t i o n a l R e v i e w , 12 (1978): 187-209. Julio Samuel Valenzuela, " T h e C h i l e a n Labor M o v e m e n t : T h e Instit u t i o n a l i z a t i o n of C o n f l i c t , " i n C h i l e : P o l i t i c s a n d S o c i e t y , ed. A r t u r o Valenzuela and J. Samuel Valenzuela ( N e w B r u n s w i c k , N.J.: Transact i o n Books, 1976), p. 156. A n g e l i , P o l i t i c s a n d t h e L a b o u r M o v e m e n t i n C h i l e , pp. 177,192-193. Ibid., p. 101. T h e m i l i t a n c y of the more p o l i t i c a l l y ambitious elements w i t h i n the official labor m o v e m e n t is w e l l analyzed i n E r i c k s o n , T h e B r a z i l i a n C o r p o r a t i v e State. A s e m i n a l analysis of this process is Barrington M o o r e , Jr., S o c i a l O r i g i n s of D i c t a t o r s h i p a n d D e m o c r a c y (Boston: Beacon Press, 1966). For a m e t i c u l o u s e x a m i n a t i o n of the relationship between e c o n o m i c development and p o l i t i c a l systems i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , see D a v i d C o l lier, " T i m i n g of E c o n o m i c G r o w t h and Regime Characterization i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , " C o m p a r a t i v e P o l i t i c s , 7 ( A p r i l 1975): 3 3 1 - 3 5 9 .

University of St. Thomas B. K. Smith Lectures in History

1958. 1959. 1961. 1962. 1963. 1964. 1965. 1966. 1967. 1968. 1970. 1971. 1972. 1974. 1976. 1978.

C a r l t o n J. H . Hayes, " S o m e Uses and Abuses of H i s t o r y . " K u r t V o n Schuschnigg, C e n t r a l E u r o p e : P a s t A d v e n t u r e , P r e s ent Labor, Future Vision. John U . Nef, R e l i g i o n a n d t h e S t u d y of M a n . E. E. Y . Hales, T h e F i r s t V a t i c a n C o u n c i l . Wallace K. Ferguson, E r a s m u s a n d C h r i s t i a n H u m a n i s m . Oscar H a l e c k i , P o l a n d a n d C h r i s t e n d o m . Robert F. Byrnes, R u s s i a a C e n t u r y A g o . R i c h a r d E. S u l l i v a n , T h e M e d i e v a l C h u r c h : A V i e w f r o m t h e 1 9 6 0 s . R a y m o n d H . Schmandt, T h e C r u s a d e s : O r i g i n of a n E c u m e n i c a l Problem. Francis Oakley, K i n g s h i p a n d t h e G o d s : T h e W e s t e r n A p o s t a s y . Josep L. A l t h o l z , T h e C o n s c i e n c e of L o r d A c t o n . David Herlihy, W o m e n i n M e d i e v a l S o c i e t y . Lewis Hanke, S p a n i s h V i c e r o y s i n A m e r i c a . Ernest M a y and Walter LaFeber, T h e I m p a c t of War o n t h e U n i t e d States i n the T w e n t i e t h Century. J. R. P o l e and G o r d o n W o o d , S o c i a l R a d i c a l i s m a n d t h e I d e a of Equality in the A m e r i c a n Revolution. E. Bradford Burns and T h o m a s E. Skidmore, " P o p u l a r Challenges and E l i t e Responses i n L a t i n A m e r i c a , 1 8 5 0 - 1 9 3 0 . " (Lectures f r o m 1959 through 1976 have been published by the U n i v e r s i t y of St. T h o m a s . For i n f o r m a t i o n , w r i t e the H i s t o r y Department, U n i v e r s i t y of St. T h o m a s , 3812 M o n t r o s e Boulevard, H o u s t o n , Texas 77006.)