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SOCIAL CHANGE
IN LATIN AMERICA

TODAY

RICHARD N. ADAMS

■196 ii\

JOHN P. GILLIN

45 lid

%J ALLAN R. HOLMBERG

fm OSCAR LEWIS

$%. iV

h\ RICHARD W. PATCH

3 ;* -^k ^^ w

Y CHARLES WAGLEY

1 Introduction by

VINTAGE BOOK ^

A LYMAN BRYSON

Social Change

in Latin America

Today:

ITS IMPLICATIONS FOR
UNITED STATES POLICY

Social Change

in Latin America/

Today:

ITS IMPLICATIONS FOR
UNITED STATES POLICY

Richard N. Adams / Oscar Lewis

John P. Gillin / Richard W. Patch

Allan R. Holmberg / Charles Wagley

INTRODUCTION BY

Lyman Bryson

VINTAGE BOOKS

A Division of Random House
New York

The Council on Foreign Relations is a non-profit institution
devoted to study of the international aspects of American
political, economic, and strategic problems. It takes no stand,
expressed or implied, on American policy.

The authors of books published under the auspices of the
Council are responsible for their statements, of fact and ex-
pressions of opinion. The Council is responsible only for
determining that they should be presented to the public.

For information, address Council on Foreign
Relations, 58 East 68th Street, New York 21

Published as a Vintage Book by arrangement
with the Council on Foreign Relations

VINTAGE BOOKS
are published by Alfred a. knopf, inc.

and RANDOM HOUSE, INC.

First Vintage Edition, September 1961
Manufactured in the United States of America

COUNCIL ON FOREIGN RELATIONS

OFFICERS AND DIRECTORS

John J. McCloy

Chairman of the Board

Henry M. Wriston
President

Frank Altschul David Rockefeller

Vice-President & Secretary Vice-President

Elliott V. Bell George S. Franklin, Jr.
Treasurer Executive Director

William Henderson Frank D. Caruthers, Jr.

Associate Executive Director Assistant Treasurer

Hamilton Fish Armstrong Joseph E. Johnson

William A. M. Burden Grayson L. Kirk

Arthur H. Dean Walter H. Mallory

Lewis W. Douglas Philip D. Reed

Allen W. Dulles Whitney H. Shepardson

Thomas K. Finletter Charles M. Spofford

William C. Foster Adlai E. Stevenson

John H. Williams

COMMITTEE ON STUDIES

Henry M. Wriston

Chairman

Hamilton Fish Armstrong Joseph E. Johnson
Arthur H. Dean Grayson L. Kirk

Byron Dexter August Maffry

Caryl P. Haskins Willard L. Thorp

John H. Williams

STUDIES PROGRAM

Philip E. Mosely

Director of Studies

William Diebold, Jr. John C. Campbell

Director of Economic Studies Director of Political Studies

FOREWORD

In the years since World War II both makers and think-
ers of foreign policy have been more acutely aware than
before that the interaction of states and peoples does not
take place on some abstract plane of equal and identical
nationhood but against a background of wide cultural and
social diversity. "Nationalism," "equality," "progress,"
"democracy"— these and other words take on different
meanings in different settings. To understand these dif-
ferences has become important, even vital, to the thinking
and conduct of policy in a rapidly changing, some say a
"revolutionary," stage of history.

How can social anthropologists, who have made great
strides in the past generation in broadening our under-
standing of cultural patterns and social forces, best con-
tribute to the essential fund of our knowledge of new
processes of social and political change? And how can
political analysts and policy-makers best draw upon the
anthropologists' accumulated findings and fresh insights?
The Council's project on Social Change in Latin America
was undertaken, in some part, to serve as a case study in
the interaction of anthropological research and political
science and, in larger part, to fill a gap in the tool kit with
which North Americans approach the crucial problems of
U.S. relations with the peoples of Latin America.

What lies behind the rise and fall of caudillos, the stag-
nation of many peasant regions, the gap which divides
Indians from mestizos, the brilliant rise of great cities, the
new restlessness which brings a Castro or an Arhenz~to

viii Social Change in Latin America Today

power on a wave of anti-jingoism? What factors of social
change are working for a wider sharing of economic and
cultural opportunities, for an orderly participation of
larger3ncLiaj^£iL_se^^

merit of their governmentsP^These six essays, IntroEuced
by "tHelat^Xyman T&ryson, provide some striking answers,
necessarily incomplete though they may be, to these and
related questions. Of necessity, they do not offer recipes for
day-to-day decisions. They may, we hope, help provide a
part of the background for understanding the sources of
social and ideological turmoil and the ever-changing
challenge to political wisdom.

Each of the six participating authors is an authority in
his own field. Each has devoted many years to the grass-
roots study of several regions and nations of Latin Amer-
ica. All of them have become conscious of the potential
importance for policy of their research findings. Several
of them, particularly Allan R. Holmberg, have planned
or participated in programs for promoting or inducing
social change. Whether as observers or doers, they have
placed their emphasis on the meaning, both for the peoples
concerned and for the United States, of the profound social
changes that are reshaping so much of Latin American
life in our own generation.

John P. Gillin, author of "Some Signposts for Policy,"
Dean of Social Sciences at the University of Pittsburgh, has
carried out numerous field studies in some six countries
of Spanish America. Allan R. Holmberg, professor of an-
thropology at Cornell University, has been the moving
spirit in a fruitful enterprise of scientific collaboration
between Latin American and North American anthropol-
ogists, especially in the Vicos experiment, which he de-
scribes in "Changing Community Attitudes and Values in
Peru: A Case Study in Guided Change." Richard W.
Patch, a member of the American Universities Field Staff,
has carried out extensive studies of both village and na-
tional society in Bolivia since the revolution of 1952. In
this volume he analyzes "Bolivia: U.S. Assistance in a

Foreword ix

Revolutionary Setting." Charles Wagley, professor of an-
thropology at Columbia University, has been intimately
concerned for twenty years with the study of Brazilian
society; he has also pioneered in large-scale regional and
village studies carried on jointly by Brazilian and U.S.
social scientists. His "The Brazilian Revolution: Social
Changes Since 1930" summarizes a generation of intensive
and original work. Richard N. Adams, professor of an-
thropology at Michigan State University and formerly a
staff member of the World Health Organization and In-
stitute of Social Anthropology, has carried out his investi-
gations of "Social Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy"
before, during, and since the Arbenz regime. Oscar Lewis,
professor of anthropology at the University of Illinois and
author of "Mexico Since Cardenas," has made careful
studies of the processes of social change in several rural
regions of Mexico and of the growth of Mexico City, and
is completing a new study of the emerging middle class
and its role in Mexican society.

The Council on Foreign Relations wishes to thank each
of the six authors for the enthusiasm with which they re-
sponded to its invitation to interpret their research findings
in the light of present and prospective challenges to U.S.
policy in this hemisphere, for their stimulating contribu-
tions to the meetings of the Council's Discussion Group,
and for the patience with which they have elaborated and
updated their essays for presentation in this volume. The
authors join with the Council and its staff in expressing
their gratitude to their chairman, the late Lyman Bryson,
for the skill and grace with which he challenged both an-
thropologists and political scientists to identify areas of
blended or at least common discourse, and their regret
that he is no longer in our midst to inspire and guide
our efforts to peer into the future.

Under Lyman Bryson's chairmanship the Discussion
Group held six meetings. Its members, in addition to the
six authors, were: Miron Burgin, John C. Campbell, Dana
S. Creel, Charles Dollard, Phanor J. Eder, David M. Freu-

x Social Change in Latin America Today

denthal, Berent Friele, Samuel P. Hayes, Jr., Stacy May,
Paul R. Miller, Jr., Philip E. Mosely, Dana G. Munro,
Joshua B. Powers, Clarence Senior, Carleton Sprague
Smith, Frank Tannenbaum, Charles Temple, Kenneth W.
Thompson, and Edward L. Tinker. Guests at individual
meetings were: Adolf A. Berle, Jr., Lewis S. Gannett,
Carter Goodrich, Otto Klineberg, William W. Marvel,
Charles Shipman Payson, Ernest V. Siracusa, Leo D.
Welch, Arthur P. Whitaker, and Bryce Wood. The group
also expresses its thanks to Peter Davies, Stanley Leyden,
and Roberto E. Socas, who served as rapporteurs.

The planning of this volume was carried on by Philip
E. Mosely, Director of Studies, and in this he benefited
greatly from the wise and generous counsel of John W.
Gardner and Charles Wagley. Mr. Mosely also edited the
volume for publication. William Diebold, Jr., Director
of Economic Studies, and Helena Stalson, Research As-
sociate, provided invaluable guidance and assistance in the
difficult problems of economics and demography. Byron
Dexter read the complete drafts and made many valuable
suggestions of substance and style. Lorna Brennan carried
out the arduous task of copy editing and supervised the
copying of numerous drafts. The staff of the Library,
particularly Janet Rigney, were very helpful in supplying
information and checking numerous references. Elizabeth
Kridl Valk^rn'er prepared the index with her usual skill.

The reporting of facts and the statements of opinion are,
as usual, the responsibility of the authors, not of the mem-
bers of the Discussion Group, in which many diverse
opinions were expressed, or of the Council on Foreign
Relations. The Council on Foreign Relations presents
these studies as a contribution to the study and formula-
tion of U.S. policy toward the new Latin America that is
emerging under our very eyes to a world-wide role of per-
haps decisive importance.

CONTENTS

Foreword vii

Introduction, by Lyman Bryson 1

One. Some Signposts for Policy, by John P.

Gillin 14

Race and Society 18

Class and Society 21

A Class in Search of a Future 24
The Middle Segments and Their

Values 28

The Changing Life of Latin America 47

Some Suggestions for U.S. Policy 58

Two. Changing Community Attitudes and
Values in Peru: A Case Study in

Guided Change, by Allan R. Holmberg 63

Peru: The Historical Setting for

Change 64
The Geographical Setting and Social

Change 66
Population Distribution and Social

Structure 67

Present Trends of Change 70

Peru's Indian Problem 75

A Pilot Attempt at Social Change 78

Toward New Community Leadership 87

New Goals in Education and Health 89

xii Social Change in Latin America Today

The End of the Hacienda System at
Vicos 95

A Positive Approach for the Future 97

Interdependence of Economic and
Social Change 98

Development of Local Leadership 100

Relations between Mestizos and In-
dians 102

Opening New Channels of Commu-
nication 104

The Role of U.S. Policy 106

Three. Bolivia: U.S. Assistance in a Revolution-
ary Setting, by Richard W. Patch 108

Divergent Approaches to the Boliv-
ian Revolution 109
Land and People 112
From the Chaco War to Social Revo-
lution 1 14
The Indians and Agrarian Revolt 119
The Government and Agrarian Re-
form 124
Bolivia's Seven Plagues 129
Campesino Attitudes and Cultural

Change 137
The Process of Cultural Change 142
U.S. Technical Assistance and Eco-
nomic Aid 151
Some Problems of the Aid Program 157
Bolivia's Economic Prospects 166
Another Approach to U.S. Aid 168

Four. The Brazilian Revolution: Social

Changes since 1930, by Charles Wagley 177

Traditional Brazil 179

Contents xiii

The Brazilian Revolution 188

Modern Brazil 209

Brazil and the United States 227

Five. Social Change in Guatemala and U.S.

Policy, by Richard N. Adams 231

The Impact of World War II 233

The Impact of U.S. Aid Programs 235

Who Are the Guatemalans? 238
A New Factor: The Continuous

Character of Change 257

The Impact of Ladino-izztion 261
The Impact of Technological

Change 263
The Primacy of Political and Social

Change 266
The Communist Bid for Power and

Its Aftermath 268
Needed: A Dynamic Policy of Social

Change 273

Six. Mexico since Cardenas, by Oscar Lewis 285

Population Growth and Urbaniza-
tion 287
Mexico's Indian Population 289
Immigration, Emigration, and the

Bracer o Movement 291
Culture Change and U.S. Influence 294
Economic Development 299
Foreign Investment 303
Industrial Expansion; Transporta-
tion and Communication 309
Agricultural Development 312
Exports and Imports 319

xiv Social Change in Latin America Today

Income Distribution 321

Levels of Living 326

Education 329

Religion 332

The Changing Social Structure 334

Index 347

INTRODUCTION
by Lyman Bryson

Most policies in international relations, even for a coun-
try like ours whose interests have expanded so fast, are

JomF'of these old ideas are, of

course^ historical facts of lasting significance. Some of them
are encrusted prejudices. We are lucky when our acquaint-
ance with some region of world importance is made upy

mostly of innocent ignorance?? because there is in that case>

a chance to found our policy on fresh and genuine knowl-
edge.

As regards Latin America, the policy of the United States
has been largely improvised and^there is still time to ignore
the past and found a lasting policy on knowledge acquired I
by the modern methods of social science. The anthropol-
ogists can tell us facts about the peoples of Latin America
which were not accurately known about any peoples when
most of the old notions of diplomacy were formulated and
sanctified. This region is bound to play a great role in our
affairs. It has been studied by trained observers and we i
now have the [beginnings/at least of something like real P
acquaintance. It would be a great loss to miss this chance,
and theTmrpose of this bookJs_to_ca11 the attemion_of
policy-makers ^^ and^pjiblic^^nion in the United Statesto
the^TrncToTinformation they^can usejf they will.

The scientists whcTTiave written the six essays here
assembled, and who engaged in long discussions with the
members of the study group organized by the Council on

2 Social Change in Latin America Today

Foreign Relations, do not offer definite suggestions as to
what our Latin American policy ought to be. They do
venture, in a>few instances, to point to what they believe
have beenfglaring errors^ But they cannot, as scientists,
pretend to De policy-makers. Their role is different, more
fundamental and not less difficult. They can help policy-
makers know better the peoples with whom they deal. In
fact, the anthropologists demonstrate in these essays that
they can provide information which the ordinary working
staff of an embassy could never hope to get, no matter how
well trained or how energetic. The anthropologist has a
different approach. He is trained to get into the skins of
strange peoples, insofar as that can be done, and to free
rlirnleiroFtrTF^ssumptions which make him a member of
ruT own tribe at home. 1 his is much more than a knowl-
eHgeof the languages, although that skill is generally
more firmly exercised by the scientist than by the diplomat.
It involves searching and friendly inquiries outside the
high circles of government and national affairs. It com-
prises also a rigorous training in the relativity of cultural
assumptions and the relativity of value systems. The an-
thropologist is an expert in helping others learn to be less
"culture-bound."

A reading of these six papers indicates that one funda-
mental fact we now know about Latin America is that
all^of the countries to the south of us, in varying degrees
but all in some measure, are undergoing social, economic,
uand political changes which pain and bewilder their people
and make them more dimcuit to deal with]

In many places, the changes cannot be measured. It is
only a complicated country that can describe itself or be
described in comparative measures because only highly
developed countries collect statistics. The simple annals
of a Guatemalan village or a Bolivian mining town are
not complicated, but they are not easy to locate. It takes
patience and sympathy and well-trained skill to see under
the surface, or even under the current impressions which
the villages themselves may have of what is going on.

Introduction 3

But the sweep of basic change cannot be mistaken. It is
affecting the lives of Latin Americans in at least four ways,
as Mr. Gillin shows in his comprehensive essay.

There arejfirst^jchanges in the relations among the more
primitive, tribal organizations ancTthe new forms of na-
tionalism and national unityTNations are being made up
oTmoriror less interrelated groups. The locus of patriotism
is being shifted in many places. Closely intertwined with
the changes shown in the unification of tribes into nations
is another set of changes in the relations among different
races. The population of Latin America is much less Euro-
pean in its racial mixtures than the populations of the
United States and Canada, as we well know. But the pro-
portion of Indians— that is, Indians by cultural habits as
well as by blood— differs greatly in different countries. In
some places the Indians are moving into more sophisti-
cated ways, or at least the ways of their jwlntejieighbors,
and this generally means an upward movement economi-
cally if not sociallyT'ItTs likely also to mean a greater
participation in the rather unstable systems of self-
government.

These two kinds of shifting in indigenous patterns, in
tribal organizations, and in racial integrations complicate
a third kind of change which is not peculiar to Latin
America. Indeed, it is going on in most parts of the world.
The Latin Americans are moving into the cities and build-
ing up power industry. Agriculture is still the chief in-
dustry in Latin American countries, even in Mexico where
modern technology is making swift progress. But the big
cities are getting bigger. Mexico City is now the second .
largest city in the two Americas; it contains 13 per cent of V
all Mexicans. Sao Fauio, Buenos Aires, and Rio de Janeiro
are close behind. And these cities comprise a large pro-
portion of the population of their respective countries.
Smaller places that are still big enough to have the living
and working conditions of urban centers are also growing
in size and number. And in these cities and large towns
the factories are going up. Industry demandsWrderJxTaD^

4 Social Change in Latin America Today

in a money economy, and its demands shatter the imme-
morial patterns of primitive life.

These three sets of changes must necessarily make
changes also in the attitudes of both governments and peo-
ples toward the United States. The people look at their
powerful northern neighbor sometimes more_ kindly,
sometimes Tess kindly, than" do the governments of_tbe
moment. When there is conflict in the voices we hear from
one ot these countries it is difficult to avoid the stock fal-
lacies of international intercourse. A country under a
dictator always speaks with one voice and has the look of
either friendship or hostility, simple and evident. When a
country is in a tumult of political change, it may give forth
confused noises of a]most_ev£r^leiT^io^
when a country is really free, or nas made substantial steps
toward freedom, it will always show a somewhat mixed
attitude toward a neighbor. In other words, what we have
to take carefully into account is that an uncertain attitude
toward ourselves in any country may be the result of con-
fusion and undigested changes, or it may be the sign that
free speech has been achieved. To find an example in more
distant nations, we get a clear picture of hostility from
official Russian contacts, whatever the Russian people may
really feel toward us. We get on all occasions a mixed
chorus of boos and cheers from the friendly but free-
speaking British.

Our six essays cover the general drift of change in five_
areas offspecial interest:! Brazil, Peru and Bolivia, Guate-
mala ana Ivlexico. Brazil is an area~of broad changes which
are being made without some of the strains seen in other
| countries, but Mr. Wagley still finds it appropriate to de-
j scribe its change as a "revolution/' Peru is also slowly
being transformed in social and economic institutions. In
Bolivia the pace is so swift that violent revolution has been
barely prevented and may still break out if the demands of
the long-suffering people are not met. In Guatemala the
conflict appears to be more ideological than economic and
takes overt political forms. In Mexico we have conditions

Introduction 5

closer to those we are used to in the United States, a tech-
nological revolution in a somewhat earlier stage than our
own. For that reason the chapter on Mexico gives us more
statistical information on the nation's economy than we
could possibly get from the other areas.

Xfre materials on which these papers were based were
collected by all the techniques of the modern social scien-
tist. Where there were records, they were studied. Trie
opinions of the city dwellers, heavily charged with preju-
dices for or against the United States, imbued with Euro-
pean learning and experience, were gathered but were not
mistaken for the voices of the people. This does not mean
that the intellectuals of the Latin countries are ignored.
Indeed, it is strongly recommended that we give the
artists and scholars and philosophers the same respectful
hearing they receive from their own countrymen. We need
to listen to them, to cultivate their good will, and to en-
large generously the interchanges between the intellectual
institutions of Latin America and our own. _

But the anthropologist goes also into the slums of the
newly aggregated industrial towns, into the mines and vil-
lages, and also into the remote feudal estates where life
is simple, hard, and removed, but (ernotionally secure) He
traces the changing patterns of the farmer who begins to ,
drop off Indian customs, of the peasant who tries to live
in the unfamiliar city, the outraged worker who listens to
revolutionary talk, the newly rich and the ancient poor. I
fie watches living men and women moving through these I
patterns in the confusions modern life has created.

The Latin American peasant or miner may look outside
for a villain to blame for his troubles and find jiim in the
NorthAmerican capitalist. He may even look outside for
aTriencl and find him in the Kremlin-inspired Communist.
He°*may find the word both use, "democracy/' too empty
of content to be reassuring. The anthropologist studies the
srYIfting meanings and demands that go through the minds
of these people. He is politically aware as well as scien-
tifically observant. He has mastered and evaluated large

6 Social Change in Latin America Today

quantities of material, on which to base his cautious con-
clusions.

It is not, as I said, the business of the specialist to make
policy decisions. He is able to point out the relevance of
his findings to policy considerations, but he can do this
only if called on and listened to. Underlying much of the
scholarly caution of these papers there is a well-disciplined
impatience with bureaucratic impenetrability. In fact, the
tape-bound bureaucrat is one kind of human being the
anthropologists seem to understand least of all. They do
not see the reasons for his troubles; sometimes they fail
even to try to learn his language. But as time goes on, the
anthropologist's usefulness becomes more apparent and
the knowledge of the foreign relations officer in the social
sciences is enlarged. A partnership useful to both and
greatly useful to the rest of us is being forged. The diplo-
matic mind is getting to be less "culture-bound." The
. scientific mind may be getting more practical also, al-
j though this is not necessarily the case since the role of the
\ i scientist is still to project theories, to collect and interpret
* I facts. Only when asked can he help in discovering their
* relevance to high policy.

This kind of knowledge may enable the representatives
of our government in foreign lands, and especially in coun-
tries now undergoing profound transformations, to get at
levels ot^THe^^puIation not reached beforehand scarcely^
ever understood. In the case of most Latin American areas,
the new levels of power and understanding are just coming
into existence. Mr. Gillin calls them the "middle mass"
and that term is usefully descriptive. The middle mass is
not a class in the usual meaning of that European word.
It is not yet fully self-conscious and it is not rigidly organ-
ized. But it is a real force and its power grows.

It is a conviction of my own, for which I cannot blame
any oTthe contributors to this volume, that_the slow prog-
ress^ of democratic ideas in many of the countries which
seem to our eyes politically backward is caused by the lack
^pf a class of "operators" and our own compounding failure

Introduction 7

to recognize and strengthen the operators where they
exist. We cannot be sure that we perceive an interacting
association in theory between democracy and modern in- j
clustrialism, but we act as if we believed they were inex-^
tricable. We approach the countries where we hope to
make friends for our own international policies of peace j
and freedom with the tools ot material advancement, with *
new capital, and with technical advisers. There seems to
be an unacknowledged assumption that, if we could share
our engineering and business know-how, 6ur beneficiaries
would thereby know how to vote. There is certainly this
much truth in this unstated principle. Poverty-stricken
people want material help and they can see~political values
best in ready cash. Our own attitudes toward our own
prosperity and our own freedom would indicate that this
is natural, although it may be more sophisticated in its f
WelternTorms]
~WKItiveil^^
and machines, we ought to face the~racTtiiat most of the
poor countries w^arejryjng to persuade into freedom have
no middle class. They have never needed one. A middle
class, a middle mass, is produced by growing economic and
technological activity and is required by further progress
of that kind. The poor countries, such as those in the
Middle East, for example! which are now making us so
much trouble, have had masses of the veryjjoor _anc[ a ^thin
scum of the very rich on top. Their leaders, like (NasserTV
can rujp hy^hgjjressure prstreet mobs because the streets\
arejhinj^fimed unemployed, and un- ?

rewarded men. In medieval times, when those social pat- -.
terns were created, the mass below toiled without rest or «
comfort at the simplest tasks, by the oldest methods. The *
rich made meager proportionate profits on their holdings JC
but were luxurious because they held enormous estates. ^
The only operators needed in such a system were the slave j
overseers of the owners and a few more or less subservient
merchants. I am aware that I am not now describing Latin
America but the parallel is real. Poor countries are slow to

8 Social Change in Latin America Today

fc learn the uses of democracy_because they have had no
middle group of the kind that does the more skilled work
of the economy, manages the machines as they are created,
provides a hospitable group into which the gifted poor
man can climb, mediates between igjiorant poverty and
_^Hndjvealth, and gets personal beneht outof increasing
freedom and self-government.

The Middle East (and I believe Latin America also) has
long had idealists of freedom. Their intellectuals, their
poets and philosophers have expressed freedom as well and
in many cases better than their Western contemporaries.
But no implementation of freedom is possible without a
democratic-minded and democratically ambitious mjddle^
group, those whom 1 have called [Tfle opera tors. \ They are
noTonTy necessary to the economy; they afe~aIso necessary
to democracy.

" On thiTaccbunt, and to the extent that I am right, it is
of the greatest significance that Mr. Gillin sees in Mexico
especially, but more or less everywhere, the growth of the
middle mass. In Mexico, which is the most advanced of
the^Latin countries TjudgejiJwour standards, the middle
mass has most clearly emerged. In otrTer^c^urimes, Bolivia
for example, as described by Mr. Patch, the cultural
changes are not yet effective in bringing these middle
groups into power and revolutions seem more likely than
democracy.

We would be making another mistake, however, if we
took it for granted that thefcultural invasion of machine^
and self-government, as North American imports, will in-
evitably and immediately make for friendliness toward us,
even where they are accepted. It is the opinion of our
specialists, variously expressed, that the jnovement^of
Nortn" American aid, machines and political ideas Into
many places increases hostility. This may be, of course, a
natural result of more freedom of expression. As I have
already said, the hostilities of a growing democratic move-
ment toward an older and more powerful democracy are
in part the mere emergence of free-speaking.

Introduction 9

There is more to it than that, however. There is one
kind of hostility toward another power which is the natu-
ral outcome of continued dependence. In their first con-
tacts wTtri^n^irid^malTy stronger powerL^_poor country
is generally eager for help and looks upon capital invasions^
as benefits. It is mucrTlike the farmer who asks a loan from
the village bankerJltbegs^But gratitude toward a creditor
or an invading capitalist soon vanishes because the benefits
are taken for granted and dependency is observed to be
unpleasant. The banker who was once the giver of ready
cash is now the creditor who wants it back, with interest.
The poor country, not so poor now perhaps and forgetful,
wants to get back the old freedom and still keep the new
benefits. This is the kind of dependent's hostility that we
are used to and are more or less prepared to bear.

Dependent economies are very likely, however, if the
metropolitan country has capital and technical knowledge
to spare, to become independent. Economic empires break
up for the same reason as do political empires; the parts
grow to be too strong and break away. In Mexico and Bra-
zil, at least, and perhaps in much smaller measure in other
Latin American countries, the economy has grown out of
independence into rivalry. The resentment of the debtor
and the dependent have been replaced by the more vigor-
ous and self-respecting hostility of the rival. This is an
immense gain for the Latin American country. It is a
problem for American policy; will it end finally in gain
orloss to us?

The first essay, Mr. Gillin's survey of the general situa-
tion is, as already pointed out, an indication of the part
which is being played in all the various "revolutions" by
the growing middle mass. We may easily exaggerate the
similarity between this new industrially active and demo-
craticallv inclined group and our own dominant socio-
economic .group, the middle^ class_in_the United States. In
North America, that is, in the United States and Canada,
this class is not only typical, economically powerful, and
politically dominant, it is also the numerically largest com-

io Social Change in Latin America Today

ponent of the total populations. It does not need to have
ideological self-consciousness to determine the trends in
North American culture or North_American power.
Whetheror not it is manipulated by) capitalistic controlT^
ancTjstanTiardizing mass medial as some think, this im-
mense"group of men and women in the United States and
Canada has strong traits of generosity mixed with occa-
sional fits of parochialism, peacefulness with convulsive
fits of belligerence, tolerance with strange prejudices, and
friendliness tinged with suspicion. The government of the
United States has its own constituency as well as the Latin
Americans to deal with in solving the problems of hemi-
spheric brotherhood.

The new middle mass in Latin America is different in
ways that may persist for a long time. The frontier with
its individualistic ideals has persistently colored the ideals
of North America. In Latin America, feudalism, with the
emotional dependence of little men on their patrons and
strong personal bonds among persons of rigidly marked
class differences, will likewise persist. Mr. Gillin lists nine
dominant values which will be more or less carried over
into middle-mass life no matter how much shift there may
be to urban living and wage economies. They do not sound
like the values of an average North American and they are
not. The Latin American cares more than the North
I American tor personal dignity, for family cohesion and"
* feocial hierarchy,' perhaps even more for tangible posses-
sions, although materialism is a trait in both groups of cul-
tures. The other five values which are stronger in our
\ southern^neighbors than in ourselves are sr^wn~in; an in- J
I terest inspiritual experience and in^rnQtipnal pxpjgssj on , y
c a'TelTdency to fatalism, a strong sense of propriety_jor
decency in mode of life, [ang?"scorn for manual labor] ^
Our government is dominated by American middle-class
values. For it to deal generously and effectively with any
government which speaks honestly for a new middle mass
which holds these different values will take patient trans-
lation of cultural assumptions and a tolerance too deep

Introduction i 1

for condescension. The present gap in our understanding
is illustrated vividly in Mr. Holmberg's study of the proc-
esses and strains of social change among the Indians of
Peru.

In describing both the traditionally isolated and de-
pressed way of life of the Indians of the Peruvian high-
lands, Mr. Holmberg makes it clear that a do-nothing
policy carTonlv lead to social and political catastrophe. As
he and his Peruvian and North American colleagues have
demonstrated through their remarkable experiment in the
sierra community of Vicos, only an all-round integrated
approach to the entire complex or problems.— better pro-
duction, education, health care— can overmme_thej£thargy
left behind byj:enturies of neglect. And, aThis report shows
vividly, these goals canncjt_bg_ imposed from without by /
government, [however benevolent/ The ambition and the *
means to achieve them must oe assisted to grow from
within the community, through developing new concepts
and new types of local leadership.

In his essay on Bolivia, Mr. Patch makes two highly
significant points which bear on other parts of the South
American continent as well as on his chosen area of study.
First, he shows that incipient civil war in Bolivia has been
on the verge of developing into large-scale violence for the
reason that has been behind all the classical revolutionary
patterns in world Jiistory, land hunger. And his second
point, resting on thatTls that our government has never
realized the extent to which the real power in Bolivia now
rests ultimately in the hands jpT^hT^flm^yTnoytTre Tarm-
ers. They represent the bulk^of the people of Bolivia and
arecertain in the long run to havelheir own way.

We have not, Mr. Patch says, done a skillful job of help-
ing Bolivia get out of its deep economic morass up to now,
in spite of having spent large sums of money in aid. We
have not given our help in such a way as to improve the
actual living of the campesinoSj and they cannot see much
political value in a foreign system, like our kind nf democ-
racy, if it gives them no quick relief. Both the farmers and

12 Social Change in Latin America Today

the miners want immediate action, not long-range plans,
and they may wreck any scheme of intergovernmental co-
operation which sacrifices present needs to future possi-
bilities. The future of Bolivia, like the future of many
other parts of South America, may be brilliant; the critical
present must in the meantime be lived through.

Mr. Wagley's account of the changes in Brazil exempli-
fies most of the trends indicated in the general survey.
Much of the discomfort which makes tjiejirban and rural
proletaria^s_ojjrazil^litically^restless, and at least mildly
attracted to left-wing ideas, seems to come from social
changes rather than from intentionaj^exploitation . If more
pea^ants^come into the cities than can be housed and fed,
they will be disturbed even though their situation in the
s Fslums is better and more excitinglthan their ancient primi-
tive village life and they do nofwant to go home again.

It is not surprising perhaps that Mr. Adams tells us most
about the political or ideological shifts in Guatemala in
his description of the present state of that country. We
have read a good deal in newspaper accounts of political
governmental upheavals there and of Communist threats.
If there has been the possibility of a Communist salient in
the Western world it has been in part, Mr. Adams believes,
because we have made the mistake of vigorous action in
ignorance. It is the same story here as elsewhere. There is
no reason, Mr. Adams says, why we should "convey trie
| impression thaf~Guatemalans and other Latin Americans
\ ought to seek a gringo Utopia." But we create the imprest
-sion that this is what we expect because we have never
demonstrated a positive interest in the values held by the
Latins themselves.

In the Mexican essay, Mr. Lewis gives us a full docu-
mentation in brief compass of the assertion that hostilities
caused by dependence may change into hostilities caused
by rivalry. This sense of rivalry is not as fantastic as some
complacent northern neighbors might assume. Mr. Lewis
shows that the per capita increase in production is greater
in Mexico than it has been in the United States, and in

Introduction 13

spite of continuing bad distribution the whole population
is rising in its demands and in its purchasing power. Here
as elsewhere the middle mass grows and in spite of suffer-
ing and inequalities there is a fair promise of continuing
political governmental stability.

We can sum up the truth which we hope will be taken
into account by the makers of North American policy in
words used by Mr. Wagley. He applies them to Brazil;
they can be applied to all the countries south of the Rio
Grande: "... Only now is Brazil going through the same
kind of social and economic revolution that most Western
European countries experienced in the nineteenth cen-
tury. But with this important difference: Brazil is under-
going its revolution in the midst of the accelerated changes
and profound tensions of the mid-twentieth century."

The countries to the south of us_have the advantage of
our experience, the help of our capitaTand technical skills,
the stimulation of our nearby example. They have the dis-
advantages of mixed populations, ancjerit and deeply based
feudal customs, and poverty. Wej can help themjif we do
not overwhelm them with the wrong^kind of aid, by selfish
capital invasions, or with rigidly defined political ideas
which they cannot adapt to thelF^rfThThFing. There are
evidently principles which will guide a wise policy toward
the Latin countries as a group, modified, of course, by the
differences. These differences seem to be largely in the
stage that each has arrived at in the journey they are all
making in the one direction,|tqward freedomjand welfare.

One

SOME SIGNPOSTS FOR POLICY

by John P. Gillin

The social revolution which is under way in Latin Amer-
ica has explosive potentialities beside which the usual polit-
ical and military revolutions pale into insignificance.
Political instability is still evident, but political revolution
has ceased to be simply a normal and expected way for the
"outs" to take over from the "ins." "Outs" and "ins" alike
are beginning to develop both ideologies and programs de-
rived from them. Most important of all, a new and as yet
unconsolidated middle class is emerging. Its members are
developing effective leadership and power. They are recep-
tive to new ideas which are now reaching them through
modern means of communication, whether from within
their area or from abroad, whether from free-world sources
or the Soviet bloc.

The half-formed traditions of this new middle element
in Latin America are not made of the stuff from which
were forged modern Western democracy, free enterprise,
social responsibility, and all the other values and institu-
tions that are prized in the modern cultures of North
America or of Northern and Western Europe. The new
middle groups have a tradition of values peculiar to Latin

This essay is one result of a research grant made to Professor Gillin
in 1951 by the Carnegie Corporation of New York. The Carnegie Corpo-
ration is, of course, not responsible for the facts or for the opinions pre-
sented.

Some Signposts for Policy 15

America. Equipped with this set of mental or cultural
furniture, they face the ideologies and ambitions of the
competing forces of the outside world, now knocking
loudly on their doors.

I shall attempt here to highlight some underlying values
and some trends of change in the social and political situa-
tion of Latin America, and to indicate in a general way
their significance for the United States' relations with
Latin America now and in the next few years. Yet any such
attempt runs many hazards of criticism, if only through
being condensed into a few pages. After all, Latin America
comprises twenty republics, eighteen of which speak Span-
ish officially, one Portuguese, and one French. Many na-
tional and regional details and differences have necessarily
been omitted in this brief discussion, which is devoted to
clarifying certain patterns characteristic of the Latin Amer-
ican area as a whole.

For the United States' relations with Latin America—
whether public or private— the problem is, basically, to
bring North American and Latin American points of view
into common focus or to get them on a common wave
length— to borrow these terms from another field. Those
elements which are opposed to the strengthening of friend-
ship and cooperation within the hemisphere try to per-
suade people everywhere that the positions and interests of
the United States and Latin America are in basic opposi-
tion to each other. An objective analysis of the underlying
values indicates, I believe, that this is not the case.

It is true, of course, that U.S. and Latin American tradi-
tions differ in many particulars, including not only super-
ficialities but also some aspects that lie below the surface.
It is all the more essential for North Americans to under-
stand how the world looks when examined from the point
of view of the emerging leadership in Latin America. An
error common to most of us, especially when dealing with
members of distant cultural groups, is to assume either that
the other fellow sees things just the way we do or that, if he
does not, there must be "something wrong with him." This

16 Social Change in Latin America Today

can produce serious difficulties if it governs the formation
of national policy or far-reaching private activities abroad.
This habit of mind tends to distort reliable predictions of
what the foreign peoples and nations will do and thus may
lead to the adoption of inappropriate and ineffective poli-
cies.

In recent years the U.S. Department of State has made a
notable effort to remove the "blinders" imposed by our
own culture and outlook. A good example is found in an
analysis of the situation in Guatemala which was prepared
by the Division of Intelligence Research after the situa-
tion there had reached a critical stage in 1954.1 Ten years
before, in 1944, the thirteen-year-old dictatorship of Jorge
Ubico in Guatemala had been overthrown in a revolution
which U.S. policy-makers apparently interpreted as merely
another routine Latin American "changing of the guard/
As a matter of fact, it marked the beginning of an attempt
at a basic social and cultural revolution, though at first it
was not associated with Communist ideas or groups. How-
ever, in large part because of the United States' failure to
perceive and respond to the new situation, Communists
and fellow travelers had succeeded by 1952 in infiltrating
and practically taking over the government. The new chal-
lenge this posed was clearly stated in this study of 1954,
which put its finger on one very important aspect of the
awakening of Latin America, the source of much of its
leadership in pressing for change. In 1944, most of the
active leaders of the revolution were between nineteen and
thirty-seven years of age; three, in fact, were only nineteen
in 1944. "All of these young men had much the same back-
ground: they were of mixed Spanish-Indian blood; their
families were relatively poor, and they had attained an edu-
cational level higher than the average Guatemalan in these
circumstances." As the study points out: "The appeal of
communism to this group may be traced to its frustration
at the failure of the Guatemalan community to make sub-

1 Intervention of International Communism in Guatemala, Depart-
ment of State publication 5556 (Washington: GPO, 1954).

Some Signposts for Policy 17

stantial progress for at least two generations prior to World
War II in adjusting its political, social, and economic
structure in harmony with the ideals of the modern
world." 2

. . . Guatemala assimilated in the late nineteenth and first
part of the twentieth centuries some of the technological
advances of the outer world. . . . The middle class which
evolved to furnish the merchants, professional men, educators,
and technicians to service these assimilations had the most
contacts with the outside world and became the social stratum
most conscious of Guatemala's social backwardness. However,
this class eventually divided into one segment which was
drawn to the idea of progress by evolutionary means and an-
other segment drawn to reform by revolutionary means. The
majority of the middle class obtained in the years 1871-1944
a sufficient stake in the economy to be content to hope for
modernization by evolutionary means. The minority, made up
of those "intellectual" elements such as schoolteachers, whose
resentment of Guatemala's backwardness was sharpened by
lack of ties to the existing structure, became something of an
insoluble lump in the Guatemalan social organism. . . . Frus-
trated in their desire to provide ideological orientation to an
evolutionary society, they lived traditionless on the periphery
of the national life, often with makeshift personal lives and
prey to the facile "isms" which seemed to provide a formula
for quick solution to the problems they perceived.3

If, in Guatemala, U.S. policy-makers had perceived the
new facts in 1944 rather than in 1954 and had adopted
a new policy based on them, international communism
would probably not have been able to establish a beach-
head there, and many headaches, as well as present diffi-
culties in other parts of Latin America, could have been
avoided. In 1954 the late Colonel Carlos Castillo Armas
led a maneuver from the neighboring republic of Hon-
duras which forcefully ejected the Communists and their
followers from positions of power in Guatemala. However,

2 Same, pp. 47, 41.

3 Same, p. 43.

18 Social Change in Latin America Today

it is still widely believed throughout Latin America that
the U.S. government or its agents engineered and financed
this "liberacion," and this belief has been exploited so
successfully by Communist and other antagonists of the
United States that the "Yankee Colossus" has suffered a
severe loss of prestige. Many Latin Americans, stimulated
and abetted by propaganda hostile to the United States,
have interpreted the "liberacion" of 1954 as a reversion
on the part of the United States to the use of force for re-
moving a weak regime which is distasteful to it.

What was needed after the Guatemalan revolution of
1944 was a positive U.S. policy that would have recognized
the seriousness of the shift in leadership and would have
attempted to win the confidence of the idealistic but in-
experienced architects of "the New Guatemala." The series
of mistakes which resulted in the increasingly strained
relations between the two countries between 1945 and 1954
have now largely been recognized and have produced a
more realistic U.S. approach to the Latin American situa-
tion.

The modern world has learned that change is inevitable
and also that it can be terribly upsetting when it arrives
unforeseen. For this reason it is important for us to examine
more closely some of the old traditions and new trends in
Latin American societies that are bound to have an impor-
tant influence on the United States' future relations with
that crucial area.

Race and Society

The Iberian conquerors found in the New World a
variety of native tribes and civilizations, to which they gave
the name "Indian." In a few regions of Latin America, the
natives were so few— and their cultures so weak— that the
invaders, in effect, eliminated them, either by extermina-
tion or by shunting the survivors off to reservations or
fringe areas. Native Indians, either by blood or culture,
are today an insignificant element in the nations of
Argentina, Uruguay, Costa Rica, and Chile, whose popula-

Some Signposts for Policy 19

tions are predominantly "white" in racial type. Even in
these countries there are, of course, some mestizos (people
of mixed Indian and white heredity), and these countries,
like all Latin America, have received certain cultural con-
tributions from the Indians, such as domesticated plants,
folk beliefs, and additions to the language. In several Latin
American nations, including Mexico, Guatemala, Ecuador,
Peru, Bolivia, and Paraguay, Indians constitute a large and
recognizable segment of the population. In all other coun-
tries, except Cuba and the Dominican Republic, the
Indian element, although smaller, is still visible.

According to accepted Latin American definitions and
practices, "recognized Indians" are not considered mem-
bers of the various national societies or cultures. The
custom, in Spanish, of speaking of the Indians in terms of
race (raza) is confusing to North Americans. In Spanish-
American countries Indians are regarded as a separate race,
not because of any distinguishable physical characteristics,
but because they have a different culture and social status
as compared with recognized or Europeanized members of
the national society.

In most countries many prominent people are as "In-
dian" in their inherited physical traits as any recognized
tribal member. Conversely, any member of an Indian tribe
or community may be accepted into the national society,
usually on the basis of three accomplishments. He must
learn to speak the national language, Spanish or Portu-
guese, fluently. He must adopt European-type clothing.
And he must move away from a recognized Indian tribe
or community and settle in a city, town, or village con-
sidered to be national— i.e., Spanish or Portuguese— in its
culture. If he adopts these new "European" ways while
remaining on his home ground, everyone will say that he
is "just an Indian trying to be a Peruvian" (or whatever
the national adjective may be). Elsewhere he will be ac-
cepted, provided he takes on the symbols of the national
culture. So long as they cling to their native language and
costume and remain affiliated with their aboriginal tribe

20 Social Change in Latin America Today

or community, Indians are usually not able to contract
recognized marriages with the members of the national
community or engage in other activities typical of full
membership in the national society.

It is thus obvious that "recognized Indians," so long as
they remain in that status, do not form a part of modern
Latin American society. Not only do they lack social status
within the national system, but also they are usually denied
effective political or economic influence, with the one ex-
ception of Bolivia. The difference in racial definitions in
Latin America compared with the southern region of the
United States is obvious. A Negro in the South cannot
change his individual social status, defined by a visible
factor, color of skin. In Latin America, on the other hand,
an Indian, provided he gives up his cultural identification
with the aborigines, can be readily accepted into the na-
tional structure, although at first his position may place
him in its lower classes.

Recognized tribal or community Indians thus form a
part of the total population in most Latin American
countries, yet they are not included in the national social
structure. However, even while they remain in their self-
contained tribal or community groups, Indians may be
"swung" or influenced by middle-class leaders. For ex-
ample, in 1951 I became acquainted in Ecuador with at
least the leading elements of a group of 30,000 "Commu-
nist" Indians. Representative members affirmed emphat-
ically, "Yes, we are Communists." When I sat down to talk
with them, I discovered that they did not know who Stalin
was, where or what Russia was, or what Marx had said.
But they did want their own pieces of land and were against
the large landowners who, they felt, had abused them.
Responding to the Indians' known grievances, several
avowed middle-class Communists from the capital city,
Quito, had taught them that they were "Communists."

Perhaps ten million persons still live as recognized In-
dians, in a total Latin American population of about 180
million. As such, they are not effective members of their

Some Signposts for Policy 21

respective national societies and do not provide national
leadership, except in Bolivia. Unless some radical changes
occur in long-established patterns, they will continue to be
absorbed gradually, contributing their genes and some of
their culture traits to the nations where they live.

The other principal non-European element, important
in parts of Lacin America, is of Negro background. People
of Negroid stock live in appreciable numbers in all the
Caribbean republics and everywhere along the Caribbean
littoral. They are also numerous in Brazil, parts of Colom- .
bia, and Ecuador. Because the Latin American definition
of "race" is based on cultural traits rather than physical
differences, Negroids, generally speaking, have been as-
similated into the national societies.4 Otherwise, race in
the physical sense is of little social or cultural significance.
To be sure, a few families in the "Indian countries" claim
to be "pure" white descendants of the Conquistadores, but
their pretensions are usually considered something of a
joke, even by their social peers. In all Latin American
countries one can point to persons of mixed racial in-
heritance who hold prominent positions in politics and
economic life, although they are proportionately less nu-
merous in the countries of predominantly European settle-
ment. Racial purity in the genetic sense is not an important
value in present-day Latin America as a whole.

Class and Society

Under colonial rule and for some fifty to seventy-five
years following the achievement of independence, Latin
America was dominated by a fairly rigid two-class system—
a landowning aristocracy claiming descent from the Con-
quistador es, and a lower class composed mainly of peasants
and domestic servants. From the first, however, there were

4 In Brazil, darker- colored Negroids tend to lower-class status in
larger proportions than lighter- colored Negroids; see Charles Wagley, ed.,
Race and Class in Rural Brazil (Paris: UNESCO, 1952), p. 8, and else-
where.

22 Social Change in Latin America Today

small numbers of petty merchants, scribes, artisans, apothe-
caries, and other persons who occupied a middle position.
As racial intermingling proceeded, large numbers of mesti-
zos, mulattoes, and other mixed types appeared, some of
whom likewise assumed middle status, which was also open
to "pure" Indians who acquired education and "civilized"
culture. Beginning in the latter half of the nineteenth
century many countries— notably Argentina, Brazil and
Chile— also received large numbers of European immi-
grants, most of whom found their way into the middle
layers of society. The middle category was recruited from
many sources, including members of the old upper class
who, having lost their landed fortunes, now entered busi-
ness, the bureaucracy, or the liberal professions on a par
with their less blue-blooded associates.

Today, at least two lower classes can be identified: (1)
peasants and agricultural laborers, and (2) industrial
workers, including factory workers and labor employed in
extractive industries. The distinguishing features of the
lower class as a whole are that it earns its living by manual
labor and is less than completely literate. The agricultural
lower class falls generally into several subclasses: peasants
who own miniscule properties providing at least part of
their livelihood; workers on old-style family-owned planta-
tions; and laborers on modern industrialized farms.5

In addition, in most countries two upper classes can be
distinguished. One of these comprises the members of
the old landowning aristocracy or its remnants. For it,
abolengo— descent based on antiquity and class purity
of hereditary lines— is of fundamental importance. The
other is what may be called the new upper class, composed
mainly of self-made men and their families and descend-
ants, persons who, either in business or politics or a com-
bination of both, have accumulated fortunes enabling
them to live on a luxurious scale of comfort and conspicu-
ous consumption. More important is the fact that this new

5 Charles Wagley and Marvin Harris, "Typology of Latin American
Subcultures," American Anthropologist, June 1955, pp. 428-451.

Some Signposts for Policy 23

upper class runs or owns most of the larger business enter-
prises not controlled by foreign corporations. In some cases
these people are also associated with foreign concerns and
hence are identified with foreign business interests. In any
event, their upper-class position rests on their extensive
power, mainly economic. Most managers and smaller busi-
nessmen, lacking such obvious power, are rated in the
middle segment, though often in its upper brackets.

Both old and new upper classes are distinguished from
other segments of society in that both claim power and
prestige, although of different types. Apart from these
common characteristics, however, the landed and the
moneyed upper classes are often opposed in many of their
interests. The landed class, which can usually be entered
only through birth or marriage, tends to conserve the semi-
feudalistic values of colonial times. While the moneyed
upper class comprises a diversity of interests, it is in
general open to all those who can achieve success within
the structure of power and influence. Those segments of
it which draw their profits from the internal consumer
market are interested in promoting higher living standards
and in developing new wants among the general popula-
tion.

The new upper class usually has no close alliance with
the church, which has been one of the bastions of the
landed class. It exerts its power and influence through
newly planned structures, such as business organizations,
and it is inclined to regard these as flexible rather than
rigid. In general, the new upper class is much more open
to innovation from the outside world than is the landed
upper class, especially in business methods, modern tech-
nology, and sophistication of manners and mores. Since
most of the self-made men have risen from the middle
segment of society, they also share many of the values and
confusions of the much more numerous middle groups.

24 Social Change in Latin America Today

A Class in Search of a Future

Between the boundaries of the upper and lower classes
there lies a large and growing middle segment. An un-
consolidated and somewhat unstable layer of society, its
members nevertheless hold a traditional ethos and have
access to the press, radio, television, mails, and other media
of mass communication. They have had sufficient educa-
tion to be influenced by and to influence the larger outside
world. Above all, they aspire to a better life and to progress,
however vaguely these concepts may be defined. In the
process of defining these aspirations more precisely and
putting them into effect, the Latin American middle class
is also a prime target for ideological propagandists of all
shades from the outside world.

The middle groups embrace a wide social span, from the
country schoolteacher, with two white shirts to his name,
and the village storekeeper, barely able to tot up his
accounts and scan his weekly newspaper, to regular army
officers, managers of business concerns in the provincial
and national capitals, university professors of international
renown, and members of cabinets. Its emergence has been
stimulated by the spread of education and by expanding
opportunities in trade and industry, coupled with a con-
stantly increasing need for literate and technically trained
people in both government and private enterprises. Today,
practically all prominent politicians, whether military or
civilian, are of middle background.

Despite the wide differences in their economic standing
and power, all members of the middle segments bear cer-
tain hallmarks. They are set off from the lower classes by
their disdain for manual labor as a means of earning a liv-
ing and by their literacy. In addition, they strive for a
certain minimum of "decency" (decencia, decoro) in their
standard of living, beyond what the lower classes consider
necessary. This involves at least one outfit of European-
style clothing in presentable condition, as distinguished
from workmen's clothes, a dwelling with its floors made of

Some Signposts for Policy 25

something better than packed earth, and the possession
and use of furniture and table service of "decent" (as dis-
tinguished from Indian and peasant) pattern. The value
of material possessions as symbols is at least as important as
their direct utility. For example, middle-group families
will often spend money for proper furnishings and dinner
services for the entertainment of guests before they con-
sider buying household conveniences or automobiles.

The middle segments are distinguished from the upper
strata of society by the absence of any claim to power based
on either distinguished ancestry (abolengo) or great wealth.
* Formerly, most persons of middle status aspired to copy
the way of life of the old aristocracy. During the past
quarter-century, as their numbers have grown and their
spokesmen have become more articulate, an awareness of
their own importance has begun to appear.

Despite the absence of precise statistics, available data
suggest that, for Latin America as a whole, the middle
strata constitute just under 20 per cent of the national
society (exclusive of Indians). The estimates of the Pan
American Union Series range from 8 per cent for Venezuela
to 50 per cent for Uruguay.6

Latin America is experiencing the decay of an old class
system and the growing pains of a new one. In the middle
groups the lack of class consciousness and of a sense of
belonging has been remarked by almost all observers. The
Latin middle segments as yet lack an explicit and self-
conscious "ideology" which is "spelled out" and fairly well
known to most members, as is the case with the Western
European and North American bourgeoisie or middle class.
Speaking of the "middle class" in Bolivia, Humberto Palza
reports: "Psychologically, it does not feel itself a class nor

6 Estimates of the middle class by twenty-nine experts from Latin
America itself are available in Theo R. Crevenna, ed., Materiales para el
estudio de la close media en la America latina, 6 v. (Washington: Pan
American Union, 1950-51); statistical studies of Mexico are available in
Jose" E. Iturriaga, La estructura social y cultural de Mexico (Mexico City:
Fondo de Cultura Econ6mica, 1951); and of Argentina in Gino Germani,
Estructura social de la Argentina (Buenos Aires: Editorial Raigal, 1955).

26 Social Change in Latin America Today

act as such; in other words, it has no consciousness of its
condition." 7 In Chile, says Abarca, "Formed of such heter-
ogeneous professional and economic elements, the middle
class has no ideological homogeneity. Although the ma-
jority has a center position, its members evoke quarrels and
[flaunt an] egotism, which, if but properly channeled, will
give rise to a striving for excellence." 8

The same "unconsolidated" condition is found in the
embryonic "middle classes" in many underdeveloped re-
gions. The London conference in 1955, of the Institut
International des Civilisations Differentes, concluded that
it did "... not find it possible to reach any completely
satisfactory definition of the term 'middle classes'. ... It is
probable that the concept . . . has a different content in
different parts of the tropical and subtropical world, and
may vary from time to time in the evolution even of one
country." 9

Despite their apparent heterogeneity, the middle groups
constitute beyond doubt the segment of society most in
touch with the modern world, most susceptible to influ-
ences for change, and most potent in the internal and inter-
national affairs of their own nation. Not only are most
professional politicians and army officers from the middle
strata; so are practically all intellectuals— writers, painters,
journalists, actors, radio and television performers and
producers, professors, schoolteachers, doctors, lawyers,
scientists, "pundits," and "thinkers." These articulate peo-
ple speak to the outside world for Latin America, and the
outside world must speak to Latin America through them.
They supply most of the wordage that passes through the
media of communication— books, newspapers, radio, tele-
vision, domestically made motion pictures— and, not least,
the formal educational systems.

Furthermore, all clerical and white-collar workers, as

7 Crevenna, cited, v. 3, p. 13.

8 Same, v. 6, p. 66.

9 Ivor Bulmer Thomas, "Conclusions de la 29/5 session de 1TNCIDI,"

Civilisations (Brussels), no. 3, 1955, p. 481.

Some Signposts for Policy 27

well as most technicians, mechanics, engineers, farm ex-
tension workers, social workers, nurses, hygienists, and
government servants, regardless of administrative rank, are
of this middle segment. Finally, labor leaders of national
importance are middle-status people. They may start out
in life as proletarians, but they must normally acquire the
skills and symbols of at least lower middle-class status if
they are to act effectively on the national scene.

Although middle-status groups are often riven by con-
flicts, ideological and economic, the members of one seg-
ment have in common the fact that they live from salaries
or relatively fixed fees, rather than from income-producing
property of their own. Another sector of the middle class
comprises owners of small to medium-sized businesses,
farm owners, and the upper level of salesmen (as distinct
from plaza market sellers and peddlers). Businessmen may
range from the owner of a small store or mine to the
salaried manager of a large enterprise. They are sometimes
at loggerheads, depending on whether they are primarily
producers or distributors, on whether the goods they
handle are mainly imported or produced within the coun-
try for local consumption or for export, and so on. As a
group, however, they have more in common with each
other than with the owners of medium-sized farms. The
latter do not work their land, unlike lower-class landown-
ing peasants. Neither do they operate large estates, unlike
the landed aristocracy or the commercial companies pro-
ducing for export. A white-collar salesman usually does
not have an investment in his employer's business, but,
being paid on commission, he has a financial interest in
the success of the enterprise. All of these business-oriented
people, in contrast to the professional and white-collar
personnel, have in common an interest in private property
and free enterprise.

Thus, there appear to be two large blocs within the
middle strata— the salaried and professional people, and
those" with a direct stake in private property and free enter-
prise. At present the first far outnumbers the second.

28 Social Change in Latin America Today

The "blocs" are in most parts unorganized and only dimly
aware of their own positions. In effect, each is a bundle
of splinters, and many splinters of each bundle are en-
tangled with those of the other. For example, a doctor may
own a drugstore or a private hospital on the side. All of
the "salaried and fee" conglomeration acquire land when
they can. Within the business and farming bloc, there is
little agreement on the proper role of private property and
"free enterprise." Urban middle-group people tend to look
down on those from the provinces and rural areas. Divi-
sions within the middle strata are usually more obvious
today than common points of view or a readiness for con-
certed action. Nevertheless, below the surface a certain
common set of traditional cultural values tends to unite
the members of the middle segments.

The Middle Segments and Their Values

The values which are held in common and "taken for
granted" by most members of the middle sectors in Latin
America determine how they decide among alternatives
offered by competing cultural and political systems of the
outside world. They also serve to define a set of attitudes
that distinguishes the Latin American middle strata from
the middle classes of the United States and Western
Europe. These controlling values may be grouped, for con-
venience, under several rubrics: personalism, kinship, hier-
archy or stratification, materialism of a special kind,
transcendentalism or interest in "spiritual values," the
high worth of inner states and emotional expression, and
fatalism. Two other values of the middle class have already
been mentioned— "decency" in mode of life, and disdain
for manual labor.

The controlling values of a culture perform many func-
tions in a society. They provide a way of looking at the
world and at people. They furnish those who hold them
with a set of beliefs which explain, as it were, the structures
and functions of what is perceived. They set out one or

Some Signposts for Policy 29

more approved goals toward which human effort ought to
be channeled within that part of life with which each value
is concerned.

PERSONALISM, A CENTRAL VALUE

Both North Americans and Latin Americans place a
high value on individuality and "the person." The use of
similar words in English, Portuguese, and Spanish tends
to conceal the profound differences between their actual
meanings. To put the differences succinctly, the North
American credo holds, at least ideally, to the notion of
equality of opportunity. Each individual has inherently
equal rights and supposedly each has an equal chance with
every other. The culture places a heavy emphasis upon the
external or social equality of persons. It implies that any
claim to uniqueness must be proved by achievements of a
socially approved type. In the United States the cultural
definition of "the person" lays great emphasis upon the
broad similarities among various social types. Individual
differences, if disapproved, may lead to various types of
social punishment; if approved, they may result in con-
ferring "distinction" for greater than average achievement.

In Latin American culture the value emphases are quite
different. Although most middle-status Latin Americans
hold the Rights of Man in high verbal esteem, the under-
lying emphasis is upon the inherent uniqueness of each
person. The individual is valued precisely because he is not
exactly "like" anyone else. Each individual merits respect
because of his unique inner worth, regardless of the social
form it may take. This is the fundamental meaning of
respetar (to respect), a word widely used in American
Spanish to describe one's relations with others.

The inner essence of the person is usually spoken of as
the "soul" or "spirit" (alma, dnima, espiritu), and Latin
Americans are usually not at all loath to discuss this sub-
ject at length. This makes for misunderstanding on the
part of North Americans, because in their current usage
they usually feel uncomfortable in using words like "soul"

30 Social Change in Latin America Today

or "spirit" when discussing living individuals, except per-
haps in intimate discussions with priests or ministers of the
Gospel.

The idea that each person merits respect for his inner
worth and integrity does not hinder the complementary
recognition of social position, of dignity of office, or of an
established hierarchy of persons and "things." However,
a Latin American, when first confronting an unfamiliar
individual, typically "sees" in him a "soul" whose essence
he must endeavor to understand and respect for what it is.

Each person has a certain endowment of dignity, honor,
and valor which merits respect from others and which he
must safeguard at all cost, even death. This is the value
usually described as dignidad de la persona, literally,
"dignity of the person." It refers, however, to inner dignity,
rather than to social or other outward prestige. Originally,
no doubt, the influence of the Catholic Church, with its
strong emphasis upon the soul, contributed heavily to the
definition of this value. As a part of the middle-strata cul-
ture, it has now lost any exclusively religious connotation
and has become a secular guide to conduct.

The Ecuadorian writer, Benites, explains in sociological
terms the heavy emphasis upon the "soul." To the socially
insecure Spaniards who conquered America, says Benites,
one's own person, one's soul, was the most tangible reality.
"It was the mystique of a marginal class which wished to
mark off its individuality. . . . Dignidad is the formulation
of a marginal class insecure in its social position." 10 An-
other Ecuadorian writer, Perez Guerrero, describes Latin
Americans as "individualists," but in a manner different
from North Americans. There is an "exaltation of the I,
which does not perceive itself as a unit in the group, but
as the whole group itself. Pride and dignidad are exagger-
ated, and the group serves as a pedestal for the self." n
Essentially, the same is true of Mexicans, according to Itur-

10 Leopoldo Benites Vinueza, Ecuador: Drama y paradoja (Mexico
City: Fondo de Cultura Economica, 1950), pp. 52-54, 86.

11 Alfredo P<hez Guerrero, Ecuador (Quito: Casa de la Cultura Ecua-
toriana, 1948), p. 74.

Some Signposts for Policy 31

riaga. "The Mexican," he states, "is not gregarious, but
individualistic, and, as a consequence, he often lacks the
spirit of collaboration. His unsociability and asperity un-
fit him to live with others without friction or to work
creatively as a member of a team." 12 These observations,
quoted more or less at random among many statements by
Latin Americans, carry a critical tone, but they reflect the
awareness among middle-group writers of the value at-
tached to the inner person.

The emphasis on personalism means that words or ac-
tions interpreted as insults to the individual's inner worth
are highly explosive in their effects. They may evoke an
intense emotional reaction, with verbal or physical vio-
lence, or else a sullen resentment, a refusal to cooperate,
and a devious search for "revenge." For this reason per-
haps, American Spanish and Portuguese idioms contain
elaborately precautionary patterns of ceremonial politeness
which are in constant use as a buffer between all but the
closest of friends and kinsmen.

Various types of admired personalities are derived from
the high value attached to "personalism." The macho
(literally, "male") type is highly valued. The macho is ex-
pected to show sexual prowess, zest for action, including
verbal "action," daring, and, above all, absolute self-confi-
dence. He may express his inner convictions by resorting
to physical force, as in the case of bandits and revolution-
ary military leaders, or he may do so verbally as a leading
intellectual, lawyer, or politician. Not all machos are cau-
dillos (leaders), but all caudillos must be machos. In poli-
tics, a man is not commonly elected or acclaimed to office
because he represents the social, economic, and political
positions of his followers, but because he embodies in his
own personality those inner qualities that they feel in
themselves and they would like to manifest, had they but
the talent to do so, in their own actions.13 Of course, some

12 Cited, pp. 233-234.

13 Cf. Rene de Visme Williamson, Culture and Policy: The United
States and the Hispanic World (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press,

1949)-

32 Social Change in Latin America Today

of the same charismatic qualities attach to leaders else-
where. Yet, over the long run, in contrast to Latin Amer-
ica, North American followers or constituents seem to be
more strongly motivated by rational or pragmatic judg-
ments in choosing their leaders, when considered in pros-
pect or on the basis of performance.

Traditionally, for the middle-status individual, only
those with whom he feels an intimate, personal relation-
ship are trustworthy. Personal friendship, plus a kinship
relationship of some kind, is essential for "getting some-
thing done." The impersonal confidence which, say, a
customer has toward a salesman of a large, established
corporation in the United States is not yet a general feature
of the middle-status pattern. This is one reason why the
forms of democracy which exist throughout Latin Amer-
ica, borrowed in the first instance from the United States
or the French Declaration of the Rights of Man, seem to
have little effect on actual political behavior. Similarly,
any "program," such as Point Four, requires the "personal
touch" if it is to succeed. North American administrators
and experts, regardless of their personal competence, will
have little success in their dealings with the middle seg-
ments unless they are able to develop personal confidence
and evoke simpatia.

It is notoriously difficult in Latin America to float large
issues of stocks and bonds, only in part because of the
scarcity of investment funds. Repeated studies have shown
that many individuals and families with funds available
for investment are loath to use them to buy "mere pieces of
paper." Unless they know personally and understand the
individuals involved, they lack confidence in them. The
same attitude accounts for much of the political instability
in Latin America. In the middle-status pattern of values,
it is only natural for political actions to be governed by
personalistic considerations, rather than by adherence to
"principles," party platforms, and similar abstractions.
The reliance on persons is, of course, open to exploitation
by politicians, who, by personalistic attacks upon the digni-

Some Signposts for Policy 33

dad of their opponents, can block the kinds of compromise
which in the United States and England are regarded as
one of the mainstays of the democratic process.

THE STRENGTH OF FAMILY TIES

The personal intimacy that a middle-status Latin Ameri-
can requires in his social dealings with other individuals is
bolstered by the persistent patterns of kinship. Generally
speaking, he feels that members of his family or of a larger
kin group understand his inner uniqueness and provide
the sort of intimate contact that does not require him to
"keep up his guard." Kin relationships traditionally in-
clude a wide range of persons related by blood or marriage.
In addition, there are usually strong ties to the "ceremonial
kin," through the compadrazgo (co-godparenthood). Even
now, the middle-status family in Latin America tends to
include a much wider circle of relatives than is at present
common in the United States. The average person is often
in fairly intimate contact with a large number of kinsmen
of several generations and of various degrees of "remove"
on "either side." The small immediate family, consisting
only of husband, wife, and minor children, and isolated
from most other kinsmen, is still an anomaly even in urban
life.

Originally the family was patriarchal, with the father
officially in absolute authority and with the mother and
unmarried females restricted in their close contacts with
males to their relatives and members of the clergy. During
courtship, unmarried girls were always carefully chaper-
oned. Married men and boys carried on much of their
social life outside the home, with groups of other men at
bars or clubs, or with their mistresses or in houses of pros-
titution. Sons of the family were usually "spoiled" from a
middle-class North American point of view. Married
women, on the other hand, although restricted in their so-
cial and intellectual contacts, necessarily were trained to a
role of responsibility, for they were the practical adminis-
trators of the household. This traditional pattern is break-

34 Social Change in Latin America Today

ing down among the more advanced and upward-mobile
members of the middle segments, especially in the larger
towns and cities.

One of the important trends is the emergence of women
as significant figures in public life, a phenomenon so far
confined almost entirely to the women of the middle
groups. Yet, few "emancipated" women have cut them-
selves off from a large net of kinfolk, and kinship of all
types is more highly valued by both sexes than among
middle-class urbanites in the United States. Even in large
cities, a person without kin, such as an abandoned orphan,
is regarded as one of the most pitiable of human beings.
And it is not mere politeness that customarily leads a Latin
American to greet a friend, even on the street, with a
stream of questions about the health and doings of wife,
children, father, mother, and numerous other kindred.
The inquirer is often genuinely interested in his friend's
relatives as individuals. More important, he also sees his
friend as part of a kin group and knows that his personal
welfare and state of mind are influenced by those of his
kinsmen.

THE IMPORTANCE OF HIERARCHY

For the Latin American, the universe, including human
society, has traditionally been arranged in a series of strata,
and the culture is still strongly influenced by the values
which he attaches to hierarchy. The political, social, and
religious structures of the colonial era were highly strati-
fied. A rigid political structure, ultimately controlled from
the Iberian peninsula, imposed upon the colonies a system
of political ranks and powers. Most office-holders were sent
out from the home country without consultation with the
colonists. Although this system was more rigid in the
Spanish domains than in Brazil, there also the local people
had to "look upward" in the political sense. Even under
the republics, political thinking and action were molded so
strongly by this structure that some observers regard it

Some Signposts for Policy

even now as a controlling value.14 The stratification of
political power was reinforced by the traditional pattern of
social class and caste. And while the church has always
insisted upon the equality of all human souls before God,
the heavenly scheme and the terrestrial ministry are alike
arranged in explicitly hierarchical orders.

Under the weight of this tradition, it is not surprising
that the typical middle-status individual sees most things
on a scale ranging from "lower" to "higher." At first
glance, this emphasis on hierarchy seems to contradict the
value attached to personalism or inner uniqueness. But the
distinctive worth of each individual has nothing to do with
his social position or his recognized distinction; advance-
ment in the hierarchy may come, although not necessarily
so, as the result of fulfilling one's unique potentialities. In
contrast with the United States' credo, Latin Americans do
not believe that all men are born "equal." You cannot be
equal to anyone else in your inner essence when, by defini-
tion, you and everyone else are "unique." It is also obvious
that, from the point of view of social rank, everyone is not
equal.

For at least the last hundred years the idea has been gain-
ing ground that the ranks of the human hierarchies on this
earth are "open," rather than preordained, and this is, of
course, demonstrated above all by the emergence of the
middle segments. The liberal revolutions and constitutions
of the last quarter of the nineteenth century opened the
doors of law and politics to increasing numbers of middle-
status people and to the eventual appearance of the new
upper class. And it is certainly true that the concept of
equality of opportunity as a right of the citizen is spreading
throughout Latin America.

Despite these trends, the controlling concept of hier-
archy still explains much of the behavior of the middle

i4Blanksten sees the political system of Ecuador, as late as 1948, as
"monarchy in republican dress"; George I. Blanksten, Ecuador: Constitu-
tions and Caudillos (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1951), p.
169, and elsewhere.

36 Social Change in Latin America Today

groups. It is reflected, for example, in the strong sense of
social position, in the pattern of "decency" of living stand-
ard, valued as much or more for symbolic than utilitarian
values. A very important role is still played by the patron
system, or its modern variants, as a substitute for a more
general sense of social responsibility. In Latin America the
old aristocracy did not cultivate the patterns of noblesse
oblige j as was the case in England, and perhaps one conse-
quence has been the continuing absence of any real feeling
of community responsibility. Although Rotary Interna-
tional and similar "service clubs" have been organized
among upper-level middle-status businessmen in the larger
cities, the notion of the "more fortunate" elements of so-
ciety actually getting down to a man-to-man basis with the
"more unfortunate" in order to help them is virtually
unknown.

The patron relationship was originally a reciprocal ar-
rangement tying members of various social strata together,
in terms not of social or economic equality, but of recip-
rocal obligations of an unequal sort. On a typical hacienda
(plantation) or ranch, the owner was, and usually still is,
patron to his workers or tenants. They owe him a certain
amount of work, variously calculated, in return for his
supplying them with housing, tools, and perhaps individ-
ual plots of land. They also owe him a certain loyalty in
disputes and other difficulties. In return he acts as their
"protector" in brushes with the law and with higher au-
thority. The custom by which patrones serve as godfathers
to the children of their more faithful retainers sets up a
solemn tie of ceremonial kinship, which in a way defines
the whole enterprise as "one big family," although social
equality is by no means implied. The patron, nonetheless,
is expected to take a personal interest in the welfare of his
workers or tenants and their families. He knows them by
their first names, attends them or sends them aid when
they are ill, and contributes to their fiestas. Essentially the
same sort of relationship has been traditional in handicraft
shops, mines, and small factories. The patron or "pro-

Some Signposts for Policy

tector" idea permeates most sectors of the middle category.

Small pair ones usually have patrones of their own— "big-
ger" and more powerful men upon whom they can rely and
who serve them as protectors and as contacts in commu-
nicating with the higher political, social, or economic
powers. A distributor of merchandise is often in a patron-
like relationship with his retail tradesmen, a manufacturer
with his suppliers of raw materials, an employer of seasonal
workers with his labor recruiters (enganchadores). In pub-
lic service and political employment the system is especially
strong. Every public employee tries to gain a "protector"
in the higher levels of the administration simply as a form
of job insurance, if not in the hope of promotion.

The armed forces, although organized hierarchically in
Latin America as elsewhere, appear to constitute one of the
few graded systems of social status in Latin American so-
ciety in which the patron relationship is relatively weak,
possibly because the common soldiers are conscripted for a
limited term of service and therefore are not in any con-
tinuing relationship with their superiors. However, career
officers, whether commissioned or noncommissioned, usu-
ally try to develop patron relationships with superiors.

Presidents of republics, whether dictatorial or demo-
cratic, are expected to play the patron role toward their
constituents. For this reason, they are usually available for
several hours each week to any citizens, no matter how
lowly their stations in life, who wish to see them in person.

Large business enterprises and large bureaucracies can-
not preserve the personal relationship between the patron
and his clients. Nevertheless, the hierarchical outlook re-
mains, and with it the expectation that someone or some-
thing "higher up" owes one certain obligations. As a con-
sequence, the state has had to make some gestures toward
filling this void, and it has moved to do so through devel-
oping labor codes, with appropriate machinery for super-
vising them, social security programs, free health and
hospital services, public housing programs, and the like.
Much of the leadership and all the administrative person-

38 Social Change in Latin America Today

nel for the development of the new "public patron" system
of welfare services have come from members of the middle
groups.

In some quarters in the United States, there is a ten-
dency to look upon these "welfare state" provisions in
Latin American countries as dangerously "socialistic" inno-
vations which may eventually lead to communism. On the
contrary, I believe that they should be considered as re-
sponses to deep-seated values and as defenses against com-
munism, provided they are honestly and efficiently
administered. The danger of communism arises when a
Latin American government merely pays lip service to the
expectations of its people and fails to meet its need for
protective services. It is noteworthy that much social legis-
lation has been established under dictatorships that were
opposed not only to communism, but also to democracy.

A VARIANT OF MATERIALISM

Many articulate Latin Americans like to say that their
culture is essentially a spiritual one, and some of them
derive an obvious satisfaction from contrasting this assump-
tion with the "crassly materialistic" values they attribute
to the United States. Yet even such critics, when in a frank
and confidential mood, admit that they and their com-
patriots are not entirely uninterested in material things.
The point is, I think, that materialism is seen and defined
somewhat differently by them.

Perhaps the traditional Latin American variety can best
be termed "tangible materialism." The pattern has been to
trust and seek only those kinds of property "one can put
one's hands on." Stocks and bonds, and other securities of
corporations and companies not known "personally" to the
investor, are mere pieces of paper; they are not tangible.
Nor are copyrights, patents, royalty agreements, and simi-
lar "invisible" properties to be trusted. One apparent ex-
ception is lottery tickets, which many Latin Americans buy
each week, but a lottery ticket is generally regarded not as
"property" but as an investment in "fate."

Some Signposts for Policy 39

Among all classes, land and buildings are regarded as
the most tangible types of property. People of the middle
class, however, do not work the land with their own hands.
When one of them owns productive land, he has peones
or tenants to do the labor. Furthermore, the ideal pattern
is to have one or more servants to work about the house, as
the wife and other members of the family are not supposed
to stoop to domestic drudgery.

In some parts of society the controlling power of the
values associated with tangible materialism is weakening.
Still, its persistent strength explains some forms of behavior
which differ widely from those now customary in the
United States. It has usually been difficult, for example, to
finance large undertakings by the widespread sale of secur-
ities. Savings and insurance plans are poorly developed,
because of the distrust of smaller savers for impersonal
pieces of paper and impersonal institutions. The disdain
for manual work means that the market for labor-saving
devices is proportionately much smaller among middle-
class families than among similar groups in North America.
It is usually cheaper and certainly more "respectable" to
hire a maid, a cook, and a yard man than to buy the numer-
ous gadgets that middle-class North American husbands
and wives use in doing the household chores themselves.
Credit is difficult to come by, and interest rates are high.
A man who invests his money in a business enterprise may
expect a return of 30 per cent or more a year and is reluc-
tant to take risks.

This pattern has permitted foreigners or local people of
foreign extraction to develop large areas of business more
by default than by competition. Much of the alleged
"Yankee economic imperialism," despite some mistakes
and excesses, has simply represented a movement of outside
enterprise into areas of economic vacuum. In almost every
country some middle-status intellectuals have recognized
the economic weaknesses of the present pattern and have
sought to remedy them through governmental action and
institutions. In the last twenty-five years many governments

40 Social Change in Latin America Today

have endeavored to provide parts of the structural frame-
work which have traditionally been provided by private
enterprise in the United States: development corporations
to encourage investment, with the government supplying
much of the capital and taking most of the risk; govern-
ment-financing of large industrial projects; small-loan
banks of various types; government insurance plans; and
so on. Again, some critics see these as moves toward "so-
cialism" and the "welfare state," but until or unless basic
patterns are changed they will probably continue to grow
in importance.

Although middle-group people are sensitive about the
degrading symbolic effects of "manual labor," it is a gross
libel to call them lazy or indolent. They habitually expend
enormous amounts of personal energy when engaged in
something they consider valuable or interesting. On the
other hand, working just for the sake of keeping busy is
not regarded as necessarily a good thing, and temporary
idleness is not regarded as in itself immoral.

Within the realm of materialistic values, the mere
manipulation of things in order to explore their mechanical
or functional potentialities is not an all-engrossing interest.
Most Latin Americans of the middle class are not domi-
nated by a "mechanistic world view," nor are they usually
moved by an urge to undertake systematic, empirical in-
vestigations. There have been few outstanding contribu-
tions to science, either basic or applied, and little solving
of everyday material problems to which industrially more
advanced peoples have applied the common-sense ingenu-
ity developed from their long familiarity with machines
and physical forces. There is ample evidence that Latin
Americans are able to achieve success in the mechanistic
arts, but traditionally they have not been much interested
in them.

THE WEIGHT OF TRANSCENDENTAL VALUES

Of far more importance to most middle-status Latin
Americans are what they often call spiritual or transcen-

Some Signposts for Policy 41

dental values— "the something beyond" (lo algo mas alia).
Just as, to them, an individual has an inner essence and a
dignity that may not be immediately apparent, so the uni-
verse and human experience are believed to have a deeper,
not always manifest, meaning. Not all people can express
this pattern of values succinctly, but much of the cultural
behavior does so obliquely. The cultural life of the middle
groups has an aesthetic tone which middle-class North
Americans of today do not often permit themselves. North-
rop see this as "aesthetic intuition." 15 And Iturriaga says,
". . . of the great cultural values— truth, goodness, justice,
beauty, saintliness— the Mexican does not hesitate in his
preference; beauty constitutes a force of gravity that
attracts him " 16 "Literary activity is of such vital impor-
tance to the lives of Latin Americans," writes Torres Rio-
seco, "that it may be said to occupy a position similar to

that of economic interest in the life of North America " 17

And in philosophy, says Sanchez Reulet, Latin Americans
"have a deep humanistic sense. They recognize the value of
science and technology, but doubt that man can fulfill his
destiny only by the road of science and technology. And in
all this there is an exaltation of human creative energies, a
constant insistence on the values of action and liberty." 18
Nor are these views confined to professional "long-hairs"
and "egg heads." In contrast to the tendency in the United
States to regard the arts and philosophy as the exclusive
province of ivory-tower specialists, among Latin American
middle groups no one hesitates to pursue and display these
interests. There it is not regarded as effeminate or eccentric
to exhibit whatever talent one has. Even a businessman,
before getting down to mundane matters, may display a
verse he has written the night before or boast about his

15 F. S. C. Northrop, The Meeting of East and West (New York:
Macmillan, 1946), p. 23.

16 Cited, p. 237.

17 Arturo Torres Rioseco, The Epic of Latin American Literature (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1956), p. 168.

i8Anibal Sanchez Reulet, ed., La filosofia latinoamericana contem-
pordnea (Washington: Pan American Union, 1949), p. 19.

42 Social Change in Latin America Today

children's prowess in music. The middle-status reader ex-
pects his newspapers to inform him of philosophical ques-
tions and to offer him good literature and art criticism.
Practically every large newspaper carries at least one page
of literary material daily, whereas few of them have a
financial page with complete stock quotations and other
business news. Interest in the aesthetic aspects of architec-
ture and city planning has always been strong in Latin
America. Even small provincial towns take pride in beau-
tifying at least the central plaza. Publicly supported band
concerts, theaters, orchestras, opera and stage companies,
and art museums are taken for granted as part of urban life.

Although undoubtedly there are psychological factors
involved in this search for "the ultimate" and "something
beyond," it is surely these values that in large measure
make life worth living for many Latin Americans of mid-
dle status, and it is foolhardy for North Americans who
wish to be friends with them to ignore or disparage this
cultural strand. It must be kept in mind that in the field of
practical politics and international relations prominent
holders of political office, civil servants, and diplomatic
representatives are often writers, philosophers, or poets of
international renown. They receive such posts not only be-
cause of their prestige, but also because of a genuine belief
that their success in aesthetic pursuits fits them for posts
of national responsibility and leadership. It is obvious that
for such men and women, and for the middle groups they
usually represent, a purely pragmatic approach to problems
does not necessarily constitute the most effective appeal.

The emphasis upon words, ideals, and elegance of ex-
pression has been condemned by some Latin American
critics.19 One of the causes of instability in political life, as
they see it, is the tendency to feel that the job is finished
when written expression has been given to ideals, through

19 For example, Carlos Octavio Bunge, Nuestra America: Ensayo de
psicologia social (6th ed.; Buenos Aires: Administration General, 1918).
This author is still quoted frequently by Latin American writers on this
and other matters.

Some Signposts for Policy 43

the composing of constitutions, party declarations, and
statutes, while systematic, determined efforts to translate
the verbalized ideals into reality often are wanting. Yet we
must recognize that cultural idealism, even though occa-
sionally naive and falling short in adequate implementa-
tion, offers better prospects for progress than indifference
or crass cynicism. In addition, it must not be forgotten
that, along with the value they place on words and concepts,
Latin Americans demonstrate a high degree of aptitude for
logical thinking and clear statement.

Their consuming interest in ideas and sentiments also
makes Latin Americans responsive to outside ideologies
and emotional appeals. It is no accident that the slogans of
the Four Freedoms, set forth in the Atlantic Charter, were
eagerly accepted in Latin America, or that Marxist ideology
has received careful study in many Latin American circles.
Because of their admiration for a certain elegance in argu-
mentation, Latin Americans are not slow to identify and
ridicule inconsistencies and confusions which they perceive
in U.S. propaganda. Nor is their enthusiasm aroused by
what they often consider to be an undue emphasis on
utilitarianism and pragmatism.

EMOTION AS FULFILLMENT OF THE SELF

For Latin Americans, to be alive is to feel strongly, and
when one feels an emotion one should express it. Such
expression is one of the openly approved values of the
traditional culture. This deeply held value apparently is
derived in part from the Iberian mother countries. It is
difficult to find any parallel to it among the aboriginal
peoples. As a rule the Indians are schooled to patterns that
in public give the impression of passivity and taciturnity.
Not so the average middle-status Latin American. He will
usually speak his mind or, more properly, his feelings on
almost any subject, given the slightest occasion. "The
Spaniard," as Schurz puts it in sketching the Iberian back-
ground, "is a man of passion. ... he may not do things
according to reason or logic or cold calculation . . . but ac-

44 Social Change in Latin America Today

cording to the light of intuition and the urge of strong
feeling. He may even do something for no good reason at
all, but only by the prompting of caprice. Then he will act
under the blind impulse of gana, or the moving of the
spirit." 20

In Latin America many ordinary, "undistinguished" per-
sons are among the most interesting conversationalists and
impromptu storytellers in the world. Any mundane inci-
dent, such as a day's trip to the market, is often "milked"
of all possible emotional content in the telling. And serious
matters must customarily be expressed emotionally if they
are to receive a positive response and interest. In politics
the appeal to the emotions is, of course, ever present and
frequently obscures other interests.

If all this is the positive aspect of the value attached to
feeling, the negative facet is ennui or routine, which must
be avoided or broken whenever possible. The most fre-
quent expression of this urge is through the fiestas which
occur at regular intervals throughout the year. The com-
munity fiesta serves as an occasion for renewing personal
contacts and symbolizing social solidarity with a pleasant
emotional overtone, in addition to being an escape from
ennui. Laughter and alegria (happiness) are as important as
the expression of more "serious" emotions. Latin Ameri-
cans of most regions are particularly adept at the chiste,
or joke, the play on words (juego de palabras), and the
aphorism or proverb. In the exercise of this skill, sympa-
thetic laughter and admiration are the storyteller's sole re-
wards. Witticism is also used with devastating effect in
politics and other public affairs. This can lead, however, to
the emotionalizing of issues which in other cultures may be
examined in their practical context. North Americans, in
contrast, are often criticized for being dry and cold.

20 William Lytle Schurz, This New World: The Civilization of Latin
America (New York: Dutton, 1954), p. 82.

Some Signposts for Policy 45

THE SENSE OF FATALISM

Running through the other values which shape the out-
look of the average member of the middle segments of
Latin American society is the sense of fatalism. Perhaps it
is less pervasive in Brazil than in the Spanish-speaking
countries, but it is nowhere absent as an underlying factor
in determining modes of behavior and attitudes. Its two
general forms are those of heroic defiance and passive
resignation. The first appears as a heightened expression of
the value of personalism. Each person owes it to himself to
strive, to mobilize and exert his inner resources, to live and
die with dignidad. Yet, fate must ever be reckoned with
and, for reasons beyond the control of man, it may often be
unjust. As Unamuno expressed it in his classic statement,
paraphrasing Senancour: "And if it is nothingness that
awaits us, let us so act that it will be an unjust fate." 21
This point of view has been accepted by many authors in
Portuguese and Spanish America.

In the Spanish countries the bull fight (corrida de toros)
is a dramatization of Man facing Death. The matador pits
all his skill against the bull, which is Death incarnate. But
he does it with finesse, with imperturbability, and with
grace. If he is successful, Man has once more defied and
conquered Death— for the time being. But in the next bull
fate may show its hand, and the matador may fly through
the air with his body ripped open, to fall a bloody, quiver-
ing mass on the sand. And fate can always win if, at "the
moment of truth" when Man and Death face each other
for the kill, the man's courage falters and he cringes, even
in spirit. While the corrida is a dramatization of this theme
staged before a great crowd of spectators, many a Latin
American thinks of less spectacular situations as a continua-
tion of the same dramatic struggle with fate. He sees him-
self as "acting out" the heroic theme in his own small way.

21 Miguel de Unamuno, The Tragic Sense of Life, tr. by J. E. Craw-
ford Fitch (New York: Dover Publications, 1954), p. 263. (Original title,
Del sentimiento trdgico de la vida, 1912.)

46 Social Change in Latin America Today

The sense of fatalism may be manifested in the seemingly
fanatical defiance of danger by soldiers and revolutionary
mobs, in an apparent willingness to endure hardships dis-
proportionate to the goal at hand and to take risks beyond
all rationality. The elaborate cult of death, funerals, and
graveyards is a further expression of the value attached to
fatalism.

The theme of resignation, within the deep-lying sense of
fatalism, is expressed in both "happy" and "melancholy"
customs. A cheerful aspect is shown in the universal hope
for good luck, of which the lottery is perhaps the most
ubiquitous form. Its less optimistic aspect is seen as the
mood swings into tristeza, a sort of sweet sadness, to which
people surrender with pleasure. A crowd will ask a brass
band in the park to play un triste. Friends around the
tables then start drinking earnestly in the hope of working
into a mood of sadness, meanwhile having the time of their
lives. Much popular music and the accompanying words
are sad, and melancholy poems appear every day to please
the public.

In public life, fatalistic resignation may lead to what
Bunge, the Argentine sociologist and critic, called "creole
indolence" (la pereza criolla), a tendency to shirk the seek-
ing of constructive solutions to problems.22 In politics it has
induced a general paralysis of action. In public health, one
of the principal problems has been the ingrained belief
that a certain amount of sickness and death is inevitable.
It is "the will of God" or "fate." 23 As social mobility and
the rewards of pragmatic ingenuity, combined with group
action and the workability of democratic procedures, are
demonstrated, the fatalistic complex will probably decline
in importance.

From the viewpoint of social psychiatry, however, one
advantage of the value associated with fatalism should per-

22 Cited, p. 18, and elsewhere.

23 George Foster, A Cross Cultural Anthropological Analysis of a
Technical Aid Program (Washington: Smithsonian Institution, 1951;
mimeographed), discusses this theme in several situations.

Some Signposts for Policy 47

haps be mentioned here. The sense of the blind power of
fate is combined, for most members of the middle groups
at least, with the theme of striving, one of the values of
"the person." An individual must strive to fulfill his inner
potentialities as a unique person. If he fails, after having
made "a good try," he is not torn by feelings of guilt, con-
science, or inadequacy, which play a large part in the psy-
chological aftereffects of failure in North American cul-
ture. For a Latin American who has "done his best," failure
is due to the inscrutable ways of "fate" (or "the will of
God"). It is not his personal "fault."

The Changing Life of Latin America

These are some of the basic values, rapidly sketched,
which shape the outlook of the restive middle groups.
They suggest the background of traditional culture from
which this rapidly growing segment of Latin American so-
cieties is facing the turbulent changes of the present. Work-
ing today largely within these familiar ways of looking at
life and human nature, the nations of Latin America and
their leaders face new forces of change and challenge. If
they come to terms with the new values which these forces
present, they may emerge with a new cultural integration
which will enable them to act strongly and independently
in the free world. Or the clash of values may result in pro-
longed confusion and disorganization, terminating in sur-
render to some outside ideological system, such as that
proffered by communism. Dramatic changes are taking
place in the areas of demography and population, social
structure and economic life, religion, political life, and
international relations. Even a brief glance at these turbu-
lent zones of change will help us to see older patterns of
value being reshaped and new ones emerging.

POPULATION AND SOCIAL STRUCTURE

The population of Latin America as a whole is increas-
ing much faster than that of North America, even taking

48 Social Change in Latin America Today

into account the latter's stepped-up growth since World
War II. Reliable estimates indicate that the total popula-
tion of Latin America has passed that of the United States
in the early 1950's.24 Most experts believe that if present
rates of increase continue, Latin America will have twice as
many people as the United States by the end of this cen-
tury. The rise in population is in large part due to new
medical and public health programs, which have, for ex-
ample, resulted in a marked reduction in the infant death
rate. Present life expectancy averages about forty years at
birth. The result is that the population is predominantly
a young one, with higher proportions in the lower age cate-
gories that are unproductive economically and place a
heavy burden on educational facilities.

The population of Latin America, according to Hal-
perin's analysis, has risen faster than food production, and
since World War II the city population has grown three
times faster than the rural population, creating political
and social tensions among the uprooted peasants who have
migrated to the cities.25 Furthermore, population pressures
in traditionally more heavily settled areas have resulted in
large-scale displacement and resettlement in more empty
regions, as exemplified in the government-sponsored colo-
nization of highland people in the Pacific littoral of Ecua-
dor and Colombia, in parts of Guatemala, in the interior
Minas Geraes area of Brazil, and in the Amazon regions of
Peru.

As the population has been increasing in total numbers
and changing its patterns of settlement, new aspects of so-
cial structure have been emerging. Some of these have been
mentioned: the gradual disappearance of Indians as a dis-
tinct caste and their absorption into the national societies;
the emergence of various segments of the middle class; the

24 Statistical Yearbook, 1957, 1957.XVIL1 (New York: United Nations,
1957)>* see also American Academy of Political and Social Science, A
Crowding Hemisphere: Population Change in the Americas (Philadel-
phia: Author, 1958; The Annals, v. 316).

25 Maurice Halperin, "Latin America in Transition," Science and
Society, Fall 1956, pp. 290-319.

Some Signposts for Policy 40

growth of a new urban proletariat; the development of a
moneyed upper class. The growth of the urban working
class has been accompanied by the development of trade-
unions. And these, in turn, have spread among the rural
proletariat, for example, on the fruit plantations in Cen-
tral America and among workers employed in the extrac-
tive industries, such as oil and large-scale mining. The new
proletariat, in contrast with the old peon and servant lower
classes, has also begun to display independent political
power, usually organized and led by middle-group politi-
cians who have recognized its potential.

Although illiteracy remains high in most countries in
comparison with North America and Western Europe, it
has been declining with growing rapidity, stimulated by
technical and financial aid to education from the U.S.
Point Four Program, the Organization of American States,
and the United Nations. The spread of education accounts
in part for the emergence of expanding middle groups in
society. And it will probably continue to produce a certain
"leveling up" of social status and outlook by giving many
previously isolated subgroups a common educational back-
ground.

Finally, we must not overlook the emancipation of
women and the redefinition of their roles in society. At
present this is largely a middle-status phenomenon. In con-
servative circles and in some provincial centers women are
still expected to follow the older pattern, confining their
activities mainly to the home and the church. In the mid-
dle groups, however, their emergence into business and
public affairs has been spectacular. Middle-status women
work in clerical positions, as teachers, as trained nurses
and hygiene experts, as physicians and lawyers, and in a
variety of other callings. And many middle-status house-
wives who are not gainfully employed take part in activities
of women's clubs similar to those now customary in the
United States.

From the traditional point of view, one of the most
startling phenomena is the rise of prominent women poli-

50 Social Change in Latin America Today

ticians. The cities of San Juan, Puerto Rico, and Santiago,
Chile, have recently had women mayors, and women are
serving as senators or congressmen in several legislatures,
even that of tradition-bound Peru. Women have the vote
in all countries except Paraguay. As previously indicated,
girls have traditionally been subject to a more disciplined
training in the home than boys, and as women they have
assumed roles of great responsibility and stability in the
household. However, it would be premature to say more
than that the influence of middle-class women appears
likely to expand considerably in the national life of Latin
American countries.

IMPACT OF ECONOMIC CHANGES

Although all the national economies rely mainly on ex-
porting raw materials, livestock, and foodstuffs to earn the
bulk of their foreign exchange, the economic patterns are
becoming steadily less "semicolonial." For one thing, over
recent years many new contracts and other arrangements
with large foreign-owned corporations have been designed
to make the host countries partners in these basic enter-
prises. The oil companies in Venezuela have set a new
pattern under agreements whereby they turn over approxi-
mately one-half of their gross profits to the national treas-
ury, in addition to providing their workers with numerous
benefits in health care, training, and housing. Since 1954
the United Fruit Company has negotiated agreements with
most of the countries where it operates, turning over a
minimum of 30 per cent of gross profits to the national
treasury as well as providing a long list of other benefits.26
In these major enterprises, both the labor force and all but
a small percentage of the administrative and supervisory
personnel are native to the country. In most of them labor
is organized in unions, and a continuing program of train- I

26 Wayne C. Taylor, John Lindeman, and Victor L6pez, The Creole
Petroleum Corporation in Venezuela (1955); and Stacy May and Galo j
Plaza, The United Fruit Company in Latin America (1958); both pub-
lished by the National Planning Association, Washington, D.C.

Some Signposts for Policy 51

ing provides a new corps of specialists and executives
drawn from the local middle class.

These changes in pattern are not due entirely to the
generosity of the foreign concerns. They reflect the grow-
ing power and competence of segments of the middle
groups in politics and economic life. The new technology
and new industries have opened hundreds of new types of
jobs as well as calling for vastly increased numbers of work-
ers and employees to staff some of the older ones. These
changes in the working force have produced important
new blocs of people whose opinions and attitudes carry
great weight. One of the main problems arising out of the
rapid growth of technology and industry is the pressing
shortage of scientists, engineers, and technicians. Higher
education, dominated by the lofty values of transcendental-
ism, has traditionally emphasized the humanities and
slighted the sciences. At present, the gap is being filled in
part by training younger experts abroad, but many addi-
tions to the local educational curricula are needed. As
more young Latin Americans are trained in these fields,
we may expect to see develop a new source of prestige based
on the practical management of human and natural re-
sources, probably with a peculiarly Latin American flavor,
perhaps involving "spiritual" and "personalistic" season-
ing.

So long as Latin American economies continue to operate
mainly on a basis of nationalistic self-sufficiency, it is un-
likely that heavy industry can develop sufficiently to meet
the major needs of most countries. Imports will continue
to be required from North America, Europe, Japan, and
elsewhere. However, several groups of countries have al-
ready experimented with regional tariff arrangements, and
it is not impossible that economic "blocs" may emerge and
become an important and stabilizing factor. On the other
hand, the uneven distribution of subsoil resources means
that complete national economic autarchy is impossible at
present in any of these nations, and total self-sufficiency of
Latin America as a unit is improbable. Latin America will

52 Social Change in Latin America Today

continue to be dependent upon trade, a fact which makes
for continued close ties with the outside world.

The system inherited from the colonial era, of large
landed estates held exclusively by the old aristocracy, with
its virtual monopoly of the more productive terrain, is
under attack throughout Latin America, and land reform
of some sort is a prominent plank in the political platforms
of all parties appealing to the middle and lower groups of
society. In some areas the redistribution of land and the
resettlement of peasants on new lands result in establishing
large numbers of independent farmers, as well as coopera-
tive plantations and ejidos; the same changes are creating
new patterns in the techniques of work, the organization
of labor, and the location of economic power. As more and
more farm workers are released from peonage, they tend to
develop a new interest and a new stake in national affairs.

The technological revolution is changing the face of
Latin America at an unprecedented speed. In agriculture,
machinery is steadily replacing the labor of men and ani-
mals on large commercial plantations and cooperative
farms. In manufacturing, the growth of factories, although
not sensational, is proceeding apace, especially in con-
sumers' goods, pharmaceuticals, and building materials.
Expanding industries have drawn large numbers of coun-
try people into urban life, with many new problems of
adaptation. Even in rural communities, electric or gasoline
flour mills are replacing the old household handstones.
Electricity, which brings not only light but also movies
and radio, as well as piped water systems, autobus trans-
portation—with necessary improvement in roads and streets
—and factory-made furnishings and fixtures are coming to
be a part of everyday life. Technology is producing a rising
standard of community services and family living.

Finally, these manifold changes are effecting a marked
shift in the distribution of incomes, with an expanding
share of the national income going to the middle-status
groups and, in varying degrees, to organized labor. This
redistribution of income is bringing about many changes

Some Signposts for Policy 53

in consumption patterns. To satisfy the new demands, the
U.S.-style supermarket and department store are rapidly
displacing the older types of shops in some metropolitan
centers.

THE RELIGIOUS FERMENT

Regardless of the varying legal relationships of the Ro-
man Catholic Church to the state, certain significant
changes are apparent even on the surface.27 In most regions,
the active participation of laymen in Roman Catholic activ-
ities has been on the decline over several decades, along
with their active adherence to the teachings of the clergy
on secular affairs. The notion that communism, for exam-
ple, cannot make headway in Latin America because the
people there are "safely Catholic" can no longer be com-
placently accepted. The power of the clergy to influence
public opinion has by no means disappeared, but there are
few if any countries where it any longer dominates public
opinion or action completely. In some areas several varie-
ties of Protestantism have made significant inroads, particu-
larly among persons who are moving upward on the social
ladder. Most of the Protestant missionary sects, it is worth
noting, emphasize interpretations of the Bible which exalt
the "bourgeois" values associated with the rise of capital-
ism. The "Protestant ethic," however, is not widely dis-
seminated. In contrast, spiritualistic cults, a not infrequent
reaction to the difficulties of social uprooting and adapta-
tion, have undergone an amazing growth in some areas,
particularly in Brazil. The many social and educational
changes in Latin American life work, on balance, toward

27 In eleven of the nineteen countries, church and state are officially
separated: Brazil, Chile, Cuba, Ecuador, El Salvador, Guatemala, Hon-
duras, Mexico, Nicaragua, Panama, and Uruguay; W. W. Pierson and
Federico Gil, Governments of Latin America (New York: McGraw-Hill,
1957), p. 445. Although all countries constitutionally permit freedom of
worship, in those where the church is "established," "public worship"
may be defined and regulated by law. On this basis, interference with
non-Catholic public worship has occurred in recent years in Peru and
Colombia, and under Juan Per6n restrictions were imposed on Roman
Catholic activities in Argentina.

54 Social Change in Latin America Today

secularizing the middle-status man and weakening the tra-
ditional authority of the church.

Roman Catholic movements to bring the appeal of the
church more into line with present-day needs have ap-
peared here and there and may be expected to increase.
The Third Order of St. Francis, for example, preaches
the puritanical virtues and endeavors to limit the cult of
saints and the extravagances of religious fraternities. Catho-
lic trade-unions have been organized to protect the interests
of the laboring classes. Many of the liberal or reform Cath-
olic movements base their action on Pope Leo XIII's ency-
clical Rerum Novarum (1893). But, as one Catholic critic
puts it, "unhappily, the Church in Latin America is not
fully aware of the present social upheaval." 28 In the minds
of many of the middle-status people, the church, if not re-
garded as an antiquated and expensive relic of no modern
significance, is actively resented for its alleged "reaction-
ary" position and its traditional support for the hereditary
aristocracy, with its landed monopoly. Today, Latin Amer-
ica is no longer monolithically Roman Catholic, in the
traditional sense, and new religious ferments are at work.

THE MIDDLE SEGMENTS AND THE POLITICS OF CHANGE

In the area of national politics all other factors of
change find their ultimate focus. For one thing, the great
majority of practicing politicians are of middle status, and
a minority among them have recently climbed into the
new upper class. With very few exceptions, the older aris-
tocracy lacks large blocs of votes or other sources of politi-
cal power. Generally speaking, it no longer commands the
armed services. The lower classes, on the whole, have not
yet developed the techniques necessary for political action
except when leadership is provided by middle-status peo-
ple. Even in those instances where conservatives have taken
over the government because of divisions in the ranks of
the opposition, as happened in Colombia in 1950 and in

28 Francois Houtart, "Silent Revolution," Commonweal, July 22, 1955,
P- 39i-

Some Signposts for Policy 55

Ecuador in 1956, the president and major officials of the
government are usually men of middle status. The middle
strata, however, are not united in their goals. They tend
to divide along personalistic and ideological lines. In the
United States there are few basic disagreements between
the two major political parties regarding ultimate goals;
they differ on how to reach the same generally shared ob-
jectives. This is not true of Latin America. Still dominated
by traditional values, middle-status politicians are often
deeply divided over both goals and methods.

The new technologies are having a varying impact on
the conduct of politics. The expansion of mass communica-
tion and travel has brought about an increased interest
and participation in politics throughout far wider circles
of the people than before, even though the group in power
may attempt to monopolize the channels of communica-
tion. On the other hand, modern technologies of armed
force tend to make it easier for those who control them to
suppress opposition. Today, in order to carry out a success-
ful revolution without foreign help, it is necessary, first of
all, to infiltrate and secure the adherence of an important
sector of the officer corps. The old pattern of "rebellion in
the backlands" is almost always doomed to failure without
cooperation from some parts of the armed forces.

The responsibility for welfare-state services and their
supporting structures has been assumed, or at least been
given lip service, by all national governments. This trend
is going forward regardless of whether the government of
the moment is democratic or dictatorial. Both this devel-
opment and the great increase in numbers and administra-
tive complexity of all branches of government— finance,
public works, banking, education, public relations— re-
quire, in Latin America as elsewhere, more and more tech-
nical experts and trained administrators. The role of this
segment grows even under military rule. The officers of
the armed forces often rationalize their frequent interven-
tion in politics by their alleged impartiality in matters of
party politics and also by their claim to be the only organ-

56 Social Change in Latin America Today

ized element capable of keeping order. Army officers, how-
ever, are not usually trained administrators of government
bureaus, and military regimes are more dependent than
ever before on trained and experienced civilian personnel.

Practically everywhere the old division between liberal
and conservative political parties has broken down. In
countries where more than one party is permitted,29 the
numerous parties that have filled the resulting void have
been notoriously unstable, personalistic, and irresponsible,
with one outstanding exception. This is the Communist
party, whether operating under that label or not, and
whether in the open or underground. This party offers a
plausible platform or program from which it rarely devi-
ates in principle. It displays cohesion and discipline among
its members. It has also shown itself adept at making sur-
face compromises and expedient alliances, as in the days
of the "Popular Front" in Chile.

Although the number of hard-shell Communists is small
at present and the party is legal only in Mexico, Colombia,
Ecuador, Argentina, Venezuela (since the revolution of
1958), Cuba, and Uruguay, its influence is vastly greater
than its numbers.30 The Communists have gained many
supporters among middle-group intellectuals. Describing
the Guatemalan situation under Jacobo Arbenz Guzman
(1951-1954), the State Department's study said: "At first
the older administration parties tried to form alliances
omitting the new Communist groups, but they failed to
develop a non-Communist revolutionary ideology as
cement, and the alliances one by one fell of their internal
dissensions." 31 Arbenz himself, probably not a Communist
on taking office, apparently came increasingly under the
influence of party members, largely because they were the
most efficient political group for getting things done for

29 in several countries only one "party" is at present permitted,
notably the Dominican Republic and Paraguay.

30 Membership is estimated at about 200,000, or less than two-tenths
of one per cent of the population; Pierson and Gil, cited, p. 328.

31 Intervention of International Communism in Guatemala, cited, p.
73-

Some Signposts for Policy 57

the administration.32 Whether the democratic parties will,
in the face of Communist efficiency, improve their own
organizations and operations remains to be seen. Unfor-
tunately, financial and other forms of personal aggrandize-
ment, rather than party solidarity behind programs and
principles, are still a frequent motivation for many of their
members and leaders.

In summary, it is doubtful that a democratic system
closely resembling that of the United States will soon, if
ever, develop in Latin America. The cultural and social
backgrounds and forces within which democracy must
develop in Latin America are very different from those of
the United States. But there is no reason to think that truly
democratic patterns adapted to the requirements of Latin
American societies will not evolve in time, provided the
people have the opportunity to perceive the rewards that
democratic government can bring them. One purpose of
U.S. foreign policy must be to foster in every way possible
the demonstration of the lasting benefits of democratic
freedom and institutions.

Perhaps the outstanding factor which molds Latin
America's relations today with the United States is the
attitude of extreme nationalism publicly assumed and
fostered by the more articulate leaders in all countries.
This is combined with frequent defensive reactions against
suspected U.S. attempts to infringe upon their sovereignty
in the political, economic, or cultural spheres. The fires of
suspicion and sensitivity are constantly kindled and stoked
by astute anti-American propaganda, chiefly but not ex-
clusively Communist-inspired.

Yet, in every country there are growing cadres of people,
chiefly in the middle strata, who have formed a sympathetic
understanding of the North American way of life, without
thereby feeling disloyal to their own basic cultural values.
They are aware that a mutual give and take between the
two great cultural areas of the Western Hemisphere does

32 John Gillin and K. H. Silvert, "Ambiguities in Guatemala," For-
eign Affairs, April 1956, pp. 469-482.

58 Social Change in Latin America Today

not inevitably mean the stamping out of the virtues of
either. There is no need for Latin Americans to assume that
the borrowing of certain pragmatic and scientific ap-
proaches to their problems entails the loss of their own
spiritual values in exchange for a "crass materialism."
There is no need for them to think so, unless our policies
and our actions in Latin America should leave them no
other visible alternative.

Some Suggestions for U.S. Policy

What do these social changes and the new social forces
mean for the United States' relations with Latin America?
The following suggestions are offered by a layman speak-
ing to other laymen, in the belief that no policy can be
more effective than the force of public opinion makes it.

First, the ferments of the continuing revolution, the
ideological and social changes, in Latin America must be
closely followed by up-to-the-minute reporting, research,
and analysis. Policy made on the basis of old news fre-
quently turns into bad news. From the point of view of
U.S. security, Latin America, because of its very proximity,
is one of the more important world areas. Although not
highly developed industrially, Latin America does not
belong in the same category of "underdeveloped areas"
as do certain parts of Africa, Asia, and Oceania, whose
cultures have hitherto been neither European nor modern.
For more than four and one-half centuries Latin America
has had a part in that style of life we call Western civiliza-
tion, meanwhile developing its own version of it. Its
leaders are determined to guide it into full participation
in the modern world. Neither conditions nor the leaders'
reactions to U.S. policies can be taken for granted without
running great risks.

A practical need in this respect is the establishment of
a central research institute for Latin America somewhere
in the United States, preferably close enough to Washing-
ton to be accessible for consultation by policy-makers. Such

Some Signposts for Policy

an institute should have access to a full range of informa-
tion, in addition to carrying out investigations under its
own auspices.

The full information required includes a close analysis
of programs and propaganda emanating from the Soviet
bloc. To many North Americans all Communist-inspired /
moves appear subversive, but it would be shortsighted to
ignore the conditions and problems which make them
appealing to many Latin Americans.

Second, while the United States is prepared to cooperate
in the modernization of Latin America by financial credits,
know-how, and moral support, all such projects should
be planned and carried out with full attention and respect
to the traditions, honor, and intelligence of the Latin
Americans. A Good Neighbor does not patronize nor does
he expect his friends to transform their ways into exact
copies of his own.

Third, U.S. plans and programs must be drawn up and
carried out in full coordination. In the recent past certain
Latin American countries have received a variety of U.S.
"missions" or field parties, each with a praiseworthy pro-
gram of its own, but each working on its own. Public
health, agricultural, educational, and military missions, for
example, usually report separately to their respective Wash-
ington headquarters and maintain no more than friendly
or bowing relations with each other in the country to
which they are assigned. As Latin Americans have often
pointed out to me, such a lack of over-all plan leaves many ,
grietas abiertas (open cracks), into which the Communists **
and their friends do not hesitate to penetrate. Each nation
is a complex whole. An economic policy must be judged
not only in terms of its probable effects on national produc-
tion and consumption, the balance of payments, the bank-
ing system, and other strictly economic aspects of the
situation. Its influence must also be measured with respect
to its effects on the various social segments of the nation, on]
ideological interpretations, political movements, and so onj

Likewise, a policy with respect to any one Latin Ameri-

6q Social Change in Latin America Today

can nation must be examined for its possible repercussions
throughout the area.

Fourth, it is in the interests of both the United States
and the new Latin American leadership that the former
should prove to be not only a symbol of democracy and
progress, but also a reliable partner in the practical achieve-
ment of these goals. Even when it is indirect or temporary,
U.S^upport of dictatorships undercuts its support among
friends of democracy and provides local critics oT~tEe
"Colossus^oLtlieL North' jwith free opportunities to create
confusion and sow distrust. Each situation, of course, pre-
sents a special case, and sweeping generalizations are dan-
gerous. But it is certainly desirable for the United States
to establish a general image of itself throughout Latin

yArnenca^sjhefriend of responsible democrats and liberals
and an_opponent_of dictatorships of the right or the left.
InTEis connection North Americans need to give closer
attention to their military policy in Latin America. In
respect to each country, it is important to know whether
gifts or loans of arms and machines of war actually
strengthen U.S. and hemisphere security or merely provide
means for the consolidation of dictatorships.33

Fifth, much could be done to bring U.S. public and
private foreign policies in Latin America into a common
focus. In some Latin American regions the activities,

i installations and personnel of one or more large North
American business corporations are more visible than the
embassy or the official missions. Large business concerns
have realized only recently that they are in effect repre-
senting the United States as well as their own private
interests, and in recent years many of them have begun
to devote more attention to their local public relations
and to the public image they create in the minds of leaders
and people. Coordination of policies does not mean dom-
ination by the Department of State, but it should mean a

33 For a fuller discussion see Edwin Lieu wen, Arms and Politics in
Latin America (New York: Praeger, for the Council on Foreign Relations,
1960)-

Some Signposts for Policy 61

friendly and cooperative rela^nshirj»Jb£tween official and
private uTSTpoliciesjlhat^coulcrin turn win the friendship
and the good will of representative~~officIaT and private
elements in Latin America.

Sixth, the United States must be prepared to support
projects and movements that are needed for the develop-
ment of Latin America, even though they are not always
within the "free enterprise" context as understood in v
North America. For example, in some countries large
economic development programs must be carried out by
public bodies set up for the purpose, for want of local
capital and private organizational experience. It is essential
that their management and control be in the hands of per- y
sons committed to the values of the free world, and this can ^
be encouraged more readily if U.S. policy is helpful and
sympathetic. A tendency for American representatives to
label as "socialistic" or "communistic" everything that does
not strictly conform to U.S. patterns may have the effect
of stimulating many idealistic Latin Americans to identify
themsej/ves with real^Communist movements and groups.

Seventh, in view of the still persistent personalistic value
in Latin American culture it is essential for U.S. represen-
tatives to develop sympathetic personal contacts with the
leadership elements of the middle groups and learn to
appreciate their sometimes hazy aspirations. In the past,
North American diplomatic and business people have all
too frequently confined their personal relations to the very
rich, cosmopolitan, or Americanized segments of the na-
tional society, and consequently have had no firsthand
comprehension ofthe_ subsurface trends__oLchange. Latin
Americans love foargue and to deal with general concepts,
if this is done in a friendly atmosphere. They are quick to '
grasp new ideas and to appreciate souncT logic. And the
emotional aura of human relations in a common confronta-
tion of "fate" possesses great value. On the other hand,
American attempts to settle arguments or solve problems
by resort to superior force, economic^j^w^r^^r^n^bbish

62 Social Change in Latin America Today

i prestige will often result in a fanatic and "heroic" opposi-

f tion, regardless of its practical consequences.

It is entirely within the realm of possibility— provided
the United States shows no comprehension of the values
and urgencies of the social revolution now going forward
in Latin America— that some or all of the nations to the
south will choose the path of stubborn opposition to the
"Colossus of the North" or even decide that they can best
fulfill their aspirations by seeking the protection of the

I Communist bloc. This need not happen if both North
Americans andJLatin Americans learn to understand each

([other's cultures and needs.
^Ultimately, it is the task of U.S. policy to lay a general
groundwork for a better understanding of the common
interests and shared aspirations of the two Americas, so
that detailed policies of the nations may be spontaneously
brought into harmony as new or unforeseen problems
demand solutions. Once this is accomplished, such "explo-
sions" as may occur will not be painfully surprising or un-
manageable, and Latin America will be encouraged to
move forward into full participation in the affairs of the
modern world by developing its great human and material
potential, without illusions concerning the mirages offered
by Moscow, and without fears of its big neighbor to the
north.34

S4 This chapter was written before the publication of Professor John
J. Johnson's important book (Political Change in Latin America: The
Emergence of the Middle Sectors [Stanford University Press, 1958]) and
without knowledge of its preparation. It is significant that two students
should independently focus upon the importance of the middle segments
of Latin American society. My first treatment of these matters was pub-
lished in Spanish in 1956. See John Gillin, "Cultura emergente," in Jorge
Luis Arriola, ed., Integracion Social en Guatemala (Guatemala City:
Seminario de Integraci6n Social Guatemalteca, 1956).

Two

CHANGING COMMUNITY ATTITUDES

AND VALUES IN PERU: A CASE

STUDY IN GUIDED CHANGE

by Allan R. Holmberg

In our dealings with Latin Americans we North Ameri-
cans often fail to realize that the ways of life of many of
our southern neighbors are grounded in assumptions and
imperatives which differ in many important respects from
those of our own society. It is difficult for us to realize, for
example, that the "American dream" of equal opportunity
for everyone, of peace, prosperity, and happiness for all,
does not have the same appeal everywhere. For a great
many Latin Americans these goals have never been highly
valued. Indeed, for many they are completely outside the
range of their experience. A widespread ignorance of each
other's cultures has led on both sides to many misunder-
standings and has left behind many distorted images.

Whether we like it or not, both North Americans and
Latin Americans have to learn to live together in the
modern world. But getting along well together— establish-
ing relations of mutual understanding, benefit, and re-
spect—does not mean we have to conform to their standards
of value or they to ours. To arrive at rational policies in
our dealings with Latin America, and to implement them
persuasively, we must have a better understanding of the
basic institutional structures and the value systems of the

64 Social Change in Latin America Today

Latin American nations themselves. Only then can we
appraise the potential effects of current influences from
the outside, including those which come from the United
States, and go on to formulate useful policies for the fu-
ture. In this study I propose to touch on these problems as
they relate to one single country, Peru.

Peru: The Historical Setting for Change

Few nations of Latin America can point to a more
ancient and distinguished cultural heritage than Peru,
where the beginnings of civilization go back many cen-
turies. The earliest remains show that more than 5,000
years ago the irrigated valleys of the desert coast— the
"fertile crescent" of the New World— already supported
settled and industrious populations. Gradually, as these
valleys came to support larger and larger populations
through the development of irrigation and agriculture,
distinctive civilizations and even empires grew strong. In-
deed, long before the arrival of the Spaniards, there were
large and thriving urban centers in most of the oases of
the desert coast. The city of Chan Chan for example, the
capital of the Chimu empire, whose vast remains lie well
preserved just outside the modern city of Trujillo, is
estimated by archaeologists to have had a population of
some 200,000 inhabitants.

Parallel developments were also taking place in the
intermontane valleys of the Andes, as evidenced by the
massive ruins of Chavin de Huantar, which lie on the east
slopes of the Cordillera Blanca, in north-central Peru. In
the first half of the fifteenth century, however, the situa-
tion changed drastically. A relatively small and well-
organized group, now known as the Incas, who had pre-
viously been confined to a small region of mountain valleys
in southern Peru, began a period of warlike expansion
which, in less than a hundred years, established their rule
from Ecuador in the north to Chile in the south, and from
coast to jungle. The Inca empire had from six to eight

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 65

million subjects within its domain, the richest and the
most populous state in pre-Columbian America. Its capital,
Cuzco, then a city of over 200,000 people, is a striking
monument to the Incas' power and wealth.

After overthrowing this great Indian empire, the Span-
iards, bent on exploiting Peru for the crown and them-
selves, gradually wrought profound changes in the patterns
of life which they found there. Peru was stripped of much
of its manpower and wealth, and Spanish colonial institu-
tions were implanted firmly throughout the realm. The
new rulers imposed a rigid class system, with a small
Spanish elite at the top and a great mass of Indians at the
bottom. The new landowners introduced a highly com-
mercialized economic system based on the use of money
and on competition in the international market, where
no market had existed before, and they consolidated
their power through the encomienda, or entail, and later
through the hacienda, or plantation estate. By these
changes the original population was reduced to a state
of social and economic disrespect which persists to the
present day. Both the empire of the Incas and that of the
Spaniards were rigidly stratified along class lines. Thus,
the concept of a natural and hierarchical ordering of soci-
ety, based on an aristocratic tradition, has been an all-
pervasive and dominant theme throughout the history of
Peru. The masses of the people, whether Indian or mestizo,
have been ruled by a small and dominant minority, often
with an iron hand. No change that has yet occurred, unless
it be the new technological revolution now taking place,
has done much to alter this basic fact.

In spite of recent changes, Peru as a whole represents
a fairly rigidly stratified social system. Out of a total popu-
lation of over nine million people, more than three mil-
lion are still classified as Indians. Most of them follow a
way of life derived from the pre-Spanish era, modified, of
course, by the aftereffects of colonial rule which assigned
the Indians to the lowest status within the caste-like social
structure. In this respect, the Andean countries, partic-

66 Social Change in Latin America Today

ularly Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia, stand somewhat apart
from the other nations of South America. Moreover, un-
like Mexico and more recently Bolivia, Peru has under-
gone no sharp break with its traditional past in the form
of a profound political and social revolution. In it, political
power is still closely held and social changes are affecting
the various segments of the people and the various regions
of the country at widely differing rates of speed and im-
pact.

The Geographical Setting and Social Change

As a habitat for man, Peru has been abundantly blessed
and mightily cursed by nature. It contains majestic moun-
tains and fertile valleys, interspersed with barren wastes
and impenetrable jungles. On one point there is substan-
tial agreement. Peru is a land of fantastic geographic and
climatic contrasts among and within its three principal
geographic areas— the coast, the mountains, and the
jungle.1

The coastal plain is a vast desert. Because of cold off-
shore currents in the Pacific, the prevailing westerly winds
lose their moisture before they reach the shore, and the
trade winds from the east discharge theirs before crossing
the maritime range of the Andes. Consequently, that part
of Peru lying between the coast and the higher peaks of
the coastal range, a strip of about 1,400 miles in length
and from 20 to 80 miles in width, is rainless the year
around.

Nevertheless, the coast is the most important part of
Peru, economically, socially, and politically. The Pacific
offers ready access to the outside world while the Andes
provide the rich, silt-bearing rivers which irrigate large,
fan-like valleys of the desert coast and make this region
the most productive agricultural area of Peru. Some forty

1 For a useful review of geographic and demographic factors, see
Thomas R. Ford, Man and Land in Peru (Gainesville: University of
Florida Press, 1955).

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 67

or more of these valleys, divided by barren wastes of twenty
to fifty miles in width, crisscross the coastal plain. For lack
of water, however, only about 5 per cent of the desert
coast, which in turn constitutes only about 10 per cent of
the total area of the country, is actually under cultivation.

From the coastal plain, and sometimes directly from
the sea, rises the Andean mountain chain, covering about
40 per cent of the total area. By almost any standards the
Andes constitute a formidable barrier to human habita-
tion and economic development, for the arable part, or
sierra, consists of a series of intermontane valleys, whose
floors are at about 8,000 feet in altitude, overtowered by
the high wall of the Andes. The even loftier altiplanos, or
high plains, at 12,000 feet or more, are suitable for little
except grazing.

A third geographical area, the montana, or jungle, cover-
ing about 50 per cent of the total area, encompasses the
eastern foothills of the Andes and some parts of the
Amazon flood plain. Belonging to the Amazon drainage
basin, the whole area, potentially rich in natural resources,
lacks both the communications and population necessary
for its further development. It is the home of aboriginal
tribes of the Amazon basin. Historically, this has been the
least significant geographical area of Peru.

Population Distribution and Social Structure

Peru is a nation of relatively unintegrated plural soci-
eties. The Quechua and Aymara Indians, for example, are
but two instances of fragmented social communities, sepa-
rated from each other and from the nation as a whole by
geographic, linguistic, and cultural differences. More sig-
nificant for our discussion are two major groupings, mesti-
zos and Indians. The coast, which contains about 25 per
cent of the total population, is almost exclusively a mes-
tizo area; it is rapidly moving toward a commercial agri-
cultural and industrial economy, with a mobile social
structure founded on an essentially dynamic system of

os Social Change in Latin America Today

v. lines. In in. my icspccts, it is not unlike sonic juris of the

United States,

l he unci Aiiilc.m valleys ami the high plains of the

mountain areas, on the other hand, contain i high per
centagc ol Indians, as well as lower-class mestizos} this
population iocs i>v traditional subsistence farming, under
.1 fairly rigid social structure founded on an essentially

Static and fixed system of v. dues. Between these two

worlds, mestizo and Indian, a rather sharp division of cul«
ture and outlook) which grew up during colonial tunes,

persists down tO the present day. In language, social ami

political organisation, and values, the two groups, ai
though dependent on each other, represent quite distinct
modes oi life, rhis feet constitutes one of the major dilem«

mas now laced by Peru in striving lor national unitv and

social and economic progress goals which arc* given con*
stant lip service, at least, by middle-class policymakers.

in Peru the distinction between mestizos and Indians is
attributed in part to an imputed racial inferiority oi the
Indian, derived from colonial times. However, over the
past foui hundred years, tin* population has become pretty
thoroughly mixed biologically, in Peru today, as fin other
"Indian" countries of Latin America, the assignment oi
an individual to the subordinate group is not determined
primarily on the basis of physical characteristics such as
skin color, as in the case of the Negro in the United States.
it tests largely on a configuration of cultural characteris

tics, among which language, dicss. and manners are most
important, A person who speaks an Indian language, wears

homespun dress, and chews coca will be classed as an In-
dian, it the same person speaks Spanish, wears Western
dress and docs not chew coca he may be classed depend
ing on other characteristics such as family name, occupa
tion, education, and wealth as cither mestizo or white.

In a biological sense, at least. Peru has no racial problem,

its sov.iiicd "i.uiai'" problem is largely a cultural one

l he problem oi achieving a homogeneous national cul

ture is further complicated by the factor of (geographical

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 69

and cultural regionalism. If there are sharp differences be-
tween coast and sierra, the same is also true of the inter-
Andean valleys, which differ greatly in population and
culture because of the barriers which the Andes pose to
ready communication between them. Historically, this has
resulted in a considerable proliferation of local differences
in language and culture within both Indian and mestizo
groups. Even within the two major Indian languages,
Aymara and Quechua, the latter contains a number of
mutually unintelligible dialects.

The wide span of cultural differences is reflected in and
reinforced by the distribution of the mestizo and Indian
populations. About 70 per cent of the total population of
Peru is rural. On the other hand, Lima, with its port,
Callao, is the only city of major commercial, industrial,
and political importance. Other urban centers, with few
exceptions, are little more than farming towns or mining
centers. By and large, the mestizos, most of whom belong
to the lower class, predominate in departmental, pro-
vincial, and district capitals of both the coast and the
sierra. The Indian population, on the other hand, is con-
centrated on large haciendas or in so-called indigenous
communities of the highlands, often isolated physically
from the mestizo world. Of a total of about three million
Indians in Peru, roughly one million live as landless
peones on haciendas, one million as small but independ-
ent farmers in indigenous communities, and one million
detached from the land as workers in mines and mestizo
villages or as migrant laborers and servants. While most
of the Indians live separated from the mestizos by caste
barriers and physical isolation, the hacienda Indians prob-
ably occupy the lowest position, economically and socially,
of all Indian groups. At the top of the status hierarchy, and
centered on the coast, stands a very small upper-class elite
which is considered white.

At least in part because of this hierarchical ordering of
society, which has remained until recently in a kind of
static equilibrium, the relations of the individual to the

70 Social Change in Latin America Today

community and of the community to the nation are very
different from those which are considered customary in the
United States and in some other Latin American nations.
Dependence and submission, rather than independence
and freedom, characterize social relations within the com-
munity and these same themes tend to govern relations be-
tween the community and the nation. In other words, at
one level the mestizo is patron of the Indian; at another,
the government is patron of the community. The close
holding of power, characteristic both of the patron-peon
system and of dictatorial governments, has tended to fore-
stall and discourage any local initiative for change. More-
over, since many governments in Peru— like many patrones
of haciendas— have often played far from beneficent roles,
community attitudes toward government like those of
peon toward patron, have frequently been hostile and
aggressive.

Present Trends of Change

The traditional system is now being subjected to many
inroads. Today there are few communities but that have
been touched, however lightly, by the technological revo-
lution. Coca Cola, the tin can, penicillin, and even the
wrist watch and radio have penetrated to the most remote
haciendas of the Andes. More important, there has been
going on a shift of political power from the landowning
aristocracy of the older type to a more commercially
minded hacendado and a new entrepreneurial class. This
has been matched by a shift in ideology, away from the
maintenance of the status quo, toward the demand for a
more mobile society, one which can eventually provide
sources of skilled labor and a solid market for manufac-
tured goods. Industrialization, of course, has been respon-
sible for most of these changes and demands.

For better or worse, however, the effects of these changes
have thus far been confined largely to the coastal region—
to the big-scale commercial haciendas and the urban
centers. In the sierra changes are much less apparent. The

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 71

coast has been and is the high-status area of Peru; Lima is
the Mecca of prestige, power, and wealth. To gain stature
in the social system, a Peruvian literally comes down from
the heights of the Andes, he does not go up. Apart from a
business venture or a week end in the mountain air, there
is little movement of a permanent nature from coast to
sierra. Such a shift can bring on not only physical soroche
(mountain sickness), but "social soroche" as well. On the
other hand, as a Peruvian comes down from the mountains
and takes root in the coastal area, he not infrequently for-
gets all about the mountain valley where he grew up.

This raises what is perhaps Peru's most serious social
issue. Frequently referred to as the "Indian problem," it
might better be called the problem of the sierra or the
mountain region as a whole, for it involves mestizos as well
as Indians. The sierra is still the backbone of the Peruvian
nation, almost as much as in Inca and colonial times. It
contains Peru's major resources, natural and human.2
Yet, by comparison with what the sierra has contributed
and could contribute to the nation as a whole, it has re-
ceived relatively little in return. Most of its wealth and its
best manpower are siphoned off to the coast. In my opin-
ion, until new attitudes toward the sierra are accepted both
in the sierra and on the coast, particularly new attitudes
toward the indigenous population, Peru is destined to re-
main a relatively "underdeveloped" nation.

Of course, many changes have recently been taking place
in some types of sierra communities. Since the 1930's, and
indeed even before that, an active program of road-build-
ing has greatly lessened the isolation of the highlands from
the coast. It is possible now to go by car and truck to most
mestizo towns and villages of the highlands, even though
they are often cut off in the rainy season. Although trade
has increased greatly between highlands and coast, most of

*I have not considered the montana, or jungle, region because it is
still largely unpopulated, and mass migrations to it are not likely to take
place in the immediate future. Much capital will be needed to develop
this area.

72 Social Change in Latin America Today

the many changes that have followed have been techno-
logical, not social or ideological, in character. The one ex-
ception has been the tenure of the APRA party.3 Although
APRA took important steps toward breaking the caste bar-
riers, spreading power more widely, reforming the land
system, and promoting higher standards of living and edu-
cation among Indians and lower-class mestizos, it was over-
thrown before it could consolidate these gains. Since the
failure to bring social change to the most numerous, iso-
lated, and depressed groups, the processes of change have
reverted to the traditional social channels and therefore
are felt primarily in mestizo communities. The gap be-
tween social groups is widened in turn by the fact that
influences coming from the coast to the highlands are car-
ried there largely by mestizos who subscribe to upper-class
values, among which "keeping the Indian in his place"
ranks high. Consequently, Indian communities, particu-
larly hacienda communities, have remained much the
same.

One by-product of the growing contacts of mestizo high-
land villages with the coast deserves special mention.
Increased geographical mobility has led many young mesti-
zos, both men and women, to leave their sierra villages for
greener pastures in urban centers and on the coast. In one
such mestizo village a community study found relatively
few people between sixteen and forty.4 As no one is left
except the Indians to do the work, mestizo villages in the
sierra have come to depend more and more on the sur-
rounding Indian population.

More and better roads have, of course, also had their
effects on Indian villages. Though in the highlands most
large haciendas and many Indian communities still lack
roads to connect them with the highway system, they all

3 Alianza Popular Revolucionaria Americana, the party headed by
Victor Raul Haya de la Torre; the latter has recently been in Peru
again after a long period of exile.

4 See Humberto Ghersi, El indigena y el mestizo en la communidad
de Marcara, PhJD. thesis, University of San Marcos, Lima, 1954.

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 73

have access to some market town which is tied in with it.
Yet, the greatly increased geographical mobility of the In-
dians has had little effect on their highland communities.
The explanation is not far to seek. It is possible, though
not easy, for an Indian to move to the coast and become
assimilated in mestizo society. Within the sierra, however,
it is much more difficult for him to lose his identity as an
Indian. Strong pressures operate within and between both
castes, Indian and mestizo, to keep him in his place.

Frequently an Indian who has lived on the coast as a
worker or a soldier, has enjoyed a higher standard of living
and a period of freedom from the rigid pattern of village
custom, and has learned Spanish and adopted new values
and attitudes, finds himself in a situation of considerable
conflict when he returns to his highland village. He is no
longer satisfied to conform to Indian standards, yet he is
not accepted by mestizo society. Within his Indian com-
munity, where standing is based on age and wealth, he
finds no channels through which to express his coast-
acquired enlightenment and skills. By mestizo society,
where prestige is based largely on descent, he is again as-
signed to the lower caste.

What can the "displaced" Indian do? He can go native
again, sometimes under worse conditions than before be-
cause pressure on the land has been mounting. He can re-
turn to the coast. There, because of increased immigration
and the lag in economic development, opportunities for
employment better than he can find in the highlands have
been steadily falling behind the growing demand. As a
result, while individual Indians are being increasingly as-
similated into the national society, the communities from
which they come remain much the same. This situation is
likely to prevail unaltered until some direct attack is made
on the traditional caste structure. Only then will it be pos-
sible to foster social and cultural change among the Indian
population in their own villages.

Perhaps the greatest barrier to any change in this social
system is the persistence in the sierra of an outmoded but

74 Social Change in Latin America Today

powerful institution, the haciendas or latifundia. In many
respects this institution, which governs the lives of more
than one million Indians, does not differ substantially
from what it was in Spain of the Middle Ages. Yet, there is
encouraging evidence that, where Indians live under con-
ditions of greater independence and freedom as they do in
indigenous non-hacienda communities, changes in atti-
tudes, values, and behavior are occurring at a faster rate.
In many non-hacienda villages, which have owned their
own lands from pre-Columbian times and have enjoyed a
large measure of local autonomy, the spirit of community
solidarity and cooperation is fairly strong.

This does not hold true for the haciendas, in which the
individual's sense of responsibility to the group and the
continuity of effective local leadership were largely de-
stroyed under the colonial regime. In terms of fostering a
modern and even democratic development, the non-land-
lord Indian communities do not present nearly as great or
as many problems as do the haciendas or the mestizo vil-
lages, for their built-in traditions of responsible local lead-
ership enable them to act as a group. When they feel
threatened by the outside world, they can defend them-
selves jointly against it; when attracted by it, they have
group mechanisms for adjusting to the desired change.5

5 Perhaps a note of caution should be injected at this point. There
exists in Peru and abroad a somewhat distorted image of the indigenous
peoples of the Andes as fundamentally cooperative and among whom
the group spirit runs high. In this view, some four hundred years of
harsh and brutal exposure to the outside world have done little to
upset the collectivistic patterns which were a heritage of pre-Columbian
times. The evidence usually cited is that over one million Indians still
live in "indigenous communities" where they share and share alike, and
that even on haciendas cooperative patterns are the rule. Actually this
is not so. Present research indicates that, while it is true that the in-
digenous populations are united to a man when it comes to defending
the group against the outside world, for example against an encroachment
upon their lands, internally they are little influenced by a spirit of group
loyalty or altruism. Individualism runs high in most indigenous com-
munities, particularly in haciendas. Social responsibilities seldom extend
beyond immediate kinship groups. For this reason, it is likely that the
differential distribution of such values as power and wealth is as marked
in most Indian communities as in the population at large. This appears

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 75

This is in sharp contrast to the hacienda system where the
patron alone holds the reins of power and where his inter-
ests are strongly opposed to those of the group, or even to
mestizo villages over which the national administration
exerts a centralized control, sometimes with a very strong
hand.

In order to catch up with the modern world, Peru must
break the chain of dependency relationships that bind all
levels of the present social structure. Both the caste struc-
ture of the society and the latifundia system of the sierra
are destined to disappear. In fact, they are already doomed.
The question is whether they will disappear in a fairly
gradual and orderly manner, as has happened in many
parts of the coast, or whether this change will take place
suddenly and by more drastic means, as in Mexico and
Bolivia.

Present trends indicate that Peru may succeed in gradu-
ally assimilating the Indian and other depressed popula-
tions into the wider national community by peaceful
means if the government continues a policy of giving more
and more active encouragement to the sierra in the fields
of education, health, and economic development. If these
policies are not continued and strengthened, there may
well arise a pan-Indian or pan-peasant movement, as in
Bolivia, which would usurp the power of government and
initiate drastic reform. In this connection, it is significant
that in Peru the strongest center of Communist activity is
in Cuzco, the former capital of the Inca empire.

Peru's Indian Problem

Valiant efforts have been made and are being made by
the national government, as well as by international and
private agencies operating in Peru, to offset the dangers of
the unbalanced development of some regions to the
neglect of others. The sierra has long been recognized as

to be the case at least in most areas where modern research has been
carried out.

76 Social Change in Latin America Today

a problem, and the montana has been pictured, quite un-
realistically, as a future paradise. Yet, both the financial
resources available and the training of the people have
been sadly inadequate to foster the industrial development
of any but the coastal regions, with the exception of some
mining areas, which, however, contain a relatively small
part of the total population.

It has been relatively easy to modernize and industrial-
ize the large haciendas of the coast. As a result of the im-
proved standards of living and education, the people of
this area have largely assimilated the values of a modern
industrial society, at least to a point where they can now
move ahead under their own steam as rapidly as economic
factors will permit. The plain fact of the matter is, how-
ever, that the coast does not have the immediate economic
potential to absorb the accelerating migrations from the
sierra that have been taking place in recent years. Both the
push exerted by pressure on land in the sierra and the pull
of the positive attractions of the coast, with its higher
wages and better standards of living, have created an un-
balanced type of development within Peru as a whole, a
situation that gives rise to great concern. So grave has this
problem become, in fact, that a few years ago the national
congress gave serious thought to prohibiting further mi-
grations from the highlands to the coast. However unreal-
istic this attempt at a solution would be, policy-makers
have come increasingly to recognize that, if Peru is to
achieve any kind of integrated development as a nation,
more attention must be paid to the neglected areas, the
highlands and the jungle.

Peru's basic problems in developing its vast jungle areas
are going to be technical and economic in character. What
they need above all is more people and more capital. Given
the economic situation of Peru, these are not likely to be
supplied in the directly foreseeable future. The sierra also
suffers from overpopulation, as well as from a lack of capi-
tal, but in addition its people are poorly equipped to face
the stresses of adjusting rapidly to the industrial influences

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 77

exerted by the coast. Herein lie difficulties of the greatest
magnitude. Recent governments, it is true, have recog-
nized that the maldistribution of population cannot be
solved solely through migration to the coast. Through en-
couraging private investment in the overpopulated sierra,
backed by the state-owned Santa Corporation, the Peru-
vian government is trying to create many new jobs in the
valleys of the sierra, especially in processing locally pro-
duced commodities and in small-scale industries.

Nevertheless, the success of new developments in in-
dustry and agriculture in the mountain areas will depend
primarily on the ability of the Indian and mestizo subsist-
ence farmers, often landless, to make a reasonably satisfac-
tory adjustment to a new way of life based on commercial
agriculture and industry. Now living under the domina-
tion of whites and mestizos, the Indians are too poor to
buy land, even when it comes on the market, and the land
on which they live has been steadily declining in fertility.
In many instances, they are obliged to work off tenant obli-
gations without pay. They are badly undernourished and
are without health and educational facilities. Many are
victims of coca and alcohol.

These and other frustrating conditions have combined
to produce in the Indian communities deep-seated atti-
tudes of distrust, fear, suspicion, and even hate toward the
outside world. Precisely because of these attitudes, they
have so far resisted and are likely to go on resisting the
halfhearted, piecemeal, unintegrated attempts at modern-
ization which have been initiated thus far by more "en-
lightened" hacendados and industrialists or by the Peruvian
government. The plain fact is that social and economic
conditions among the highland populations, especially the
Indians, have reached such an alarming state that only a
large-scale and well-coordinated effort to promote change
can enable them to find a place in the modern world, by
making them a productive force in an emerging demo-
cratic society.

Studies that have been made of highland communities

78 Social Change in Latin America Today

in Peru clearly support the logic of undertaking a broad
and integrated approach to change among the Indians. In
fact, this is the only approach with much promise of win-
ning enthusiastic acceptance among the Indians. Beneath
a profoundly pessimistic outlook on life, derived from long
experience, they feel strongly the need for, and desire,
drastic changes in many aspects of their present mode of
life. Fortunately, they are not completely apathetic to the
broader outside world, nor to the hope that they may soon
be given an opportunity to improve their lot within the
nation. This hope is clearly reflected in the vigor with
which they occasionally defend what few rights they now
possess and by the diligence, dignity, and pride with which
they assume obligations of leadership and responsibility
in their own society. It is likely that, if given opportunities
to develop a more progressive and optimistic outlook on
the world, the Indians will adjust fairly rapidly to modern
conditions and will assume a productive and responsible
place in Peruvian national life. Actually, the hope of the
Andean countries, not only Peru but Bolivia and Ecuador
as well, lies in the mountain regions with their masses of
hard-working peasants. It is no less true, however, that,
unless the Indian populations are increasingly provided
with opportunities and assistance in changing their way of
life and improving their lot markedly, present conditions
of unrest and dissatisfaction can lead to more and bloodier
revolutions, as has happened in Bolivia, or, at the least, to
extreme and continuing conflicts in the process of their
adjustment to modern life.

A Pilot Attempt at Social Change6

To document the problems and potentials of social
change among the Indians of Peru, it may be helpful to

6 Some of the findings have been treated elsewhere. See Allan R. Holm-
berg, "Participant Intervention in the Field," Human Organization,
Spring 1955, pp. 23-26; and William Foote Whyte and Allan R. Holmberg,
"Human Problems of U.S. Enterprise in Latin America," same, Fall 1956,
pp. 15-18.

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru

review one current attempt to incorporate a community of
hacienda Indians into a more modern way of life, one
which will also be in keeping with the sierra environment.
In 1952, in collaboration with the Indigenous Institute of
Peru and with the support of the Peruvian government,
Cornell University undertook a systematic program of re-
search and development in order to determine how an
Indian population would respond to a concerted effort to
introduce it to a more modern way of life. The community
selected was Vicos, a hacienda situated in an inter- Andean
valley, Callejon de Huaylas, about 250 miles northeast of
Lima. Known for its conservatism and its hostility to the
outside world until 1952, this hacienda had undergone
little change since it was first established in the colonial
period, over four hundred years ago.

Surrounded by snow-capped peaks, some of which rise
to over 20,000 feet, the hacienda of Vicos has a land area
of about 35,000 acres, of which some 7,000 are now under
cultivation or are used for grazing. It is rocky and hilly,
with elevations of about 9,000 to 14,000 feet. The lower
slopes of the hacienda are used principally for farming,
the most important crops being maize, potatoes, barley,
wheat, beans, and quinoa. The higher slopes are utilized
solely for pasturing animals, particularly cattle and sheep.

Like some two or three hundred similar properties,
Vicos belongs to the state and until recently was leased out
to the highest bidder at public auctions held every ten
years. Attached to the land, but owning none of it, were
some 1,850 Quechua-speaking Indians, in over three hun-
dred families, most of whom live on small and scattered
subsistence farmsteads on the lower slopes of the hacienda,
constituting roughly 90 per cent of the arable land. The
remaining 10 per cent of the land, or about five hundred
acres, was formerly farmed for commercial purposes by the
lessee of the hacienda. The necessary Indian labor was sup-
plied without charge, except for a small gratuity to buy
coca. By custom one adult member of each household was
obligated to pay a labor tax of three days each week to the

80 Social Change in Latin America Today

hacienda in return for the right to occupy a small plot of
land supposedly sufficient to support his family. In addi-
tion to the labor tax, which also involved the unpaid use
of the Indians' domestic animals, the peones were obli-
gated by turn to supply the hacienda and its employees
with certain free services as cooks, grooms, watchmen,
shepherds, and servants. For failing to fulfill these obliga-
tions a peon could be dispossessed of his tools, his animals,
or his plot of land.

Until the Cornell group assumed responsibility for the
administration and development of Vicos, power— eco-
nomic, political, and judicial— was completely concen-
trated in the hands of a single individual, the patron.
Thus the fate of each peon depended almost completely
upon him. Theoretically, he held control of all the lands
of the hacienda and of all of the people living within its
boundaries. In this respect the patron was not unlike a
feudal baron. Actually, about the only area of life on
which his authority did not impinge was that of religion,
for which the parish priest and Indian officials were re-
sponsible. This does not mean that the Indian community
had no organization of its own. A local mayor, who also
appointed a number of assistants, was selected annually by
a process which may be loosely termed an election. But the
responsibility and authority of these village officials did
not go much beyond the conduct of religious life within
the community. They had little or nothing to say in mat-
ters of secular concern, which remained exclusively the
province of the patron.

As a result, positions of responsibility in public affairs
were lacking in the life of Vicos, adequate leadership did
not develop, almost no public services were maintained,
and the community was in a highly disorganized state.
Apart from alliances with immediate kinship groups and
a common devotion to religious practices, particularly the
fiesta of the local saint, there were almost no values that
were widely shared among the members of the Vicos com-
munity. At the same time standards of living were at a

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 81

bare minimum.7 Health and nutritional levels were ex-
tremely low.8 Educational facilities and consequently skills
were almost completely lacking. Cooperation within the
community was the exception rather than the rule, and
resistance to the outside world was high. Attitudes toward
life were static and pessimistic. Such, in fact, were the con-
ditions prevailing among the Indian population of Vicos
when the Cornell group assumed control. Similar condi-
tions are found on many haciendas and in many Indian
communities of the highlands.9

Changing this state of affairs, without a large investment
of resources or without a revolution, would seem at first
glance to be an almost insoluble problem. To be sure, it
was and still is no easy task. Yet it is not as hopeless as it
might seem. In the case of Vicos, at any rate, it has been
possible, on the basis of careful studies carried out in ad-
vance of initiating any action, to design a modest program

7 Surveys indicate that the differential distribution of the lands among
I the Indian population at Vicos was very great. Many families held less
i than an acre while others farmed as much as thirty or forty acres. The
:j per capita distribution of crop land among the Indian population is about
\ an acre, at least one-half of which is on rocky and upland soil. Cited from

an unpublished manuscript by Robert Stevens of Cornell University on
agricultural production on the Hacienda Vicos, 1954.

8 Recent studies by Dr. Carlos Collazos and collaborators (Journal
of the American Dietetic Association, v. 30 [1953], pp. 1222-1230) indicate
that the Indians of Vicos have a per capita consumption of about 1,500
calories per day. This is only about 70 per cent of the recommended mini-
mum for reasonably good health. In addition to caloric deficiency,
nutrition surveys indicate that the Indians have an extremely low intake

I of calcium and vitamin A. All families at Vicos consumed less than 75 per

!cent of the recommended amounts.
On some aspects of health in the highlands of Peru, see E. H. Payne,
L. Gonzales-Mugaburu, and E. M. Schleicher, "An Intestinal Parasite
! Survey in the High Cordilleras of Peru," American Journal of Tropical
Medicine and Hygiene, July 1956, pp. 696-698. These investigators found
' a very high rate of such parasites as pinworm, roundworm, and amoebic
\ dysentery on the Hacienda Vicos and in other communities of Callejdn
de Huaylas. Recent investigations at Vicos by Dr. Marshall Newman of
the Smithsonian Institution indicate, however, that Indians have a very
i low rate of heart disease and high blood pressure, characteristic of modern
I civilization (personal communication).

9 See, for example, William W. Stein, Hualcan: An Andean Indian
( Estancia, Ph.D. thesis, Cornell University, Ithaca, N.Y., 1955.

82 Social Change in Latin America Today

of technical assistance and education which has gained
fairly wide acceptance and has helped to awaken most
members of the community to new opportunities for im-
proving their lot through their own efforts. I must again
stress, however, that only a broad and integrated approach
to problems of development made it possible to reach the
desired goals of higher standards of living, social respect,
and a self-reliant and enlightened community which can
eventually take responsibility for the direction of its own
affairs as a functioning part of the nation. Under this ap-
proach, every effort was made to tackle each problem in
terms of understanding and respecting the local culture,
the only basis on which lasting changes can be understood
by the community as desirable and can be accepted by it.

From the beginning the Vicos project has been con-
ducted with a minimum of outside personnel and funds.10
Except for graduate students engaged exclusively in re-
search, and agencies of the Peruvian government normally
operating in the area, not more than two North Americans
and two Peruvians have at any time been concerned di-
rectly with the administrative and developmental aspects
of the Vicos program.

On the basis of preliminary anthropological and tech-
nical studies and after consultation with the residents of
the hacienda concerning their needs and hopes, it was pos-
sible to initiate a unified program of change centered on
three major areas of development: economics and tech-
nology, nutrition and health, and education. To these

10 Most of the funds for research and development at Vicos have
been provided by grants from the Carnegie Corporation of New York to
Cornell University. In addition, the author has received special research
funds from the Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research,
Inc., and the Social Science Research Council. The Peruvian government
has also been most generous in its support of the project and in supplying
technical and scientific personnel. Particular thanks are due to the follow-
ing people, all of whom at one time or another have been associated with
the Cornell-Peru project: Dr. Carlos Monge M., president of the Indig-
enous Institute of Peru and co-director of the project; Dr. William C.
Blanchard, Dr. Humberto Ghersi, Sr. Enrique Luna, Dr. William Mangin,
Miss Joan Snyder, and Dr. Mario Vazquez.

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 83

should be added a fourth area, that of social organization,
although, because of the deeply ingrained nature of the
hacienda system, it was neither desirable nor feasible to
move rapidly in this area at the outset. In all these areas
of activity some people in Vicos felt the need for improve-
ment; hence, they were responsive to suggestions for in-
novation. In fact, these were also areas in which change
was absolutely necessary if the research and development
program was to reach its two fundamental goals: changing
the initial and predicted image of the project members
from one of hostile patrones to that of friendly consultants
and observers; and developing within the community in-
dependent and dynamic problem-solving and decision-
making organizations which could gradually assume the
responsibilities of leadership in public affairs in a rational
and humane manner and along democratic lines.

To promote movement toward these general ends, the
project leaders designed a great many specific steps. In the
first place, many of the abuses under the traditional ha-
cienda system could be eliminated from the very start.
Interviews with a large sample of villagers showed, for
example, that the obligations which were most irksome to
the Indians were not, as might be expected, the three-day
labor service which they rendered for the right to use their
plots of land. They were, rather, the additional unrecom-
pensed services they had to provide to the hacienda and its
employees. Under previous administrations, for example,
a man might suddenly be called out for a tour of duty as
a shepherd for the hacienda, or a woman as a cook, just
when their services were most urgently needed at home.
In such matters abuses had apparently been frequent in
the past and feelings in the community ran high. Under
a more enlightened approach it proved possible to abolish
these free services and to hire paid employees, training
them to assume a genuine responsibility for their new jobs.
One example will illustrate the kind of change that was
introduced.

On the upper part of the hacienda is a large grazing area

84 Social Change in Latin America Today

known as the Quebrada Honda. This is a glaciated canyon
which provides the only route to other valleys across the
mountains from Vicos. Here both the patrdn and the In-
dians traditionally grazed their cattle. The canyon served
also as a public trail, and since distances were great it was
customary for pack trains coming to and from a mining
area over the passes (a three-day journey) to spend at least
one night in the Quebrada Honda. For the right to pasture
their animals there, muleteers were required to pay a small
fee to the hacienda, and the collection point was at the
narrow mouth of the canyon, which also served as a check
point to prevent the theft of cattle. Traditionally, peones
had to perform a period of free duty at this post, but, since
this gave them no rewards, abuses were rife. "Deals" were
made with muleteers; cattle were stolen; and animals were
allowed to despoil fields. All this caused considerable loss
to the hacienda and to the Indians themselves, much more
than was gained by the tax. Simply by placing at the check
point an Indian employee who then received the toll as his
income, it was possible to reduce this loss to a minimum.
Actually it resulted in a saving for the hacienda and for
the Indians as well.

In addition to eliminating the worse direct abuses of
the hacienda system, it was necessary to take positive steps
toward solving other problems, first of all in the sphere of
economic life. Unless the output of the Indian households
and the hacienda fields could be raised substantially, it
would not be possible to support the institutions necessary
for the adjustment of Vicos to modern life except on a wel-
fare or gift basis, and this is not a likely prospect in Peru,
considering the state of its economy and the nature of its
power structure. Nor would a welfare approach lead to a
solid type of development, rooted in the desires and re-
sponsibilities of the community itself.

In the area of economic activity positive steps could be
and were taken, for the desire to improve the community's
livelihood existed, at least in a dormant state. Wealth is

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 85

held in high esteem in the Indian community. Unlike
mestizo communities, in it the genealogical factor is of
little or no significance in assigning positions of prestige in
the social structure. To accumulate wealth in an agrarian
society like Vicos, however, the peasant must work hard
and also be frugal. It is through physical labor that he
gains dignity and it is through frugality that he accumu-
lates wealth. These values, too, contrast sharply with those
of mestizo society, in which people go to extreme limits to
avoid the indignity of physical labor and attach a high
value to conspicuous consumption.

This does not mean that an Indian is willing to labor
long and well under all conditions. In most instances he
will do so only when he is working for himself or within his
own culture. When working outside this framework, un-
der conditions in which he is held in disrespect and gen-
erally receives little in the way of reward, he usually tries
to get by with as little effort as he can. This was true under
the traditional hacienda system at Vicos, and labor pro-
ductivity was much lower on hacienda fields than on the
Indians' individual plots. As economic rewards to the In-
dians have increased, as well as their self-respect, the im-
proved productivity has more than offset the cost of the
additional investments required.

Today, the "miracles" of modern science make it pos-
sible to increase agricultural output sharply, even in the
steep and rock-strewn fields of the Andes, as has been
proved at Vicos. Poor soil was not the only factor responsi-
ble. Seed had degenerated; inherited techniques, such as
row spacing, were outmoded; adequate fertilizers were un-
available; the use of insecticides against plant diseases was
unheard of. The motto at Vicos was, as it still is in most of
the mountain areas of Peru, "plant and pray"— a formula
that has not always produced very good crops.

At just about the time the Cornell-Peru project was be-
ing launched at Vicos, the potato crop, the Indians' main-
stay, had failed because of a blight which affected the

86 Social Change in Latin America Today

entire region, On the basis of good technical advice,11 it
was found not only that this blight could readily be con-
trolled but that the potato crop could be greatly increased
by following a few simple rules: adequate preparation and
fertilizing of the soil; healthy and disinfected seed; proper
weeding and cultivation; and periodic spraying with in-
secticides. Presented with this formula for increasing their
potato yields, the Indians did not immediately scramble
to adopt the practices suggested. Many were too poor to
purchase the necessary supplies. Others had no land to
plant. Still others— in fact, most of the people, including
local Indian leaders— were suspicious of any advice or aid
that came from the outside.

In the end, the Cornell project worked out a plan by
which the Indians could buy the necessary supplies on
credit, paying it off at the end of the season with a share
of the crop. This arrangement was sufficiently attractive
to a small group of Indian families so that some new agri-
cultural practices were at least initiated within the com-
munity. Actually, yields of healthy potatoes more than
doubled the first year, with the dramatic result that the
new practices were adopted by almost all Indian families
within the next two years. Today it is almost impossible
to find anyone who plants by the old traditional methods.
Since then, it should be added, Vicos has become the larg-
est producer of potatoes in the region; yields have in-
creased, in some instances as much as 400 per cent. In
short, potatoes, in addition to serving as a main subsistence
item, have also become a commercial crop, providing In-
dian families with much-needed cash to buy other neces-
sities.12

11 Supplied by the Servicio Cooperative Interamericano de Producci6n
de Alimentos, a branch of the Institute of Inter -American Affairs.

12 A full account of this experiment can be found in Mario Vazquez,
A Study of Technological Change in Vicos, Peru, M.A. thesis, Cornell
University, Ithaca, N.Y., 1955. In 1958, the community of Vicos sold
262,000 kilograms of potatoes on the Lima market and with the profits
made a substantial down payment on the purchase of the hacienda lands.
In addition, it is now conducting its own Point Four program in several
other communities, to pass on the improved techniques to its neighbors.

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 87

This is simply one example of what can be done through
a bootstrap operation to raise both the economic level of
the Indian household and the production of food. When
we examine the important increases in food production
which can be brought about in Peru and elsewhere
through the patient and careful introduction of more mod-
ern methods, the sierra of Peru no longer stands out as the
area of poor resources that it has always been considered.
The Vicos experience indicates so far that dramatic results
can be achieved at a relatively small cost. They can be at-
tained, however, only if careful attention is given, not only
to the problem of modern techniques, but also to the peo-
ple and their culture. For this reason, from the very start
the Cornell-Peru project has given careful thought to the
problem of developing a spirit of independence, responsi-
bility, and leadership in community affairs— a spirit that
had never existed before except in the sphere of religious
life.

Toward New Community Leadership

When the Cornell-Peru project first assumed control at
Vicos, the making of decisions in most matters of secular
concern was almost wholly vested in one individual, the
patron, who was not a member of the Indian community.
On the hacienda the direct supervision of work was in the
hands of six Indian leaders or foremen, called mayorales,
traditionally appointed by the patron. Although selected
to represent the patron's interest, they were also people of
status in the community at large, particularly in those
districts from which they came and in which they had
direct supervision of the labor force. Most of them had
previously occupied important positions in the politico-
religious hierarchy of the Indian community through
which prestige and power are gained. All of them were
old men, hence highly respected in the traditional com-
munity.

The project was concerned with transferring power to
the community, not with retaining it, as in the traditional
hacienda system. As a first step, it was necessary to estab-

88 Social Change in Latin America Today

lish some local group, as representative as possible, with
which it could share the power of making decisions. Be-
cause of their knowledge, experience, and prestige, the
body of mayorales was selected to assist the project in di-
recting the economic and social affairs of the hacienda, for
example, in settling conflicts over land and cattle. As this
group developed greater skill, more and more responsi-
bility was delegated to it. The project leaders met in
weekly session with these six men; with friendly guidance
and encouragement, they soon began to take a perspective
somewhat broader than their original vested-interest or
"dog-eat-dog" outlook on hacienda and community affairs.
In addition to these sessions, all decisions made by this
group were discussed with the labor force as a whole so
that necessary modifications could be made in the interests
of the community at large.

Through the use of these and similar methods, together
with positive advice and assistance in matters of economic
development and social respect, of health and education
for all members of the community, the way was cleared to
promote better understanding and greater self-reliance and
to seek out reasonable solutions to community problems.
Over several years a number of groups have been organ-
ized and trained to assume creative leadership in various
aspects of life, including economic development, nutrition
and health, education, and political affairs. These groups
gradually learned to assume more and more responsibility
for community affairs and developed a growing ability to
work together without serious frictions. Finally, in 1957,
when the project had prepared the ground for giving up
its control of the hacienda, that control could then be
transferred completely to an elected body of proven lead-
ers. The Vicosinos had come of age, not without turmoil
and strain.

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 89

New Goals in Education and Health

Perhaps the most significant change that has occurred at
Vicos is that education for the children and for the vil-
lagers has now become both a possibility and a goal. In
the whole process of changing practices and perspectives
within this peasant community, education and enlighten-
ment have played the key role. It was assumed from the
very beginning of the project that, without a carefully de-
signed program of education, both formal and informal,
it would be impossible either to establish or perpetuate
whatever changes were proposed, in ways of work or of
thinking. For this reason a basic rule in the Vicos experi-
ment has been to find out first what the community aspired
to achieve and then, through the formation or strengthen-
ing of local groups, as in the case of the mayorales, to place
these goals in a broader setting, so that in achieving them
the community would also be building a body of knowl-
edge, skills, and attitudes which would in turn foster in it
a solid and self-reliant growth. In the long run this kind
of growth can only take place through education in the
broad sense of the word.

Something of the educational problem in the sierra, as
well as the significance of education for the future develop-
ment of the Indians of Peru, can be gleaned from a brief
review of the Vicos experience. When a member of the
Cornell-Peru project first came to study Vicos in 1949, he
found that a primary school had already been in operation
for the past nine years. Yet he was unable to find a single
child of primary-school age who could read or write, either
in Spanish or in his own tongue. A little Spanish was
spoken by a mere handful of young men, most of it learned
during their army service.

On investigation, the reasons for this situation soon be-
came apparent. For one thing, under the traditional ha-
cienda system, no support was given by the owner to
education. Hacienda patrones were concerned not with

90 Social Change in Latin America Today

developing an enlightened population but with maintain-
ing the status quo. For them, children were a source of
unskilled labor which might be lost once they were given
the opportunity to learn new skills and acquire new values.

In the second place, the parents of the children resisted
the idea of providing an education for their children. To
a certain extent this was attributable to defects in the na-
tional educational system as well as to the conditions in
which it functioned under the traditional hacienda sys-
tem. In Peru, Indian villages such as Vicos are frequently
supplied with unprepared and ineffective teachers who are
not qualified for a teaching post in an urban center. Con-
versely, such teachers often seek appointments to Indian
areas in order to retain their professional status as teach-
ers. Even if the teachers are conscientious in their efforts,
they frequently come into conflict with patrones and are
not given any facilities to live and work. More often, per-
haps, being mestizos, they share the prejudices of the out-
side world and thus tend to treat Indian children as
inferior and put them to work as servants and gardeners
instead of teaching them badly needed skills. An Indian
parent who observes these abuses— and they occur fre-
quently—sees no reason to send his children to school,
particularly when their labor is badly needed at home.

At Vicos, the teaching post and facilities were so inade-
quate that only the poorest teachers accepted an appoint-
ment there. The children who actually attended school
had to sit on the ground in an outside and drafty corridor
of a crumbling adobe building where the teacher herself
lived in poverty and misery. In any single year the total
school population had never exceeded fifteen to twenty
pupils out of a possible 350, and none of them had ever
had more than a year or two of the poorest possible train-
ing. Moreover, it was almost unheard of to send a girl to
school. No wonder the process of learning was not highly
valued! In the traditional hacienda system there was
simply no place or need for education, as can be clearly

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 91

seen by the following figures on the state of education at
Vicos in the latter part of 1951:

Had not gone to school l>57^

Were going at the time 36

Could read and write (very poorly) 5

It may be added that of the 36 pupils then at school many
had been encouraged in this by the influence of the Cor-
nell-Peru project, which had only recently been initiated.

The first efforts at education, in any formal sense, were
directed toward improving the facilities and training avail-
able for children as well as for younger adults. First, the
leaders of the project had to win some measure of con-
fidence within the community, largely through the visible
rewards of economic progress and through the spirit of
mutual respect fostered by sharing the making of decisions.
Only then did they begin holding numerous meetings with
parents, Indian leaders, and teachers to discuss the build-
ing of a school which would be adequate to provide at
least a primary education for all children of the com-
munity. At the same time, abuses in the old system, such
as absenteeism of teachers and the use of pupils as servants,
were abolished. New rewards for good attendance were pro-
vided. Since many children had to come from as far away
as a half-hour on foot, a school lunch program was initi-
ated to provide better nutrition. Since many of the Indian
families were desperately poor, this in itself may have
provided the primary stimulus for more than tripling the
school population after the first year of the lunch program.

Other means of support for schooling were found gradu-
ally. The Ministry of Education sent more and better
teachers. The community set about building a new school-
house. By the end of the second year, the first wing of a
modern school had been finished. By the end of the third
year, a second wing was being built, including a spacious
auditorium which is now used also for community func-
tions.

92 Social Change in Latin America Today

All labor for this development, and a large part of the
material, much of it made locally, were provided by mem-
bers of the Indian community, organized, supervised, and
trained by project personnel. Many new building skills
were thus added to the occupational inventory of the com-
munity. One assumption that we made in planning the
project was that, unless most members of the community
made some contribution to the construction of the new
school, few of them would have any interest in putting it
to use. The more members who pitched in to help build
it, the more who would feel entitled to a return on their
investment in the form of sending their children to school.
This assumption was borne out, as shown in the records
of school attendance from 1951 to 1957:

Number of
Year School Attendance Teachers

l95*

14-18

1952

30-35

*953

35-6o

1954

85-90

1955

110-120

l95$

180-190

1957

200-250

By 1958 over 250 pupils were registered in the school, and
the number of teachers had increased to eight.

In Vicos there are actually two schools in operation, one
for girls and one for boys. Although the ratio of boys to
girls is still about three to one, nevertheless a large pro-
portion of both boys and girls have had several years of
continuity in their education, a thing which was previ-
ously almost unheard of. The classification of the school
has also been changed. Starting at a primary level, it has
been raised to a pre-industrial category. This means that
technical training is provided in agriculture and the in-
dustrial arts, in addition to the regular curriculum of
Peruvian primary schools. An adult education program
has also been initiated through which younger adults are

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 93

rapidly becoming literate and acquiring useful skills
needed for providing a more enlightened leadership in
the direction of community affairs. In 1957, a nucleo
escolar, a. kind of central school, was formed at Vicos, which
also provides educational services to nearby communities.

In terms of the future, one of the most important results
of the program at Vicos is that the educational process is
becoming a fully accepted value within the community.
One index of this is the change which has been taking
place in the parents* own behavior and attitudes. Not only
are they sending their children to school increasingly, in
some instances at a considerable sacrifice, but they are
growing prouder of their children's attainments. I remem-
ber well one father who pointed with great pride to a
letter he had just received in the handwriting of his own
son, who had been to school at Vicos and was then on
a vacation visit to another part of the country. Previously
all such letters had been written by scribes.

The parents have shown in still other ways their changed
attitude toward education. They are attending school
events in steadily increasing numbers, until the gradua-
tion exercises have become a kind of secular fiesta. A few
parents have taken responsibility for helping the teachers
stimulate a wider interest in education throughout the
community. There has been some success in forming a
committee of parents and teachers for maintaining and
improving school facilities. While the school has been
transferred to the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Educa-
tion, the responsibility for running and improving it is
entirely in the hands of the community.

The acceptance of education as a value is also reflected
in the behavior of the school children at Vicos. In many
instances the acquiring of skills has enabled them to enjoy
new prestige at home and to compete successfully in the
outside world. This in turn has led to an increasingly
optimistic outlook on life and on their prospects for the
future. Perhaps more than any other aspect of the Vicos
program, the school has become a symbol of progress and

94 Social Change in Latin America Today

of hope for the future. As it happens, no other community
of the region, and few rural communities anywhere in
Peru, can boast of comparable educational facilities. These
accomplishments— and they have for the most part been
self-made— have rightly become a source of pride to the
Vicosinos and of envy and respect by their neighbors. The
Peruvian government has done much (even though it has
only made a start) to encourage these developments. If
they are continued on a much larger scale in the sierra,
Peru will soon obtain its reward in the form of enlightened
and responsible citizens who will make positive contribu-
tions to the national life.

One further area of development to which our pilot
project gave special attention is that of health. Some indi-
cation has been given (footnote 8, p. 81) of the low
levels of health and nutrition that prevailed in Vicos when
the project began; and the age-old habit of coca chewing
presented special problems.13 At least in the field of health,
substantial changes have taken place. In collaboration
with the United Nations and the Peruvian Ministry of
Health, a twice-weekly clinic was inaugurated at Vicos; it
has raised standards of well-being considerably and has
almost eliminated the most infectious diseases. Contrary to
early expectations, there has been little resistance to the
acceptance of modern medical practices or even to the
purchase of modern drugs. As an outgrowth of this pro-
gram, the Vicosinos, in collaboration with a neighboring
Indian community, Recuayhuanca, have constructed a
"sanitary post" or clinic at which basic medical services are
now available.

13 See, for example, UN Economic and Social Council (12th sess.),
Official Records: Special Supplement i, Report of the Commission of
Enquiry on the Coca Leaf, E/1666 (New York: Author, 1950). In my
opinion the conclusions of this report are not based on the best scientific
evidence. For one thing, preliminary field studies of Vicos indicate that
the social aspects of coca chewing are more important than had been
previously believed. Moreover, the habit is not as vicious as has been
thought. It is likely that, as health and nutritional levels rise, the
chewing of coca will pretty much cease to be a problem.

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 95

The End of the "Hacienda" System at Vicos

Perhaps the most significant development that has
occurred at Vicos since the research program was begun
in i 949 is that, after four hundred years of peonage under
the hacienda system, the Vicosinos have now become the
masters of their own destiny and of their own land. Helped
along the road by an integrated program of change, one
based on the felt needs of the people, the community is
now approaching a level of social maturity at which its
further development would be held back by a continua-
tion of the hacienda system. When this had come to be
clearly recognized by both the community and the govern-
ment, plans were elaborated to enable the Vicosinos to
purchase the lands on which they had lived as serfs ever
since the Spanish conquest. Their new-found stature in
freedom was symbolized by an event of great significance.
In October 1956, democratically, by a direct vote of all
its adult citizens, the people of Vicos elected their own
delegates to assume the direction and management of com-
munity and hacienda affairs. Since that time, the peon
system of obligatory labor has been abolished and the
Vicosinos now pay taxes on their land. At least one com-
munity of the sierra has thus taken a new lease on life.

With the transfer, in October 1957, of the hacienda lease
from the Cornell-Peru project to the community of Vicos,
the leaders of the project withdrew from direct control or
even supervision of its affairs. After centuries of serfdom
the Vicosinos are now masters of their lands and their
affairs. The former leaders of the project are available to
offer advice when it is requested, for its field director,
Mario Vazquez, is continuing his researches into the proc-
esses of change and I have also visited Vicos almost every
summer. Now, as prior to 1951, the project is concerned
with studying the process of social change, not directly
with engineering it.

The results of self-rule and self-reliance have been
strikingly demonstrated at Vicos since 1957. In the first

96 Social Change in Latin America Today

year after "independence," production doubled, with a
substantially smaller labor force. The year 1959 saw a
further rapid improvement. With the increased resources
now available to them, the Vicosinos are taking up many
new projects, this time completely on their own. They are
improving access roads to get their produce to market,
working out better marketing and transportation arrange-
ments and developing a better water supply. They are
better fed, clothed, shod, and housed. It is truly hard to
recognize in the new Vicos the bedraggled and hopeless
village where our project first began its studies in 1949.

This does not mean that all the problems of Vicos have
been solved. Obviously, much remains to be done there
and in other parts of the sierra where poverty and disease,
illiteracy and injustice, are still rife. But the experience of
the Cornell-Peru project clearly indicates that the people
of the sierra, once given proper encouragement, advice,
and respect, can do much by themselves to better their lot.
Certainly the Vicosinos, given the baseline from which
they began, have made great strides toward shaping and
sharing positive human values— freedom, respect, enlight-
enment, and well-being. Given the opportunity, other
peoples of the sierra can do the same.

Peru's policy-makers have, as I reported above, given
their encouragement and support to the Vicos experiment
from its inception in 1951, and they have followed its
progress with keen interest. Now they are working to
multiply its benefits. In the past three years, convinced
that the integrated or multifacet approach to social and
economic development and self-respect offers the most
effective means of arousing the sierra people, with their
excellent human potential, to develop the spirit and the
habits of community self-improvement, the Peruvian gov-
ernment has been engaged in launching five similar pilot
projects in key areas of the country. In this expanding
effort to crack the crust of centuries and release human
energies and hopes, the Indigenous Institute of Peru and

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 97

the Ministries of Education, Health and Agriculture, as
well as United Nations and inter-American agencies, are
playing an active part. Some of the leaders of the new proj-
ects first studied sierra life at Vicos and first learned there
how to work with an Indian community to meet its great
needs. As at Vicos, each project is based, first, on a careful
field study of the community and, second, on the nurtur-
ing of responsibility and initiative within the community
itself, rather than importing some alien and transitory
institutions from without.

A Positive Approach for the Future 14

What generalizations can be drawn from the experience
of Vicos, and what are some of its policy implications?
One basic conclusion is that, contrary to a widely held
opinion in Peru and elsewhere, the indigenous popula-
tions of the sierra have a great potential for development
and for becoming a progressive and dynamic part of the
Peruvian nation. Moreover, the process of modernization
within this long-isolated population can take place without
the loss of certain fundamental and positive values that
are deeply ingrained in Indian society: respect for work,
frugality, cooperation.

Our experience at Vicos indicates that, if granted re-
spect, the Indian will give respect. If allowed to share in
the making of decisions, he will take responsibility and
pride in making and carrying them out. The fundamental
problem of the sierra is largely a problem in human rela-
tions: that of improving social relations between mestizos
and Indians and incorporating both groups into a modern
way of life. This calls for a policy not simply of techno-
logical and economic intervention, as has largely been the
approach in the past, but also of cultural or educational
intervention. Only this approach can open the way to a

14 The writer wishes to acknowledge the collaboration on this section
of Miss Joan Snyder, formerly a research associate of the Cornell-Peru
project.

98 Social Change in Latin America Today

broadening of horizons in both groups and ultimately to
a basic change in the present caste structure and in social
values. An approach to the sierra people along these lines
can lead them into a dynamic and progressive society, more
like that of the coast, and ultimately will foster a more
balanced development of Peru as a nation.

Interdependence of Economic and Social Change

In the past it has been the assumption of technical aid
programs, such as those of the U.S. International Coopera-
tion Administration, that the introduction of technological
changes will by itself bring about a broader outlook on
the part of the people aided, thus helping to incorporate
the community into the larger nation. Experience shows
that this is not always the case. It has become increasingly
apparent that the acceptance of new technology does not
foretell its later use; it does not necessarily promote the
broader development of the community or lead to a change
in values on the part of its members.

More often than not, increased economic benefits are
channeled through traditional value and social systems,
intensifying old imbalances. In the sierra of Peru, this
means, for example, that additional income derived from
economic development may be spent in gaining prestige
through staging more elaborate religious fiestas rather than
be put to productive uses. The offering of technical aid
alone has, in fact, often resulted in arousing the expecta-
tions of more technical help to come and in developing
highly opportunistic attitudes on the part of the recipients.
Certainly this has been the case in many communities of
Peru where the older, paternalistic type of social structure
still prevails.

Although there are evident trends toward a wider shar-
ing of power, as attested by the increasing control of the
government by the middle segments of society, older and
hostile images of national government, derived from the
concentrated holding and misuse of power by the privi-

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 99

leged few, still persist in most mestizo and Indian villages
of Peru. Consequently, many sincere attempts, even on the
part of the present government, to initiate change at
the local level meet with little cooperation or success. At
the same time, most of the underdeveloped communities
of Peru hold what are, by our standards at least, unreal
images of what the government can and should do for
them. Particularly among the mestizos, community ex-
pectations of what a government can and will do for them
in the fields of education and health, economic and social
development, and public services, are far in excess of what
even the most benevolent patron (except perhaps in oil-
rich Venezuela) could possibly provide. Yet there is little
willingness on the part of local communities to assume
responsibilities for reaching these strongly desired goals.

The gap between aspiration and action cannot be ex-
plained by poverty alone. It is due as much to the failure
of the ambition to achieve desired changes, despite much
lip service given to it, to take firm root in community feel-
ing and action. How best to bring this about still consti-
tutes a major question for both research and policy. One
thing is certain. The traditional paternalistic type of social
and political structure must be overcome if the sierra
communities are to be incorporated into the nation, but
this alone will not assure their developing along demo-
cratic lines or for the best interest of the nation.

For the kind of development that calls upon the local
community to help itself, rather than wait passively for
help from above, the absolutely essential conditions, in
addition to programs of technical and economic assistance,
are: an improved standard of living, the effective func-
tioning of the community within the larger environment,
and a program of cultural or educational intervention.
There must also be a deliberate attempt to develop local
leaders who will remain identified with the future of
their own village and who will find their deepest satisfac-
tion in promoting its progress. Otherwise, potential leaders
of the sierra will continue to be siphoned off to the coastal

ioo Social Change in Latin America Today

area, as they become aware of the opportunities for upward
social mobility that exist outside their mountain valleys.

The experience at Vicos shows that much can be done
to strengthen the economic life of the sierra. By introduc-
ing more modern methods and techniques, agricultural
production can probably be doubled or tripled in most of
its regions. So far, except for the state-owned Santa Cor-
poration, little or nothing has been done to develop small
local industries in the sierra, although they could absorb
much of the population that now migrates year by year to
the coast. Just one example. On even the poorer lands
of the sierra it is possible to grow fiber crops for the pro-
duction of rope and bagging; in many areas, in fact, there
are enough fiber plants growing wild to support a small
industrial operation. Yet Peru does not have a single
factory for these products and actually imports them at
high cost from abroad. The sierra holds a similar potential
for the industrial processing of fruit, meat, and dairy
products.

Much good work along this line has been and is being
done outside the sierra by the Institute of Inter-American
Affairs, under its bilateral agreements with the Peruvian
government, as well as by the Pan American Union and
the United Nations and its subsidiaries. Unfortunately,
too little work has been done with the smaller farmers
or the Indians. Most of these efforts have been concentrated
on the large haciendas and on commercial farmers, who
are easier to reach but who constitute only a small part
of the total population.

Development of Local Leadership

In the promotion of social rather than merely economic
change, the problems are more complex but far from
insoluble. Indeed, at a number of key points in sierra
society even a relatively modest amount of progress may
stimulate a self-propelling and dynamic series of further
changes. One of these key points is the development of

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 101

community solidarity and community leadership. In most
rural communities there is a growing body of people who
have had contact with the outside world— particularly the
younger men who have worked in the coastal regions or
done their military service there— and these people are
highly critical of the traditional village authorities.
Through their experience with life outside their narrow
valleys, these young men have taken on many of the values
of a national society, and they cannot find fulfillment for
them within the traditional village hierarchy.

Probably the only means by which this can be done is
to find ways of identifying the prestige of the individual
with his role in improving the welfare of the village as a
whole. To achieve this, several other changes will be re-
quired. At present, neighborhood and kinship ties are far
stronger than any feeling of internal unity within the
Peruvian village. To overcome this, an essential first step is
to promote a sense of loyalty to the community, thus cut-
ting across the lines of neighborhood and kinship groups
and stimulating an awareness that the welfare of the
individual depends in some measure on that of the entire
community. One way to do this is to foster the develop-
ment of local organizations to deal with issues that affect
all families, regardless of local affiliation or status, such
as schools and health care. Another way lies in promoting
recreational and athletic events that attract a wide partici-
pation. Many of these occasions, for example, the staging of
dramas or chorales, can perhaps be linked to the major
religious fiestas, which now draw a large though decreasing
attendance.

To understand its own problems and opportunities,
the sierra village needs to know much more about the
towns and villages of its own area so as to copy useful
changes more rapidly and to develop a spirit of emulation.
The isolated village will then see that its problems are not
unique and will understand better which things it can do
for itself and in which it can reasonably expect aid from
the central government.

102 Social Change in Latin America Today

In order to develop a greater degree of community
solidarity, it is essential to strengthen the role of local
leadership so as to make it representative of the community
as a whole. In the traditional hacienda or Indian com-
munity the range of activities of the village authorities
should be broadened to include all functions which are of
importance to all members of the community. To the
traditional ritual activities, with their stress on age and
the dignity of office, must be added an enlarged responsi-
bility for new activities carried on for the active benefit of
the entire community. To promote cohesion and avoid the
paralysis of dissension, it is important, among people of
the sierra, to build up the prestige of holding office.
Placing new responsibilities on local authorities for a grow-
ing variety of activities will enhance their stature both
in their dealings with the outside world and in their
leadership within the community.

It is also important to broaden the number and func-
tions of positions of leadership in the villages, in order to
provide active roles to a larger proportion of their mem-
bers. This can help the people to see that authority is the
responsibility and the right of all, not the privilege of a
small group representing particular interests. This change
can be used to give active roles of leadership to the large
number of individuals who have had wide experience out-
side their valleys. As the sierra villages enter the path of
modernization, the functions of their leaders are also alter-
ing, and this requires a change in the qualities of expe-
rience and outlook expected of them.

Relations between "Mestizos" and Indians

The barriers to communication between Indians and
mestizos are a major factor isolating the Indian villages
from the influences of the outside world. The dominant
mestizo group, standing between the Indians and the na-
tion, has served to block communication, not to facilitate
it. Even a partial lowering of this barrier would lead to

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 103

an increased involvement and participation by the Indian
communities in the national society. Furthermore, no
effort to develop the well-being of the indigenous villages
and to retain potential leaders within their sierra villages
can work if by staying there they must also remain forever
at the bottom of the social ladder.

One approach to improving intergroup relations stresses
the need for changing the behavior of the minority or de-
pressed group, with the expectation that this will gradually
modify the attitudes of the majority or dominant group.
The assumption made is that present attitudes stem from
the behavior of the minority and that altering this be-
havior will result in removing the prejudices of the ma-
jority group. It can, however, be argued on strong grounds
that the unfavorable attitudes of the dominant group are
often transmitted from one generation to the next without
reference to the actual situation and that the "improve-
ment" of the minority group will not necessarily create a
more favorable attitude toward it. Indeed, the emphasis
placed upon improving the status of the minority may
actually cause the dominant group to feel that its superior
position is being threatened and it may react even more
negatively to evidences of that improvement.

An alternative approach is to tackle the problem of
changing the attitudes of the majority group. The variety
of techniques which have been studied range from formal
programs of education to the creation of situations in
which contact takes place between members of the two
groups either voluntarily or under some degree of compul-
sion. Many of these methods have created more favorable
attitudes toward the minority group. In such an approach,
however, too little attention is paid to effecting changes
within the minority. In the sierra of Peru, for example,
it will be necessary to bring about changes in the behavior
of both mestizos and Indians.

Still a third approach is to create new situations for
which there is no set pattern of behavior, and in which
each person must decide for himself how to act. In making

104 Social Change in Latin America Today

his decision, the individual takes into account a number of
new factors present, apart from his general attitude toward
the minority group. These new factors may include the
appropriateness or inappropriateness of discrimination as
applied in other situations, the need for securing the co-
operation of the other person, the relevance of laws or
strongly held values forbidding discriminatory behavior,
or the presence of other people who would disapprove of
such conduct.

Whatever approach is stressed, it is clear that, as the
process of modernization gets under way, a great improve-
ment can be brought about in relations between mestizos
and Indians in the sierra. This can be hastened, however,
if new situations are arranged so as to bring members of
both groups together in a way that will minimize dis-
criminatory behavior. This is possible in schools, in de-
velopmental projects, in recreational events, and so forth,
provided they are based on real needs of both Indians and
mestizos and therefore elicit the cooperation of both groups
in order to achieve shared ends.

Opening New Channels of Communication

A third broad area, highly significant for the future
development of the sierra, is that of establishing better
channels of communication with the outside world. This
is essential if the Indian villages are to learn to deal effec-
tively with the wider community, to utilize its resources
for their own development, and to develop self-reliance
and local initiative in support of desired changes.

Physical access of the mountain villages to the outside
world is improving rapidly through the construction of
roads and the increasing use of trucks and buses, but the
channels of information are still very circumscribed.
Orders and communications of various sorts are delivered
to the local communities from district and provincial
offices, without producing much effect, and the officials
almost never visit the villages or explain the administra-

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru 105

tion's purposes to the peasants. While the villagers have
frequent contacts with nearby towns for purposes of trade
or fiestas } the effects of this are slight because of the social
distance separating Indians and mestizos. In these con-
tacts, the Indians, being kept in an inferior position, can
seldom learn anything new.

Channels of information can be broadened in a variety
of ways. The improving of communications media in-
volves more than simply teaching people to read and write,
or imparting information through the written word. Many
isolated villagers of the sierra have not learned to look at
photographs in such a way as to grasp their full meaning.
For example, the showing of a public health film at Vicos
revealed that the picture had failed to convey its intended
message, for each scene was understood as a separate inci-
dent. The audience was wholly unable to see any connec-
tion between the film and its own life, and it misunder-
stood any features that were not completely realistic.
When lice were depicted as larger than life, the conclusion
was that they were an entirely different sort of animal. Ex-
cept for religious fiestas, few rural villagers have seen any
variety of drama, and the functioning and purpose of
radios are known only to a few individuals. While radio,
newspapers, and films may play a leading role in the proc-
ess of accelerated modernization— and the establishing of
regional newspapers and radio stations would be a major
step forward— in the early stages only patient face-to-face
explanation and demonstration can provide effective
channels of communication.

While there are many other aspects of community
development that can be tackled in any program of in-
duced social change, giving special attention to the three
key areas— economic life, leadership, and communications
—has the advantage of bringing about other changes. In-
creased economic contacts between the village and the
outside world will lead to a growth of knowledge about
outside markets, more effective techniques, use of avail-
able resources, and opportunities for putting special skills

106 Social Change in Latin America Today

to work. Widening the channels of communication with
the outside will make the rural villagers better aware of
the governmental services that are available to them and
will encourage them to play a more active role in their
dealings with local, provincial, and national governments.
Similar gains can be expected in other areas of sierra life,
in health and nutrition, in recreation and artistic expres-
sion.

The Role of U.S. Policy

In the effort to help the depressed strata of Peru's popu-
lation achieve their new aspirations, the United States has
a key role to play. Economic cooperation between it and
Peru has, to be sure, contributed to awakening the peasant
and Indian populations to the idea of change. But this in
itself is not enough, if Peru is soon to attain political
stability, a broadening democracy, and a balanced develop-
ment of the entire nation. Too much of U.S. economic aid
and technical assistance— and, in my opinion, Peru has
been helped far too little— has been channeled into the
traditional social structure from the top. Too large a share
of it has been directed to the large haciendas and urban
centers of the coast, where the aristocratic tradition and
paternalistic system are still strong, and too little to the
people of the sierra. Because it has been easier to work
with the dominant and educated groups, U.S. and other
outside aid has not had the desired effect, that of enhanc-
ing the capacities of large numbers of the Peruvian people
to produce more wealth and thus to share broadly in the
benefits of economic and cultural development.

Any sound policy of economic aid, as Chester Bowles
has written, in addition to "creating more wealth . . . must
place heavy emphasis on the development among the
workers and peasants of a healthy, cooperative attitude
toward their national governments and their communi-
ties." 15 The counterpart of this is that strong emphasis

15 "A New Approach to Foreign Aid," Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists,
February 1957, p. 45.

Changing Attitudes and Values in Peru

107

must also be placed on developing among policy-makers
healthy and cooperative attitudes toward the workers and
peasants. For Peru, this means that these large groups
must be allowed and encouraged to take increasing respon-
sibility for the direction of their own affairs and to enjoy
the benefits of modern development.

Any sound program of economic aid, as Bowles goes on
to point out, "requires steady progress toward three essen-
tial objectives without which political stability . . . will
almost certainly fail to develop: (1) a recognizable increase
in economic output; (2) a sense of widespread personal
participation in the creation of this increase; (3) a public
conviction that the fruits of the increase are being fairly
shared, with injustices steadily lessening." 16

Toward the first of these objectives, Peru has recently
made great strides. To reach the other two, it still has a
long way to go. These are the neglected areas of develop-
ment to which policy-makers must direct more attention.
A broad program of exchange of ideas and of education is
needed to aid in filling the gap. Such a program can help
the people of Peru, and many other countries— for Peru
merely provides a case study in the potentialities for social
development— to achieve a wider sharing of power and
wealth, of enlightenment and social respect. At the same
time, a program of this integrated type, supplementing the
now traditional contributions to economic development,
can do more than any other to promote genuine under-
standing and enduring friendship between the two peoples.

16 Same.

Three

BOLIVIA: U.S. ASSISTANCE IN A
REVOLUTIONARY SETTING

by Richard W. Patch

Latin America has seen many kinds of political change
that go by the name of "revolution," from trading offices
between "outs" and "ins" to profound upheavals which
remake permanently the political, economic, and social
structure. Most "revolutions" are usurpations of power,
conducted according to a well-understood and carefully
observed set of rules. Often they have little popular sup-
port or opposition, are precipitated by a shift in the
allegiance of key groups in the armed forces, and have little
effect on the structure of the government or the condition
of the governed.

Occasionally a revolution, in the sense of a sudden and
radical change, does take place. For many years Mexico
was unique in Latin America; it alone had undergone a
revolution which struck at the roots of the previous order.
The change that occurred after 1911 was in many ways
more fundamental than that brought about by the wars
for Mexico's independence from Spain. Then in 1952
Mexico was joined by Bolivia— the first South American
republic with a large Indian population to undergo the
upheaval of a revolution from which there was no return.
The revolt was directed not only against a previous govern-
ment but against the institutions that had made that gov-
ernment possible and even inevitable.

108

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 109

The revolution was a political success. The tin mines
were nationalized, and the large estates were divided
among the peasants who cultivated them. The Indians
threw off their depressed status, and the entire class of
wealthy landowners disappeared as a social power. The
suddenness of the reforms, coupled with a sharp drop in
tin prices, and a devastating drought, brought economic
disaster.

The United States recognized the new government and
expanded substantially a modest program of assistance
designed to help Bolivia achieve a measure of stability.
But neither government nor economy achieved that goal,
and U.S. assistance to Bolivia grew until it has now become
the largest program of its kind in Latin America.

What is the present situation of Bolivia and how has it
come about? And what are the purposes and the effects of
the U.S. assistance programs? Only a careful, if brief, re-
view of what the Bolivian government and the U.S. aid
programs have done, have not done, and could not have
done, can provide the basis for a realistic appraisal of U.S.
policy in a revolutionary setting.

Divergent Approaches to the Bolivian Revolution

Until recently Bolivia was an almost unknown country,
isolated in the center of a continent which has com-
manded less attention in the United States than its relative
proximity and economic importance would lead us to
expect. Yet from 1953 through 1959 economic aid and
technical assistance to Bolivia by the United States
amounted to $124 million. This total is exclusive of Ex-
port-Import Bank loans of $11 million disbursed during
this period, authorized credits of $4 million from the
Development Loan Fund, and a $15 million stabilization
loan from the International Monetary Fund and the U.S.
Treasury. It also does not include assistance from the
United Nations, which has one of its largest missions in
Bolivia.

no Social Change in Latin America Today

The increase in U.S. aid to Bolivia— from $1.5 million
in 1953 to $22.7 million in 1959, exclusive of loans-
provides a rough yardstick for measuring the growing
interest of the United States in Bolivia's future. This
interest also is apparent in a growing volume of comment,
some hostile to the new leadership, but most of it sympa-
thetic.

The difficulty is that North Americans have known little
of the deep-seated problems and wrenching social changes
that are at the root of Bolivia's grave economic distress.
Without a knowledge of the country's basic conditions it
is impossible to estimate the wisdom of the aid program.
U.S. policy must be appraised in the light of a new Boliv-
ian nationalism, the Indians' struggle for emancipation,
and other forces which very largely make the government
a creature of the governed.

One major strand of these new processes can be ex-
amined only in the countryside, where the peasants have
become a power to reckon with, and where agrarian re-
form has become the symbol and tool of social reform. The
agencies to which we would normally turn for information
do not have the experience or personnel necessary for
gathering firsthand material on the village population,
which is both different from and antagonistic to the city
dwellers who alone meet and inform most foreign visitors,

A comprehensive United Nations report on Bolivia
foreshadowed the revolutionary changes that have occurred
since 1952.1 Among analyses made by trained observers
since the revolution of 1952, the most interesting is a brief
study by Carter Goodrich, professor of economics at
Columbia University, who headed the United Nations
mission before and after the overturn.2 Going beyond its

1 UN Technical Assistance Administration, Report of the United
Nations Missions of Technical Assistance to Bolivia, ST/TAA/K/Bolivia/i
(New York: Author, 1951), the report of the "Keenleyside Mission." Also,
UN Economic Commission for Latin America, Development of Agricul-
ture in Bolivia, E/CN.i2/2i8/Add. 2 (New York: Author, 1951).

2 Carter Goodrich, The Economic Transformation of Bolivia, Bulletin
34 (Ithaca: New York State School of Industrial and Labor Relations, 1955).

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance hi

title, his booklet throws much light on the social as well
as economic transformation of the country. Because of
the nature of Dr. Goodrich's work in Bolivia, his study is
chiefly concerned with the population of the western
plateau (the altiplano) and with the mines and tin miners.

Alberto Ostria Gutierrez, a former foreign minister of
Bolivia now in exile in Chile, has written a dramatic and
reasonably sober indictment of the present government of
Bolivia and its policies.3 Written with an emphasis upon
the injustices suffered by the Spanish-speaking middle and
upper classes, it leaves out of consideration, as do many
books by Bolivians, the positive benefits which the govern-
ment's reforms have brought the Indians.

Lilo Linke, a German journalist, has written an in-
formal history of the revolutionary changes which have
taken place since the Movimiento Nacionalista Revolu-
cionario (MNR) came to power.4 It gives a number of
interesting sketches of the personalities of the government.
But if Ostria can see no good in the MNR party and
government, Linke can see no evil. Her book is often an
uncritical eulogy of Victor Paz Estenssoro, re-elected presi-
dent in June i960 for a new four-year term.

My own approach to the study of Bolivia has been
through the methods of anthropology. When an anthro-
pologist undertakes to interpret a total national culture,
he encounters certain limitations, chiefly imposed by his
usual preoccupation with preliterate or "primitive" groups
who remain largely below the horizon of the national state.
When he studies Bolivia, however, this avenue of approach
offers certain advantages because the preliterate popula-
tion, comprising some 60 per cent of the nation, is the
principal object of the government's reforms and, in
addition, it now wields much of the power which has been
taken from the army and police.

The Indian populations of Bolivia have been studied

3 Un pueblo en la cruz (Santiago de Chile: Editorial del Pacifico, 1956).

4 Viaje por una revolucidn (Quito: Editorial Casa de la Cultura Ecua-
toriana, 1956).

112 Social Change in Latin America Today

by several anthropologists, notably Allan R. Holmberg,
Weston La Barre, and the late Harry Tschopik. In addi-
tion to benefiting from these studies which were carried
out before the revolution of 1952, 1 have been able to study
the Spanish-speaking and Indian peoples of Bolivia in
three periods— in 1954-1955, in 1956, when the full impact
of the changed status of the Indian was making itself felt,
and again in 1958-1959. My studies were concentrated in
the major area of the Indian upheaval, the Cochabamba
valleys, but I have also made less intensive studies of the
Aymaras of the altiplano, the transitional population of
the eastern boundary of the Andes around Comarapa and
Valle Grande, and the people of the eastern lowlands of
Santa Cruz and the Beni.5

Land and People

Compared with other Latin American republics, Bolivia
is a large country, with a total area of 412,800 square miles,
roughly equal to that of Spain and France combined. Its
situation as the only American republic without access to
the sea has contributed greatly to a sense of isolation frorn^
the outside world. The Direccion General de Estadistica
estimates that Bolivia had a population of 3,161,503 in
1954. According to the criteria employed by the census
bureau, in 1950 it had 1,703,371 "Indians." With Indians
making up some 54 per cent of the total, Bolivia has by far
the largest proportion of Indian population of any country
in Latin America.

The distinction between "Indian" and "white" (or
bianco) is crucial to an understanding of Andean social
life. Both the Spanish-speaking blancos and many of the
Quechua- and Aymara-speakihg Indians believe that the
terms denote a real difference in race as well as an im-
portant difference in the cultures of the two groups. In
fact, however, in the four hundred years since the Spanish

5 My studies were made possible by grants from the Institute of
Current World Affairs and the Grace and Henry L. Doherty Foundation.

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance

conquest the two originally distinct races have so far in-
termingled that the racial difference has largely disap-
peared except in the most isolated Indian villages and in
the largest cities, where many of the blancos are recent im-
migrants. Nevertheless, the fiction of the racial apartness
and inferiority of the Indians has strengthened and pre-
served their very real distinctiveness of culture. Most
writers, recognizing the inappropriateness of the word
"whites," have adopted the substitute term "mestizos,"
which, in fact, is sparingly used by "whites" and "Indians"
of the Andes.

Thirty-eight per cent of "Indians" speak only Aymara.
They are concentrated on the large altiplano, the level
plateau of western Bolivia, which extends for hundreds of
miles at an elevation of slightly over 12,000 feet. The
Aymaras, living mainly in the heavily overpopulated areas
near Lake Titicaca and also in the valleys of the Yungas,
are surrounded by Quechua-speaking peoples, both to the
west, where the Peruvian Indians also speak Quechua, and
to the east, where the invading Quechua-speaking Incas
settled in the richer agricultural valleys beyond the alti-
plano. Fifty-four per cent of the Indians speak only Que-
[chua. Both Quechua and to a lesser extent the Aymara
language are divided among numerous dialects, which limit
the Indians' ability to communicate effectively with other
Indians outside their immediate localities. And while Que-
chua and Aymara have many points of similarity in vocab-
ulary and syntax, they are separate languages, mutully un-
intelligible. A few other independent languages, such as
Uru are spoken by a very few individuals, most of whom
also speak Quechua or Aymara. The diversity of languages
and dialects creates a serious problem of communication
within the population Of Bolivia, for few of the Indians
speak Spanish as a second language. The 6 per cent of "In-
dians" who also speak some Spanish are found in predomi-
nantly mestizo areas near the cities of La Paz, Cochabamba,
Potosi, and Sucre.

The majority of the total population, and practically all

ii4 Social Change in Latin America Today

the Indians, live in the highlands. East of the plateau and
the mountains and valleys lies the subtropical lowland,
which makes up fully three-fifths of the national territory.
The eastern lowlands shade gradually from the arid pampa
of the southeast through the subtropical savanna and forest
of Santa Cruz to the jungle and flood plains of the Beni
and Pando in the northeast. Much of this lowland has a
rich potential for agriculture and grazing, but is little ex-
ploited by the few Spanish-speaking inhabitants and the
sparse and nomadic forest tribes, estimated at only 2 per
cent of the total Indian population.

The region of the Yungas, which encompasses the pre-
cipitous valleys of northwestern Bolivia, is also sparsely
populated. As the valleys of the Yungas fall off abruptly to
the lower altitudes of the eastern slopes of the Cordillera
Real, moisture-laden clouds moving west from the Amazon
basin deposit a heavy rainfall in the subtropical gorges.
In addition to coffee and bananas, the main product of the
Yungas is the coca leaf, from which cocaine is derived; the
coca leaf has been chewed by the Indians of the Andes
since before the time of the Incas.

From the Chaco War to Social Revolution

During the colonial period and under the republic,
Bolivia's economy has had a dual character. One part,
oriented to the world market, has been concerned with
exploiting resources which were not only exported but
largely processed beyond its borders. The rest of the econ-
omy, mainly agricultural and centered around local mar-
kets, was traditionally organized in small subsistence farms
or large estates— latifundia— whose produce flowed to local
markets little affected by world prices. Land-tenure pat-
terns, modeled after Spanish manorial customs, served to
immobilize the agricultural workers in an unchanging way
of life. The religious structure likewise placed a high value
on acceptance of the traditional patterns and emphasized
the rewards of a future rather than a present life. The

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 115

social stratification of the society into caste-like categories
fixed the tenure patterns and the economic and social be-
havior of different classes in a rigid system, in a traditional
equilibrium which remained basically undisturbed down
to the impact of the Chaco war which was waged against
Paraguay from 1932 to 1935.

From this war the Bolivian government hoped to win a
quick victory and to re-establish its prestige shaken by its
previous losses of territory to Chile and Brazil. Bolivia's
defeat was due largely to a weak government and an in-
competent military leader, whose strategy proved disas-
| trous in the unfamiliar terrain of the Chaco. Paraguay had
the advantages of an able government, a shrewd military
leader, and short supply lines into an area with which the
Paraguayan soldiers were thoroughly familiar. Bolivia con-
tinued the fight with increasing desperation until, with
both countries exhausted, the war was ended by a truce in
1935. Some 60,000 Bolivian and some 40,000 Paraguayan
soldiers had lost their lives in the struggle.

During the war all classes of Bolivians volunteered or
were conscripted into the army. For many of the Bolivians
who called themselves "whites" or gente decente, it was an
unparalleled experience to serve in an army with "In-
dians." The white and mestizo officers suddenly found
themselves dependent upon the infantry of the once de-
spised indios. For the Indians it was an equally strange
experience to see unfamiliar areas of their country, to
conceive of Bolivia as a nation, and to become the object
of propaganda designed to persuade them that they were
citizens of a single nation, no longer Indians, a people
apart, but gente, or "persons," in the same sense as the
"whites."

Bolivia was defeated, but it was neither the loss of lives
nor the war itself which finally upset the country's social
and economic equilibrium. It was rather the rise of a
liberal image of the prospective role of the Indian within
the nation, and a new sense of participation, real or frus-
trated, by the Indian population in the national life. In

1 1 6 Social Change in Latin America Today

Bolivia, as elsewhere in Latin America, the universities
often provide the wellsprings of new political movements,
and in the early 1930's a new political ferment was intro-
duced by the rise in the Bolivian universities of a group
imbued with Socialist and Marxist ideologies. At that time,
a related movement, called "liberal" in Bolivia, was be-
coming fiercely nationalistic and anti-imperialist.

The long-maintained equilibrium, which had depended
on preserving the role of the Indians as serfs in a feudal-
istic society, had been disturbed. To pacify the new unrest,
liberal governments enacted new laws from time to time,
thereby encouraging the Indian to seek a new status for
himself, only to be forgotten by later, tradition-dominated
governments as they attempted to restore the old regime.
With each swing of the political pendulum the disequi-
librium became steadily more pronounced, until the revo-
lution of 1952 crushed the mainstays of the traditional
society.

A new political party, the Movimiento Nacionalista
Revolucionario had been formed in 1940 by a group of
intellectuals headed by Victor Paz Estenssoro, at one time
a professor of economics in the University of San Andres
at La Paz. The MNR favored the nationalization of the
tin mines and called itself "anti-imperialist." At first
it represented an uneasy alliance between upper-class
"liberal intellectuals," products of the universities, and
the right-wing Vanguardia, composed of young army offi-
cers dissatisfied with their seniors' conduct of the Chaco
war.6 As the new party gained influence, it absorbed the
political activities of the tin miners and the remnants of
a much divided Marxist party, the "Party of the Revolu-
tionary Left."

After having declared war on the Axis powers in Decem-
ber 1943, the government of Enrique Penaranda was over-
thrown almost immediately in a coup organized by a secret
lodge of army officers who then installed Major Gualberto

6 The Vanguardia should not be confused with the Vanguardia
Obrera Movimientista, a group of the left.

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 117

Villarroel as president. Villarroel took several leaders of
the MNR into his cabinet and repressed both the tradi-
tional and the Marxist parties; Paz Estenssoro became
Villarroel's minister of finance. When the U.S. govern-
ment denounced the coup as having been instigated and
financed by Nazis and by Argentine nationals, its example
in refusing to recognize Villarroel's government was fol-
lowed by all Latin American republics except Argentina.
Unable to withstand the pressure of continued isolation,
the Villarroel government dropped the MNR members
from the cabinet, and six months later it was recognized by
the United States and other American republics. In July
1 946, after the defeat of the Axis, discontent with the gov-
ernment exploded in La Paz. After several days of armed
conflict in the capital, the presidential palace was stormed
and Villarroel was hanged from a lamp post^Paz Estens-
soro went. into exile in Argentina, where he remained un-
tinfe returned as president in April 1952. Throughout his
exile Paz Estenssoro remained the symbol of the aspira-
tions of the MNR and "The Revolution." In the mean-
time Bolivia was governed by a succession of weak cabinets
of the right.

In the elections which were scheduled by the cabinet
of Mamerto Urriolagoitia for May 1951, the government
was expected to control the outcome by legal means, since
the franchise was restricted to literate males, largely urban
dwellers, who, it was thought, would split their votes
among several competing candidates. Under the constitu-
tion, if no candidate received an absolute majority, the
Congress could choose the president from among the three
candidates receiving the most votes. Since the Congress
was dominated by the government party, it would, it was
assumed, proceed to choose the government's candidate,
Gabriel Gosalvez.

The government party was more surprised than anyone
when the voters gave Victor Paz Estenssoro 45 per cent of
the 120,000 ballots cast, and the MNR also elected six out
of nine senators and ten out of fifty-five deputies. How-

n8 Social Change in Latin America Today

ever, in spite of the MNR's impressive showing in a
restricted electorate which was not generally regarded as
favorable to it, Paz Estenssoro had not received an absolute
majority. Although he had a five-to-three plurality over
Gosalvez, there was no assurance that the Congress would
not choose the government's own candidate as president.

Then, suddenly, on May 16 Urriolagoitia resigned,
handed over the reins of government to a military junta,
and fled to Chile. The reason given by the junta for the
coup was the necessity of keeping the MNR from power.
The MNR, they proclaimed, was "an unholy alliance" of
Nazi, Fascist and Communist elements which would estab-
lish a dictatorial type of government, nationalize the mines
and industry, and institute a campaign of terror such as
had prevailed in 1943-1946.7 The junta lacked both posi-
tive leadership and popular support. It accomplished little,
and its unity steadily deteriorated until in April 1952 a
member of the junta, General Seleme, defected to the
MNR.

From April 8 to April 1 1 a struggle was joined in La Paz
to determine what forces would control the government
and the country. In it, according to some estimates, as
many as 3,000 persons were killed. Irregular forces led
by Vice-President-elect Hernan Siles and labor leader Juan
Lechin, both partisans of the MNR, finally overcame the
opposition. The provisional government which Siles set
up was turned over to Paz Estenssoro as soon as he re-
turned to La Paz from Argentina.

Juan Lechin, recognized leader of the tin miners and
guiding spirit of the Trotskyite Revolutionary Workers
party (POR), became a nominal member of the MNR and
was made minister of mines and petroleum. One of the
government's first acts was to nationalize the tin mines,
taking over the three large corporations belonging to the
Patino, Hochschild, and Aramayo interests.

Despite the present pride of the government in its

7 The New York Times, May 17, 1951.

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 119

agrarian reform decree of August 2, 1953, there was at first
little talk and less action about agrarian reform in the
period following the success of the revolution of 1952.
President Paz Estenssoro and Vice-President Siles were
essentially moderates. If agrarian reform was a part of their
political ideology, they apparently conceived of it as a
gradual turning over of inefficiently cultivated latifundia
to landless Indians. However, the Indians or campesinos
(farmers), as they now came to be called, finding them-
selves for the first time in a position of power, embarked
on a program of total land redistribution from below. It
was their demands and their power which soon forced the
government to recognize the serious nature of the problem
and to appoint an Agrarian Reform Council. One reason
why the MNR avoided making any pronouncement on
agrarian reform as long as it could was that its rightist
Vanguardia wing, which formed the main strength of the
party until it broke away in 1956, was opposed to land
reform.

In the later months of 1952 the situation in rural areas
had become unmanageable. The specter of a civil war of
extermination between campesinos and "whites" rose to
haunt the new government. A sweeping program of
agrarian reform was now indispensable, both to put some
order into the land redistribution which the campesinos
were carrying out by direct action, and to prove by a con-
vincing gesture that the MNR was indeed the friend of
the campesinos, as it had so often proclaimed.

The Indians and Agrarian Revolt

The most striking and unexpected consequence of the
revolution of 1952 was the rapid and organized emergence
of the "Indian" campesinos as a decisive force on the na-
tional scene. The policy-makers, city-dwellers to a man,
still thought of the campesinos as unorganized, leaderless,
and susceptible to coercion. But this was no longer every-
where the case.

120 Social Change in Latin America Today

In the large interior valley of Cochabamba, located in
west central Bolivia, with the highest ratio of Indian
population to arable land, the campesinos had long been
in close contact with the town-dwelling mestizos. They had
become familiar with the norms of mestizo culture. As
early as 1936, almost immediately after the close of the
Chaco war, campesinos of one province, Cliza, in the de-
partment of Cochabamba, had established an agrarian
"syndicate" (sindicato) with the aim of freeing themselves
from the feudal obligations of service to the latifundium
owners and advancing their status toward that of the
mestizo. The first step was to arrange to lease their holdings
from the landlords, thus escaping from the traditional
obligations of rendering unpaid services to the patron.

Very soon the campesino syndicate suffered a setback
which, however, in the long run only served to weld its
members more closely into a purposeful and determined
group. A number of large landowners of the area banded
together to destroy the nascent syndicate and remove this
direct threat to the customary pattern of landlord rule.
As a first step, in 1939 five landlords purchased those
latifundia which the syndicate members had succeeded
in renting from the previous owners, took back the lands
from the campesinos, and cleared large areas by destroying
the houses of the campesinos. They then proceeded to
"rationalize" the cultivation of the latifundia, retaining
the services of those campesinos who were willing to be-
come pegujaleros (a type of share-cropper serf whose
obligations differed in minor ways from the older type
of colonos). Those campesinos who refused to submit were
driven from the lands which they and their families had
occupied in usufruct all their lives, and often from father
to son. This attack upon the syndicate members did more
than any other one act to unify the Indian population and
awaken it to political life. Treatment which had hitherto
been endured as acts against individual peasants was now
recognized for what it was, a concentrated attack by land-
owners upon the whole group of campesinos.

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 121

After this first defeat, the syndicate, now centered in the
campesino community of Ucurena in the province of Cliza,
turned from the direct attempt to secure the land for the
peasants to a program of school-building and other im-
provements designed to organize and prepare the campe-
sinos for what they now saw as an inevitable struggle with
the landowners. Suppressed for several years, the syndicate
re-emergecUin 1947 when a PIR (Party of the Revolu-
tionary Left) member was elected deputy for the province
of Cliza, and a young man, Jose Rojas, took over the leader-
ship of the syndicate. A native of Ucurena, who had been
driven from the latifundium on which his father had been
a colono, Rojas escaped to Argentina, only to return
secretly to Ucurena later in the 1940's. There he worked
as a laborer while he assisted in organizing the campesinos.
Rojas affected to speak no Spanish but was an eloquent
orator in Quechua. Deeply impressed by the platform of
the Marxist PIR, he soon became a forceful and deter-
mined leader of the campesinos.

In 1949 members of the MNR began a new campaign in
the rural areas, attempting to identify themselves with the
campesinos and to enlist their support against the vested-
power groups. They assumed correctly that, if they could
win broad support among the campesinos, no government
could resist their right to rule. During those years Jose
Rojas held the syndicate of Ucurena at arm's length from
the MNR, possibly because of the gap between his own
PIR leanings and the MNR's more moderate objectives.
The syndicate, as it happened, took no part in the revolu-
tion of April 9, 1952.

After the MNR had assumed power in La Paz, the syndi-
cate of Ucurena emerged, after a short interval, as the
organized spokesman of the campesinos. At first its in-
fluence was challenged by the new regime. The regional
command of the MNR in Cochabamba attempted to place
another campesino leader, Simon Aguilar, at the head of a
"Syndicate of the Valley." Aguilar belonged to another
campesino community, closer than Ucurena to the city of

122 Social Change in Latin America Today

Cochabamba, and was more sympathetic than Rojas to
the MNR. The issue came to a head at the first meeting of
the new syndicate, which was to unite all the campesinos
of the Cochabamba valley. At the meeting, held in the
provincial capital, Cliza, the delegates had to decide where
the headquarters of the syndicate should be located. By a
narrow margin they voted to remove it to Ucurefia, and
Jose Rojas thereby became the undisputed leader of the
valley's hundreds of thousands of campesinos. In turn
Rojas became resigned, at least outwardly, to cooperating
with the MNR.

The early meetings of the Sindicato Campesino de
Ucurefia del Valle organized task forces of campesinos and
young MNR students from Cochabamba, dispatching them
to the farthest reaches of Bolivia. Often these teams of
organizers were the first to bring news of the revolution to
Indian villages of remote valleys and lofty plateaus. The
syndicate groups showed the campesinos how to organize
new syndicates of their own. Most of these later syndicates
remain personally loyal today to Rojas, for they believe
that he and no one else was responsible for their being
established in the first place. As the wild fire of revolt and
hope raced through the villages, the entire campesino
movement was completely outside the control of the na-
tional government or the MNR party leaders. The only
center it recognized was Ucurefia.

In the early months after the revolution the national
government in La Paz paid little attention to the rising
tide of peasant unrest. It announced that the innocuous
reforms decreed ten years before by the Villarroel govern-
ment, which had placed certain restrictions on the ex-
ploitation of pegujaleros by latifundium owners, were
again to be put into effect. The landowners were not much
concerned over this mild gesture, and for a time the
traditional landlord-peasant pattern seemed likely to re-
main unchanged by this as by so many previous revolts.

Then, on November 9, 1952, the syndicate of Ucurefia
demanded the return of eleven parcels of land to peguja-

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 123

leros who had been driven from one of the latifundia a
few years before. The landowner refused. Thereupon the
syndicate called for a general uprising of the campesinos
in the provinces of Cliza, Punata, and Tarata. It threatened
to pillage the town of Cliza and burn the houses of the
nearby landowners. This threat of direct action, reported
to Cochabamba, the departmental capital, found the gov-
ernor and his officials, with their limited forces, under-
standably reluctant to interfere. Only prompt action by
the sub-prefect of Cliza finally succeeded in pacifying the
campesinos and in preventing a general assault upon the
latifundia and the smaller towns. The campesinos had
now come to realize their strength, and acts of violence
became more and more frequent.

The uprising of the campesinos could not but arouse
the national government to the necessity for drastic action.
If far-reaching concessions could no longer control but
only channel the emergence of the campesinos, they would
at least demonstrate that the sympathies of the government
were on the side of the now irresistible movement. For-
tunately, the campesinos also had a direct channel to the
national leaders of the MNR in La Paz. The minister of
campesino affairs, Nuflo Chavez, was acutely aware of the
government's dependence on the good will of the village
population, and was in close contact with Jose Rojas and
other campesino leaders. Nuflo Chavez became an early
and insistent advocate of an extreme type of agrarian re-
form. His concept, if carried out, would have divided all
the land in areas of predominantly Indian population into
minifundios (small parcels). A reform of this type would
have converted the country's entire system of agriculture
to subsistence farming, leaving little or no marketable sur-
plus to feed the cities. Had the campesinos been left to
their own devices this would assuredly have been the final
upshot.

As it was, the syndicates rapidly took over the most
accessible latifundia or haciendas, divided up the land
among their members, and expropriated the vehicles,

124 Social Change in Latin America Today

machinery, and houses of the former patrones. For ex-
ample, at Ucurefla the casa hacienda, or manor house, of
one patron was seized by the syndicate, which renamed
it the "General Barracks" or village headquarters of
Ucurena. Other houses were converted to serve as hospitals,
schools or syndicate headquarters. By this time those land-
owners who had so far remained in the rural areas finally
realized the full sweep of the revolution and fled for safety
to the cities, especially to Cochabamba and La Paz. Since
then most of them have not been able so much as to go
near their former haciendas. Large areas of Bolivia have
remained inaccessible for this class of blancos, often called
"la rosea/' a bitter term applied to persons popularly be-
lieved to have used their wealth and power to exploit the
Indians.

The Government and Agrarian Reform

The campesino uprising with its demand for agrarian
reform posed several difficult questions to the MNR. As
a political party, the MNR had risen to power as a con-
geries of groups each of which had its own purposes, and
their amalgamation was not accompanied oy a genuine
unity of views or goals. The original inspirers of the MNR,
leaders such as Victor Paz Estenssoro and Walter Guevara
Arze, minister of foreign affairs until February 1956, were
supporters of moderate, evolutionary "socialism." As such,
they attempted to keep the use of force to a minimum.
Hernan Siles, then vice-president and president of the
republic from 1956 to i960, also belonged to the moderates.

In the 1940's the moderate intellectuals had been joined
by a group which called itself the Vanguardia of the MNR.
The Vanguardia in turn was, in its origins, close to the
RAD EPA, an organization of younger army officers, vet-
erans of the Chaco war, who had turned against the higher
officers, holding them responsible for Bolivia's defeat.8

8 RADEPA stands for Razon de Patria.

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 125

However vague the political platform of the Vanguardia,
its leaders were more conservative in social outlook than
the Paz Estenssoro group, and also more willing to resort
to force.

The universities had been another source of recruits
and ideas for the MNR. While some professors and
students were close to the moderate views of the MNR,
many other students, no longer attracted to the older
MNR intellectuals, had formed their own groups. The
Avanzadas Universitarias (Avant-Garde University Stu-
dents), as they were called, were young enough to be
strongly influenced by the Marxist thinking that had
flourished at the universities in the 1930's and io^'s.
These groups were far to the left of the rightist Vanguardia
wing of the MNR, whose adherents were barely lukewarm
toward agrarian reform. Other influential leaders within
the MNR took strong positions for or against the peasants'
demands. Among them, the very influential Juan Lechin
was an advocate of extreme land reform.

As the pressure of the campesinos and their syndicates
was rising explosively, President Paz Estenssoro decided
to put the government and the MNR at the head of the
movement. On January 20, 1953, he proclaimed Supreme
Decree No. 3301, creating an agrarian reform commission
to study the " agrarian-camp esino problem" and suggest
the best ways in which the reform could be carried out.
The commission, headed by Vice-President Siles, was
given 120 days in which to prepare a report and draft a
decree dealing with all interrelated aspects of the reform.
These included property and tenure patterns of agri-
cultural and grazing lands; "an adequate redistribution
of this land, in order to raise the standard of living of the
campesinos, intensify agricultural and livestock produc-
tion, and develop the national economy"; procedures for
liquidating the latifundia and suppressing "semifeudal"
exploitive practices in rural areas; the effect of these re-
forms on agricultural production, work patterns, and the
payment and protection of the campesinos; campesino

126 Social Change in Latin America Today

housing; technical assistance and credit for agricultural
producers; conservation of natural resources. While Paz
Estenssoro assigned responsibility for carrying out the
decree jointly to the ministers of campesino affairs, agri-
culture, and finance, the primary responsibility, signifi-
cantly enough, was assigned to the minister of campesino
affairs, Nuflo Chavez, an intimate of the Indian leader,
Jose Rojas, rather than to the minister of agriculture,
German Vera Tapia, one of the stronger leaders of the
MNR's Vanguardia wing.

Within the stipulated period of four months the com-
mission completed a series of reports and prepared a draft
decree which Paz Estenssoro enacted into law by Supreme
Decree No. 3464. On August 2, 1953, the decree was signed
with much pomp and ceremony by the president and the
entire cabinet before a huge convocation of campesinos
held in the village of Ucurena. Eduardo Arze Loureiro,
who had aided in establishing the syndicate of Ucurena
in the difficult years of the logo's and 1940's, was named
president of the Agrarian Reform Council.

The decree represented a compromise between two
conflicting forces: the partisans of preserving productive
and efficient agricultural units, whatever their size, and the
advocates of distributing the maximum amount of land to
the largest possible number of campesinos, regardless of
the effect on production. On balance, the compromise
favored the former. In addition, the decree recognized the
overwhelming desire of the campesinos for individual
private ownership, and had little to say of communal pro-
duction cooperatives patterned after the Mexican ejidos.
The decree, covering some thirty pages, may be summar-
ized briefly:

The Nation maintains the original right of the Nation over
the soil, the subsoil and the waters of the territory of the Re-
public. The State recognizes and guarantees agrarian private
property when it fulfills a useful function for society. The State
recognizes only the following forms of agrarian private prop-
erty: the peasant homesite, the small holding operated by the

Bolivia, and U.S. Assistance

127

farmer and his family for subsistence purposes, the medium-
sized holding operated with the help of hired labor or with
agricultural machinery for the purpose of marketing most of
the produce, the Indian communities, the agrarian cooperative
holding, and finally, the agricultural enterprise.

Specifically the State does not recognize the legality of the
latifundium— the rural property of large size which may vary
according to its geographical location, that remains idle or is
exploited inefficiently by the extensive system (low capital in-
puts relative to other factors), with obsolete tools and with
practices which serve to perpetuate the serfdom and submis-
sion of the peasant. The semifeudal estates are subject to ex-
propriation in their entirety.9

The newly outlawed latifundium is distinguished in the
decree from the approved agricultural enterprise. The
latter is defined as an intensive farm, operated with large
capital investments per unit of land, producing for the
market, with labor paid in cash wages and enjoying the
right to organize and participate in collective bargaining,
regardless of the amount of land held by the enterprise.

The decree fixes the maximum sizes of holdings, which
vary according to whether the holdings are on the alti-
plano, on the puna (high areas mainly used for grazing), in
the interior valleys, or in the eastern subtropical region; in
fixing them, only the cultivable area is taken into account.
The size of maximum holdings for different regions, based
on studies and reports by agronomists and land-use special-
ists, was defined as the area necessary to satisfy the needs of
a rural family. The decree established the rights of the
Indian communities to recover lands which had been
usurped from them. From the date of the decree, com-
munities which claimed restitution rights could occupy
the land on which they had claims. This article, in prac-
tice, recognized the de facto occupations of land which had
already been carried out by the campesinos.

9"Texto del Decreto Ley No. 3464 que dispone la reforma agraria
en Bolivia," Revista Juridica (Universidad de Cochabamba), nos. 63-66,
i953» PP- 460-462.

128 Social Change in Latin America Today

All Bolivian citizens, 18 years of age or over, of both sexes,
who intend to work on the land will receive grants wherever
there may be available lands, on condition that they cultivate
it within a period of two years. Peasants who have been sub-
ject to a feudal regime of work and exploitation are declared
the owners of the land they now occupy or work until the
National Agrarian Reform Service has granted them the lands
to which they have rights in accordance with the definition of
a small holding. The preferential right of one individual to
receive a land grant in a given area rests upon his permanent
residence in the area and upon his being a farmer.

In those areas where there is enough land the grants per
family will be made by allocating one unit [the "small hold-
ing" as denned for the particular region] to each family. If the
lands [available] do not suffice to grant a unit to each family,
the size of the grant will be reduced in the proportion neces-
sary to accommodate all those who legally have preferential
rights to the land. The peasants insufficiently provided for
reserve their rights to receive new grants in other regions
where there are available lands.10

It was these provisions of the decree that opened the
way for multiplying the small subsistence plots or mini-
fundios. As the framers of the decree foresaw clearly, in
those densely populated areas which stood in greatest need
of land redistribution, there was simply not enough land
to give each family an allotment even approaching the
prescribed "small holding." By reducing the defined mini-
mum holding in order to satisfy all campesinos legally en-
titled to receive land, the decree made a gesture toward
appeasing the greatest possible number of campesinos.
But it thereby made the sub-subsistence minifundio the
dominant pattern in the more densely populated regions.
Agricultural production and marketing have not recovered
from this drastic change. That is the root of many of
Bolivia's economic straits today.

10 Same, pp. 473-475-

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 129

Bolivia's Seven Plagues

The continuing march of the Bolivian campesinos to
power was symbolized by the election, in July 1956, of
the syndicate leader, Jose Rojas, to the Senate. Since then,
for the first time in Bolivia's history, the business of the
Senate has been conducted in a native language when the
speaker is unable to express himself in Spanish. In the same
election the political figure most closely identified with
the campesinos, Nuflo Chavez, was elected vice-president.

After coming to power in 1952, the government had dis-
covered, somewhat to its surprise, that it had no choice but
to enact a drastic program of land reform. The same
political realities compelled it to nationalize the tin mines
in accordance with the MNR's electoral promises. The
large vote cast for the MNR in 1951 showed how strongly
the Bolivian people favored the nationalization, and the
new government could not have survived if it had reneged
on its promise. Meanwhile, tin mining, almost wholly
dependent on world-wide economic factors outside Bo-
livia's control, was already encountering stormy weather.

For one thing, the Korean conflict had inflated the price
of tin, and the price and cost of Bolivian tin were swept
to abnormal heights. Suddenly, the turn came. On March
6, 1951, the U.S. General Services Administration an-
nounced that it would not pay the price Bolivia demanded
for its tin, and suspended its purchases for stockpiling. On
May 31, 1951, the U.S. Reconstruction Finance Corpora-
tion contract for the purchase of Bolivian tin also expired
and was not renewed. Meanwhile, the quality of the
Bolivian tin concentrate had been declining as the higher-
grade deposits were exhausted. At the same time, the num-
bers of the tin miners, who enjoyed a privileged position
during the Korean war boom and under the protection of
Juan Lechin, had expanded out of all reason. The situa-
tion became so unfavorable that, before his retirement
from the presidency in 1956, Paz Estenssoro reported that
the production costs per pound of Bolivian tin averaged

130 Social Change in Latin America Today

$1.25. In early 1959, in contrast, the world price was about
$0.90 per pound. The full impact of this gap becomes
apparent when it is noted that over 95 per cent by value of
all exports from Bolivia is accounted for by metals, of
which tin is by far the largest part.11

Apart from tin, the other main pillar of the Bolivian
economy is agriculture. Yet Bolivia has been transformed
into a country mainly of subsistence farmers who are un-
able to feed the cities. The resulting serious food shortage
has been relieved only through U.S. aid which has been
granted for both political and humanitarian motives. In
1955 the U.S. hopes were expressed in a Senate document:

The Department of State, which constantly appraises politi-
cal, social, and economic developments, has concluded that
the Bolivian Government is now Marxist rather than Com-
munist and has advocated United States support of this re-
gime on the same premise that it advocated support of the
preceding military junta— to prevent displacement by more
radical elements.

The administration has accepted the appraisal and the rec-
ommended policy of the State Department and is extending
technical, financial, and material aid to support the Bolivian
Government, at least until 1956. By then it is hoped by the
State Department that political entrenchment and social and
economic progress will have reached a point at which such sup-
port can be sharply tapered off and ultimately no longer re-
quired.12

The continuing instability of the moderate wing of the
MNR was amply illustrated in 1956, when Hernan Siles
publicly declared his reluctance, and at one point his
refusal, to be put forward as a candidate to succeed Paz

11 Bolivia, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Economic Development of the
Republic of Bolivia, Memorandum II (La Paz: Author, December 1954;
mimeographed).

12 Critical Materials, Report of the Senate Economic Subcommittee on
Minerals, Materials, and Fuels of the Committee on Interior and In-
sular Affairs, Doc. no. 83, 84th Cong., ist sess. (Washington: GPO, 1956),
pp. 116-117.

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 131

Estenssoro as president.13 In turn, Foreign Minister Gue-
vara Arze was forced by Juan Lechin to resign from the
government. Finally, a series of riots in La Paz led Presi-
dent Siles to put an end to his policy of "pacification" and
declare a state of siege.

Bolivia's failure to come anywhere near the economic
goals which were envisaged in the U.S. aid program has
been examined in detail in a report by the economic
adviser to the American Embassy in La Paz and a member
of the U.S. Economic Operations Mission. They placed
the blame for the failure, not so much on the dubious
wisdom of the economic policies, but rather on the cir-
cumstance that the policies had been framed in terms of
a society and an economy which had existed prior to 1952,
and which have since then been changed even more dras-
tically than most people realize.14

The crux of the matter is that Bolivia's political and
economic difficulties have been intensified, not reduced,
by the basic social changes of 1952. By 1956, the life of
a majority of Bolivians had been transformed in a mere
two or three years to an extent which is paralleled in Latin
America only by the transformation of the life of the
Mexican peasants. But the transformation has taken place
in Mexico over a period of thirty to forty years.

The election of 1956 installed Hernan Siles as president.
In April 1952 he, with Juan Lechin, had led the fighting
in La Paz that brought the MNR to power. But it was Paz
Estenssoro, who had waited hopefully at the Argentine
border until the fighting was over, who became the first
MNR president, while Siles, as vice-president, remained
out of the public eye. As a result, little was known of Siles'
administrative abilities or personal convictions when he
became president in 1956. However, he soon demonstrated
a rare courage and unswerving belief in orderly processes.

13 Paz Estenssoro was barred by the constitution from standing for
a second term.

14 Cornelius H. Zondag, Problems in the Economic Development of
Bolixna (La Paz: U.S. Operations Mission to Bolivia, 1956; mimeographed)

132 Social Change in Latin America Today

The best example is his defense of the currency and ex-
change stabilization plan drawn up by U.S. experts, which
was put into effect on January 1, 1957. A major difficulty
in securing the adoption of the new plan was that many
government officials were directly interested in continuing
the old system, under which favored individuals could
buy dollars at low "official" rates for importing scarce
goods. Stabilization also brought a wage freeze, while
prices continued to rise. Since this bore with special hard-
ship on the tin miners, Siles soon earned the bitter opposi-
tion of both Lechin, with his fanatic following among the
mine workers, and Vice-President Nuflo Chavez, with his
backers in the campesino organizations. Facing an uphill
fight, Siles took up the struggle against inflation, large-
scale graft, and the near-nihilism of the left wing of the
MNR with remarkable determination.

Among the first to oppose Siles' campaign for economic
reconstruction was Vice-President Chavez. When Chavez
miscalculated his strength and backed an ultimatum to
Congress with a threat to resign, Congress rejected the
ultimatum and accepted his resignation. In December
1956 Lechin, a constant opponent of Siles, organized a
miners' walkout at Llallagua as a demonstration against
the proposed stabilization plan. By declaring a hunger
strike, Siles rallied support and broke the demonstration.
Again, in March 1958, Siles' harassment by Lechin, ap-
parently seconded by Paz Estenssoro, who was threatening
to return to Bolivia from his ambassadorship in London,
was temporarily halted when Siles submitted his resigna-
tion and left the government palace. After six labor unions
had struck in his support and a huge popular demonstra-
tion in the Plaza Murillo had urged him to withdraw his
resignation, Siles consented to return. Speaking from the
back of a small truck, he called for austerity and order, and
warned his countrymen of the chaos that would follow any
attempt to carry out Lechin's promises. Siles was carried
back to the Palacio Quemado on the shoulders of the
crowd. Shortly thereafter, a series of strikes which Lechin

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 133

and his lieutenant, Mario Torres, attempted in the tin
mines, ended in failure.

In 1956, a U.S. Senate committee described Juan Lechin
as "Marxist-minded," and said of his former party:

The POR (Partido Obrero Revolucionario) became the Bo-
livian Trotskyist Party, closely linked with the Peruvian and
Argentine POR and with the Bolivian Central Obrero Bo-
liviano, the principal labor union headed by Juan Lechin,
who, in May 1951, denounced as unconstitutional the law out-
lawing the Communist Party in Bolivia. . . ,15

In 1955, when the U.S. Congress was considering con-
tinuing aid to Bolivia, Lechin resigned as minister of
mines. The sentiment has been expressed frequently in
Bolivia that this step was a condition for the extension of
further aid by the United States.

Meanwhile the stabilization program had begun to have
a dampening effect on the inflation. The boliviano, which
had fallen to about 12,000 to the dollar under Paz Estens-
soro, recovered to around 8,500. By the end of 1957 the
cost of living had begun to decline slightly, thus inter-
rupting a steep rise which had gone on since 1952. In
January 1958, in the face of ineffective opposition, Siles
again froze salaries and wages for another year. But by
December 1958 the cost of living had resumed its upward
climb, and at the end of the year the exchange rate was
again 12,000 bolivianos to the dollar.

Meanwhile, Siles' political problems were growing
worse. Before the congressional elections of July 1958, Paz
Estenssoro returned briefly from London to participate in
the campaign. In this instance, his role was not decisive,
and Siles rode through the election without substantial
gains or losses. In Bolivian politics it is now difficult, how-
ever, to distinguish who supports whom or who is elected
to Congress because he may be less dangerous inside than
out.

In August 1958, Siles issued a new ultimatum— his

15 Critical Materials, cited p. 115.

134 Social Change in Latin America Today

eighth— to Congress to maintain his "hold-the-line" policy,
and for the eighth time he accompanied it by his resigna-
tion from the presidency in case the ultimatum was not
accepted. For the eighth time Congress voted to support
Siles, and for the eighth time he withdrew his resignation.

The opposition's reply to Siles' precarious success was
strikes and more strikes. A transportation strike called by
Lechin closed down the railroads for several weeks. By
early 1959 it had become increasingly clear that Siles could
not convince miners, workers, and farmers of the need of
indefinitely prolonged sacrifices for the sake of stabiliza-
tion. The white-collar workers, formerly a strong support
for the moderate wing of the MNR, were losing faith as
they attempted to live on $20 to $60 a month.

The right also opposed Siles' stabilization program. In
mid-September 1958, Siles' half brother, Luis Adolfo Siles,
representing the rightist PSD (Social Democratic party),
signed a pact with Oscar Unzaga de la Vega, the leader of
the Falange, the bulwark of the opposition, for closer co-
operation between their parties, emphasizing their oppo-
sition to the stabilization and status quo policies of the
Siles faction within the MNR. In it they declared: "The
nation finds itself under a government which survives by
inertia, without faith in its men or methods and without
hope in its ideas."

In late September 1958, the economy and the MNR re-
ceived a harsh blow from a new quarter. During the previ-
ous year, Russia had been selling substantial quantities of
tin in free world markets, at prevailing prices. Most of it
was purchased by the International Tin Council, which
was attempting to maintain a price of 91 cents a pound.
When the Council's funds were exhausted, the price of
this plunged for a time below 80 cents, while Bolivia pro-
tested in the United Nations against Russia's economic
aggression. The imposition by the United States of lead
and zinc import quotas also weakened Bolivia's economic
position. The combination of unfavorable factors caused
the boliviano to slip from about 9,000 to the dollar, at

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 135

which level it had been held for nearly two years, to about
11,220 in September 1958.

In the presidential election scheduled for May, and then
postponed until June i960, Hernan Siles was debarred
from succeeding himself. A comparatively young man, he
will continue to be a force on the political scene. In 1959
Victor Paz Estenssoro returned to Bolivia to campaign for
the presidency. In i960 Paz again demonstrated his con-
trol of the MNR, was elected to a new four-year term in
an election marred by scattered violence and by many
charges of stuffing and stealing ballots. The popularity of
the Paz candidacy was undoubtedly bolstered by Juan
Lechin standing with him for the vice-presidency. The
main opponent to Paz was Walter Guevara Arze, who had
done yeoman service in the MNR since its founding,
serving almost continuously in high office. Guevara had
apparently concluded that i960 was his year for the presi-
dency, and several MNR moderates supported him, even
tentatively organizing a new splinter party, the Authentic
MNR, to oppose Paz Estenssoro's candidacy. For a time
Guevara attempted to dissociate himself from this faction
and from open opposition to Paz, but strong support from
"political control posts" (a kind of urban militia) and
urban residents of Cochabamba forced his hat into the
ring.

Retiring President Siles was as usual in a difficult posi-
tion. When Paz apparently forced Guevara's resignation as
minister of interior in October 1959, Siles appointed him
minister of foreign affairs, a position he had previously
held under Paz. The moderates' support of Guevara, and
Siles' initial refusal to remove him from the cabinet, in-
evitably drove Paz closer to the left, headed by Lechin,
although Lechin has never enjoyed Paz's full confidence.
Immediately after the election of June i960 it was far from
clear how great Lechin's influence would be in the new
Paz administration. Nuflo Chavez's fall in 1956 demon-
strated that MNR vice-presidents are expendable, and Paz
had once before struck down Lechin from cabinet rank.

136 Social Change in Latin America Today

Paz's actions quite obviously will be subject to the pres-
sures brought to bear upon him, and now it matters little
that many of those pressures were of his own making.

In 1959 campesino leader Jose Rojas was named minis-
ter of campesino affairs, technically a step up, but in reality
removing him from direct leadership. He remained in the
cabinet only a few months before his resignation in
November, thereupon returning to the Ucurena area to
participate in virtually open warfare over the future lead-
ership of the campesino movement. New patterns of peas-
ant leadership had not emerged clearly by early i960.
Federico Alvarez Plata, one-time vice-president and presi-
dent of the Senate, and Lechin's opponent in i960 for the
vice-presidency, has made little headway in his attempt to
organize the Aymara-speaking campesinos of the altiplano
to counterbalance the Rojas organization, which is strong-
est among Quechua speakers.

The Falange, the strongest adversary of the MNR, had
meanwhile suffered a severe setback in April 1959, when,
taking advantage of the economic discontent, it staged an-
other of its abortive revolts against the MNR. In La Paz
some two hundred persons were killed in street fighting,
many of them the younger and more fanatic Falangists.
This Sunday morning coup, in which much of the fighting
centered around the Cathedral and the Church of San
Francisco, further discredited the Falange. Party leader
Oscar Unzaga de la Vega was killed, or accomplished the
difficult feat of suicide by two mortal gun shots to the
head. In the i960 elections the Falange, as usual, gathered
substantial support only in the cities.

In the early months of i960 newspapers reported the
Bolivian government as contemplating the establishment
of diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union and the
United Arab Republic. Simultaneously the Soviet govern-
ment was reported to be offering a loan of $70 million to
finance Soviet or Soviet-bloc exports, to help the state-
owned Yacimientos Petroliferos Fiscales Bolivianos build
up the extraction and refining of Bolivia's promising but

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance

underdeveloped oil reserves. There were also reports of
plans to withdraw Bolivia's diplomatic representatives
from Panama and Costa Rica and to handle affairs with
these countries through its ambassador to Cuba. Responsi-
ble newspapers in La Paz were critical of the rumored
moves. But it was significant that the government found it
necessary to plant the ominous rumors, if indeed the
moves were not seriously contemplated, in order to dis-
sociate itself from the accusation of slavish adherence to
U.S. policy as epitomized in the stabilization plan. Unable
for several years to secure U.S. government funds to de-
velop its potential oil resources, in June i960 Bolivia
received its first U.S. government loan, in the amount of
$2.7 million, supplementing private loans by U.S. business,
to develop oil production.

Personal loyalties and ideological abstractions play
major roles in Bolivian politics, but a central factor in the
political struggle today is the persistent economic dilemma
of the country. For the miners and white-collar workers a
new round of inflation threatens their already meager live-
lihood, and political forces on the left and the right are
awaiting the moment when economic despair may further
erode the power of the moderate wing of the MNR. How
have the campesinos fared in these turbulent years? Al-
ways insulated to a high degree against the fluctuations of
the market economy, yet able to expand their subsistence
farms after the land reforms, will their support offset the
discontent of many urban groups, hard hit as they have
been by the continuing crisis and perilously close to the
seat of power? While much has changed since 1952 in the
political power of the campesinos, they are, after all, only
at the beginning of a complex process of social and cultural
change.

"Campesino" Attitudes and Cultural Change

Before the Chaco war, the Indian campesinos had pre-
served many ancient patterns under the crust of a caste

ig8 Social Change in Latin America Today

society. When people spoke of "the Bolivians" they meant
the Spanish-speaking inhabitants of cities and towns. By
merely stating this former basic distinction in Bolivian
life, we can understand better the degree to which it has
already lost its meaning. First, however, we must take a
closer look at the two cultural worlds of the Indians and
the whites, as they have persisted with but little change
from colonial times until recent years.

One factor which has long contributed to the stability
of the Indian-mestizo relationship has been a rigid class
stratification, one so rigid as to approximate a system of
closed castes. Social stratification both supported and was
supported by the habit of viewing the world in terms of
an unchanging hierarchy, of "lower" who were always
lower, and "higher" who were born to be higher. Marriage
within each class, the great obstacles to individual mobil-
ity, and the mutual imperviousness of the classes were re-
inforced by ascribing to each social class certain qualities
which an individual could possess only through being born
into that class. The caste-like rigidity of the society was
strongly reinforced by the continued ascription of an
ethnic or racial distinctiveness to "Indians," "mestizos"
and "white" long after the physiological basis of the dis-
tinction had disappeared. This traditional force of immo-
bility justified the continuing payment by "Indians" of
many obligations— in money, in kind, in service, and in
humble deference— to the benefit of that class which
claimed the mantle of aristocratic status. But the price of
immobility was stagnation.

The social immobility typical of the Bolivian class
structure was further intensified by the absence of educa-
tional facilities for the campesinos living on the latifundia.
While the traditional social stratification operated to re-
strict their social mobility, their economic and geo-
graphical mobility was also severely hampered by lack of
education, widespread illiteracy, a general inability to
speak Spanish, and their ignorance of other opportunities
and other regions.

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance

139

The religious values taught by the Roman Catholic
Church, as it functioned in Bolivian society, and also the
secular nonstriving values held in various classes, tended
likewise to maintain the status quo. The general effect of
these attitudes was to transfer to a future life the aspira-
tion for rewards and to encourage a fatalistic acceptance
of present conditions. In some regions of Latin America
the church has developed an active concern for the social
and cultural advancement of underpriviliged autochtho-
nous groups and classes. No such autochthonous move-
ment has yet appeared in Bolivia, and therefore secular
leaders, drawn from the universities and trade-unions, and
more recently from the peasant class, have supplied the
impetus to break the enchanted circle of immobility.

Under these conditions, the campesinos, living from
their subsistence plots on the latifundia, were barely able
to maintain themselves at this poverty-stricken level, and
even the assurance of a minimum livelihood depended on
the will of the landowners or their agents. The life of the
overpopulated and underdeveloped Andean villages has
been shaped by what may be called the "conservatism of
subsistence," with its suspicion and rejection of change,
particularly as it affects the production of food. Andean
agriculture has remained highly traditional, the campesi-
nos reasoning that the methods they use have afforded a
livelihood to past generations and are likely to do so for
future ones. In a society which is close to a starvation level,
experimentation with what may be better techniques in-
volves a perilous range of risks. In a society which produces
even a slight surplus, experimentation with new crops,
new farming practices, and potentially better seed is prac-
ticable, for the penalty for error is to put up with a tem-
porarily lower return. In the absence of any surplus, and
with even day-to-day maintenance problematical, experi-
mentation runs the danger of reducing agricultural output
below the requirements for subsistence.

The institutions and customs of rural Bolivia placed
political and economic power in the hands of small groups

140 Social Change in Latin America Today

who were primarily interested in preserving the static
social system. Cultural barriers between classes barred
those persons with an interest in changing the status quo
from reaching positions from which they could do so. The
teachings of the church, and widespread attitudes of fatal-
ism, dependency, and conservatism, discouraged those
persons who had the most to gain from a disruption of
the equilibrium from interfering with its continued
preservation.

On another level, Bolivian society was strongly influ-
enced by what can most conveniently be called "paternal-
ism." The patron of the latifundium was visualized as a
patriarch regulating the life of the hacienda. Within the
traditional pattern, the patron functioned not only as an
administrator but also, ideally, as a benefactor who would
provide medicines for the sick, gifts when he stood as god-
father in baptisms, confirmations, or weddings, and per-
haps succor for the family in the event of death. In return
the patron expected from his peasants not only the prompt
fulfillment of their labor obligations, but also personal
loyalty, obedience, and faithfulness in all situations.

It must be emphasized that in practice this ideal pattern
was fulfilled only rarely. More often the patron resided in
cities most of the time, visiting the latifundium only on
special occasions. Haciendas of absentee owners, and the
estates owned by the church or various monastic orders,
were supervised by salaried or commissioned administra-
tors who, although they enjoyed the privileges of pater-
nalism, felt little sense of reciprocal obligation.

But the theme of paternalism was not restricted to the
relation between patron and peasant. It was fostered by
the church, through which the padre served ideally as the
benevolent father of his community and expected unques-
tioning obedience. Even the government encouraged the
pattern of paternalism by "giving" roads, public works,
and tax dispensations to communities in exchange for un-
reserved loyalty to the government, which, in turn, was

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 141

often personified in a single individual, a caudillo, a leader
of absolute power.

Even today the pattern of paternalism persists in the
relations between the campesinos and the government.
The campesinos believe their problems will be resolved
promptly if they can only set them personally before "Don
Hernan" (Siles) or "Don Victor" (Paz Estenssoro). They
believe that special personal consideration is their due,
and they feel that a complete personal loyalty may be
legitimately expected of them by any leader in a position
to benefit them. This is one factor behind the personal
power exercised by such leaders as Jose Rojas or Juan
Lechin.

The persistence of paternalistic attitudes has created
many difficulties in the new setting of individual land
holdings and the new climate of individual initiative.
With the disappearance of the patron, even as a symbol,
the only substitutes which have arisen are the leaders of
the campesino syndicates. In often inexperienced hands the
resulting power has had some unfortunate consequences.

Although the effects of the Chaco war in disrupting the
balance of the traditional society should not be overem-
phasized, it did, in fact, serve as a catalytic agent in a
period of new thinking which accompanied the introduc-
tion of Socialist, Marxist, and "liberal" doctrines into
Bolivia. This new stream of thought worked through the
universities in the late ig2o's and early 1930's, establish-
ing the philosophic basis of an ardent nationalism, which
found its expression in the disastrous war with Paraguay.
Whatever the logic of the position, the effect of the reiter-
ated slogans, the sudden physical equality of combatants
of all classes, the new knowledge of opportunities, all
operated to break or weaken those barriers upon which
the former system had rested.

In the uneasy atmosphere which followed the Chaco
war, troubled further by the vacillations and false starts
of the national government in its promises to help the
campesinos, the more alert and informed peasants of the

142 Social Change in Latin America Today

Cochabamba valleys took matters, as we have seen, into
their own hands. With some help from mestizo leaders,
the syndicate of Ucurefia emerged as a prototype peasant
organization, with a platform and leaders of its own. Offi-
cially, the new government is the strongest supporter of
campesino hopes and actions. At a deeper psychological
level, however, even the present government seems some-
what ambivalent toward that very part of the population
which it has done much to set free. Otherwise, it is difficult
to understand the official proclamation of the second of
August as the annual "Day of the Indian" (el Dia del
Indio), for this assumes that the campesinos will be pleased
by this annual reminder of past contempt for them as a
distinct ethnic group. The purpose of the government is
presumably to honor the folkways of its people. But the
spectacle of a national celebration of "Indian Day,"
centered in Ucurefia around a colossal statue of an ideal-
ized Indian, is a strange sight in a community which has
done more than any other to eradicate from social con-
sciousness the stereotype of "the Indian."

The Process of Cultural Change

When I first attempted to understand the changes that
are taking place among the Indians of Bolivia, I found no
really satisfactory analysis of these complex processes, nor
any studies of the ways in which these changes in Bolivia
may differ from similar processes in other parts of the
Andes. In 1955, as a start toward gathering firsthand data
on social change among the campesinos, I conducted a
survey of seven widely scattered communities in the de-
partment of Cochabamba, based on an eight-page ques-
tionnaire administered to five hundred heads of families.
Among the communities selected there were isolated set-
tlements in the higher altitudes of the puna, villages
located among the mestizo towns in the lower altitudes of
the agricultural valleys, a community in the subtropical
southern part of the department, some villages which had

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 143

been parts of latifundia, and other villages of campesinos
who had owned their individual small-holdings even
before the agrarian reform.

The Indians of the Andes, even those who speak Que-
chua, are not a homogeneous people, nor are their com-
munities made up of like-minded individuals. They
cannot be accurately classed simply as "conservative" or
"progressive," or assigned along a continuous spectrum
between folkways and urban ways. There are great differ-
ences between individual communities, as well as in their
images of themselves and in their attitudes toward that
part of the outside world which they know.

The communities which I studied showed many differ-
ences in the process of cultural change, when compared
with the Peruvian highland villages which I had investi-
gated in 1951-1952 and again in 1953. The differences ex-
plain in part why the Bolivian campesinos have shown so
strong a spirit of cohesion in their mass movement. The
Peruvian Indians of the Callejon de Huaylas, in contrast,
have not developed this potential for coordinated action,
except after receiving the type of guidance described in
this volume by Allan R. Holmberg.

In planning my survey I prepared a set of questions
designed to measure change from a generalized Indian
type to a generalized mestizo type of culture. It consisted
of many of the common cultural indices: language spoken,
type of clothing worn, attendance at Mass, church or civil
marriage, sponsorship of fiestas, school attendance, use of
coca, type of eating utensils, type of bed, diet, use of native
curers or educated physicians, travel, and army experi-
ence. The questionnaire was administered by a Quechua-
speaking interviewer to between fifty and a hundred male
heads of family in each of the seven communities.

The survey brought to light one unexpected conclusion.
Each community as a whole could be ranked, by the pro-
portion of Indian or mestizo characteristics, somewhere on
a spectrum between a purely Indian and a purely mestizo
culture. But, strikingly enough, within each community

144 Social Change in Latin America Today

the individual members could not be ranked meaningfully
on any similar scale. Why this holds true of Bolivian com-
munities is of great importance in understanding the way
in which the society is developing.

Most theories of cultural change have assumed that
when two cultures exist side by side and one is the "donor"
and the other the recipient of cultural traits, there is a
more or less continuous adoption of one set of characteris-
tics by the recipient culture. By borrowing more and more
traits and attitudes, the recipient culture moves along the
scale until it becomes indistinguishable from the "donor"
culture. Or else two cultures may borrow from each other
until a third culture, distinct in many ways from both of
them, has taken their place. In the process of cultural
change, according to commonly held theories, individuals
within the culture display differing attitudes and be-
haviors. Some are innovators of change, some are advo-
cates. Others are acceptors, and still others are rejectors,
of each change along the scale. Within individuals the
sources of these different attitudes and roles toward change
have been sought in psychological factors. Some individ-
uals are more or less dependent upon authorities. Others
favor changes because of a desire for prestige or because of
their competition with rivals.

The assumption behind most theories of cultural change
is that in any community there are certain individuals
with a psychological or economic motivation to accept or
resist innovation, to borrow or reject cultural traits which
they observe in the other culture. In the process of cultural
borrowing some individuals gradually accumulate more
and more characteristics of the "donor" culture. In turn
these innovators exercise an influence upon other mem-
bers of their group and, in the end, the receiving culture
comes to conform more and more closely to the character-
istics of the donor culture.

What I found especially striking in the Bolivian villages
I studied is that the individual villagers do not simply
borrow one mestizo characteristic after another, in a con-

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 145

tinuous movement from Indian to mestizo status. On the
contrary, in the Bolivian communities the adoption of a
mestizo trait does not usually displace or destroy a corre-
sponding Indian trait. The campesinos continue to exhibit
both Indian and mestizo traits, treating each as an alter-
native rather than a mutually exclusive choice. One or two
illustrations may help to show how the two cultures coexist
within the same individual, as well as in the community to
which he belongs.

In a Bolivian village an individual who suffers twice
from the same symptoms of illness may on the first occa-
sion go to an educated doctor for assistance, while on the
second he consults a native curer. The same villager will
wear mestizo clothing when living in a mestizo town, but
he wears traditional Indian clothing while cultivating his
fields. He may normally wear shoes, but he dons native
abarcas, or sandals, while irrigating his crops. The same
individual attends Mass and also publicly lights a candle
before a representation, made of ears of maize, of the
Pachamama, the native goddess of fertility.

Apparently the persistence of Indian traits as socially
acceptable alternatives to mestizo ways is due to the way
the Bolivian campesino looks upon each of these two sets
of traits. Each of the two patterns of characteristics is
recognized by him as denning Indian status or mestizo
status. However, for him the images of Indian and mestizo
are not images of two opposite and exclusive categories.
An Indian who accepts more and more mestizo traits is
still a campesino. But the campesino class is a transitional
one; it partakes of both Indian and mestizo cultures al-
though, taken as a whole, it is moving toward amalgama-
tion with the mestizo population. Since the campesinos
form an entire class which is becoming upwardly mobile,
the Indian traits are not looked down upon, and individ-
uals are not subject to disapproval if they continue to dis-
play them. Conversely, since there is no positive reward to
the individual peasants for adopting mestizo characteris-
tics for their own sake, few feel any urge to assume more

146 Social Change in Latin America Today

of the mestizo characteristics than is justified by their im-
mediate utility. The Bolivian campesino living in his own
community attaches neither prestige nor condemnation to
borrowing this or that mestizo trait.

In the campesino communities surveyed, certain mestizo
characteristics have, of course, become norms of the village
as a whole, and to that extent older, Indian traits have
been displaced. The range of traits that have been gen-
erally adopted varies from community to community, but
the same process has been going on, often in very recent
years. For example, when church marriage, or civil mar-
riage, or the wearing of European-style felt hats has come
to be the norm for a community, social sanctions, such as
ridicule or failure in courtship, are applied to those who
deviate from the new norm, until adherence to it rapidly
becomes universal within the community.

My survey likewise did not demonstrate a steady ac-
cretion of mestizo characteristics from one generation to
the next. If individuals were the vehicles of accultura-
tion, we would expect to observe a constant accumulation
of borrowed traits. If individuals were the agents of
change, these innovating individuals should at least be
able to transmit to their children the mestizo traits which
they themselves had adopted. It is true that in most cases
individuals of each generation showed a greater frequency
of mestizo characteristics than their parents. Yet, the sur-
prising fact is that frequently individuals have not re-
tained the specific mestizo traits of their own fathers. In
some cases, while the father had also spoken Spanish the
son spoke only Quechua. In many cases the father had
attended school, the son had not. The son might sleep on
skins laid on the floor, whereas the father had slept in a
bed. Some fathers were married in civil ceremonies while
their sons sometimes were not. Some sons had resumed
coca chewing after their fathers had abandoned it.

What is the source of these apparent contradictions?
The main factor is that in the Bolivian communities
studied the attainment of mestizo status is not in itself a

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 14-7

highly valued individual goal which may be reached by
acquiring and displaying mestizo characteristics. Rather,
the process of acculturation is based on a generalized shift-
ing of preferences within the entire community, a shifting
which is expressed in the gradual accumulation of mestizo
characteristics, over time, by the community as a whole.
In this situation, individuals seem to feel that they will
attain new status no sooner and no later than their fellow
villagers.

In these villages there is little or no conception of up-
ward social mobility to be achieved by the individual
through his acquiring mestizo characteristics. Accordingly,
those individuals are rare indeed who, because of a per-
sonal aspiration for higher status, attempt to assume all
possible mestizo characteristics in order to reach a status
defined either by them or by the community as a desirable
one. Instead, social mobility within the Bolivian village
has continued to be defined by traditional campesino
norms or concepts, and these include leadership ability in
village affairs, oratorical and persuasive powers, and the
wealth needed to sponsor fiestas.

The process of cultural change which I observed in the
Quechua-speaking communities of Peru was a very differ-
ent one. There two main processes of change stood out.

The first of these was typical of the sierra communities
of the Callejon de Huaylas. There the individual Indians
value mestizo status highly. But they can attain it only by
moving away from the Indian community, settling in a
mestizo environment, and there taking on the whole set
of mestizo traits and abjuring everything Indian. This
means changing completely their dress and their diet, giv-
ing up coca chewing, and even denying that they have come
from Indian communities. This type of change involves
first moving physically out of the Indian environment and
then moving socially upward. Actually, this process is not
one of "acculturation," properly speaking; it is better de-
scribed as a combined pattern of geographical and social
mobility. Many of these individual migrants do not return

148 Social Change in Latin America Today

to their original communities. Those who do go back
revert completely to Indian norms and are reintegrated in
their original status within the community. Thus, neither
the mestizo culture nor the Indian culture is affected im-
portantly either by those individuals who are absorbed
into the mestizo milieu or by those who eventually return
to their Indian communities.

A second type of cultural change can be observed in the
transitional communities of Peru, usually made up of free-
holders who are not attached to latifundia. There, social
mobility within the community is directly related to the
predominance of mestizo over Indian traits. It is to this
limited case that traditional theories of cultural change
apply. In these villages mestizo traits constitute a set of
both outward and psychological characteristics which are
adopted one after another in a fairly well-defined sequence.
Usually the learning of the Spanish language comes first,
then the adoption of Western non-Indian clothing, and
finally a borrowing of more general mestizo behavior and
attitudes. In this situation individuals seeking personal ad-
vantage or prestige serve as agents of change within their
own setting, and their examples influence others to emu-
late them.

In these transitional communities in Peru, there is a
high correlation between travel outside the community,
the learning of mestizo traits, particularly the Spanish
language, and upward social mobility. At any given time
a significant number of adult males are absent from the
communities, working on coastal haciendas or engaged in
commercial transactions with mestizos. These individuals
return periodically to their native communities, and there
they retain their newly acquired mestizo characteristics:
Western clothing, abstinence from coca, and so forth. They
usually speak disparagingly of traits defined as Indian.
They consider themselves mestizos and in fact are usually
called cholos rather than indios. In the Andean region
cholo refers to an Indian who has acquired some "civili-
zation." It is, however, used in an unfavorable sense to

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 149

describe the cholo's acquisition of mestizo characteristics
while at the same time calling attention to his supposed
ethnic distinctiveness and inferiority.

In Bolivia, the process is one of gradual amalgamation,
rather than of sharp and sometimes painful transition.
The broad outline of social change is already discernible.
Sooner or later the campesinos are certain to be absorbed
into a new and more heterogeneous mestizo culture. The
eventual absorption of even the presently isolated campe-
sino communities into a generalized national culture, in
which Indian and mestizo traits persist side by side, is be-
ing greatly facilitated by the distinctive nature of the
process of change. In Bolivia the process is a communal
rather than an individualistic one, and it is based upon a
complementary rather than an antagonistic relation be-
tween the traits of the two subcultures.

The nature of the emergent culture is more difficult to
predict, but a study of the small mestizo town of Cliza in
the upper Cochabamba valley, together with its immedi-
ately surrounding campesino rancherias (villages) offers
some material for projection. Because the campesinos re-
main strongly attached to their outlying communities,
rather than copying the townspeople, it is probable that
the social boundary between town and rancheria will
eventually come to define a class boundary, based on occu-
pations, rather than, as in the recent past, a near-caste
division between indio and mestizo cultures.

The constant use today by town mestizos of many Que-
chua sayings, expressions, and words suggests that a sub-
stantial part of that language, naturally supplemented
heavily with Spanish words, will be preserved in the amal-
gamated culture. The low esteem in which most towns-
people hold the church and its functionaries, and an
incipient anticlericalism which has been noted among the
campesinos, suggest a continuing trend toward the secu-
larization of customs and attitudes.

There is already a considerable evidence of the decline
of fatalism among the campesinos, an attitude which has

150 Social Change in Latin America Today

been in harmony with the teachings of the church. In their
responses to questions concerning their general evaluation
of their economic situation before and after the revolution
of 1952, and their attitudes toward their present way of
life as compared with that before the revolution, the
campesinos in many cases showed a measure of optimism
which they backed up by specific arguments.

The concept of equality of opportunity is well estab-
lished among the campesinos; it is best indicated by their
enthusiasm for building schools and educating their chil-
dren, despite the added economic burdens. There is an
increased interest in taking advantage of opportunities
outside their immediate areas, for example, through the
program for resettling campesinos of the upper Cocha-
bamba valley in the eastern lowlands of Santa Cruz. The
opinion is growing that a person can advance by virtue of
his capacities, instead of being confined to a predetermined
status. The spread of the concept of equality of oppor-
tunity is only one aspect, though an important one, of a
general reshaping of values. The emerging system of values
points away from the older social system, based on in-
herited or ascribed position, and toward one which will
be based on personal achievement.

A further consequence of this new point of view is that
more and more campesinos are coming to hold a favorable
view of the accumulation of wealth. So long as they were
dominated by the latifundium system, the colonos, or
serfs, had little reason to hope for or desire the accumula-
tion of wealth in any form. For one thing, any signs of
prosperity usually served only to arouse the cupidity of
the hacienda patron or his administrator. In addition, the
accumulation of wealth was often regarded by the com-
munity as a sign of meanness. It meant that its possessor
was not fulfilling his duty to contribute to fiestas to the
limit of his ability. Now the attitude is changing. Accord-
ing to case studies made of campesino households in the
Cochabamba valleys, since the 1952 revolution a good
many farmers have taken to buying livestock— oxen, sheep,

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance

J5*

cows— which they regard as a permanent investment. The
building up of this substantial investment in livestock is
a new and satisfying experience for most farmer colonos.

The extent to which accumulated property, or the abil-
ity to accumulate it, is becoming a new source of prestige
among the campesinos is not yet clear. The studies I have
made suggest a more direct relation between the new
prestige scale and certain personal qualities that have en-
abled individuals to rise to positions of influence in the
new political hierarchy based on the rural syndicates.
These qualities are a combination of judgment, reliability,
persuasiveness and ability to interpret the new national
forces to their fellow villagers and to guide them in the
new situation.

Another area in which it is too early to forecast new
trends is that of marriage and family patterns. In this gen-
erally conservative aspect of social life no clear line of
change has manifested itself. Quite possibly, the agrarian
reform, which can provide only bare subsistence plots in
the most heavily populated areas, will eventually result in
the younger family members leaving these holdings in the
hands of the older members while they move away to seek
more favorable opportunities in other parts of the country.
Against this background of turbulent social change, U.S.
economic programs have been one of the factors shaping
the new environment.

U.S. Technical Assistance and Economic Aid

Over the past several years, U.S. grant aid to Bolivia has
been of two kinds: technical assistance, of the type once
called "Point Four"; and economic aid, the direct gift of
food, fibers, machinery and cash. Technical aid programs
are financed by dollar grants from the United States,
roughly matched by grants of the Bolivian government in
its national currency. The food and fibers provided under
the economic aid program are sold in Bolivia, and the pro-
ceeds in bolivianos are used for development programs or

152

Social Change in Latin America Today

other forms of assistance within the country. Technical as-
sistance to Bolivia has totaled $22.6 million since 1941,
$17.9 million of it since 1952 {see Table 1). Economic aid
has cost $112 million, most of it since 1954. The total of
this aid exceeds $40 for each citizen of Bolivia. The tech-
nical assistance program is one of the largest and most
comprehensive in Latin America. The additional eco-
nomic grant aid given to Bolivia exceeds that provided to

Table 1

U. S. Economic Assistance to Bolivia, 1941-1959
(in thousands of dollars)

Fiscal yeai

Grants

Credits

1941-59 22,587

Total aid

Other

Technical

economic

assistance

aid

Total

1941'45

1,926

5,026

6,952

4,510

11,462

1946

561

586

1,200

1,786

!947

493

7>387

7,880

1948

435

6,005

6,440

1949

468

3,200

3,668

!95°

361

980

1*341

1951

409

7409

7,818

1952

657

5,260

5.917

1953

1,264

237

1,501

3.352

4,853

J954

2,924

7>9*3

10,837

1,701

i2,538

1955

i>795

14,062

i5>857

1,110

16,967

1956

i>997

16,056

18,053

3,860

21,913

1957

2,855

20,300

23,155

1,041

24,196

1958

3,400

28,694

32,094

32,120

*959

3>°42

19,690

22,732

764

23,496

12,003 134,59° 47,805 182,395

Note: The figures represent expenditure of grants and utilization of
credits during each year, not the amounts obligated or authorized.

Sources: U.S. Department of Commerce, Foreign Aid by the United
States Government, 1940-1951 (Washington: GPO, 1952), and Foreign
Grants and Credits by the United States Government, June quarters, 1951-
*959 (Washington: Author, 1951-1959); data for technical assistance, 1953-
1959, supplied by the International Cooperation Administration.

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 153

any other Latin American country in the postwar period.16
Technical aid is administered by four "services" (serui-
cios) dealing with agriculture, education, health, and
roads. The services are considered agencies of the Bolivian
government; they are supposed to cooperate closely with
corresponding ministries and are staffed by Bolivian and
U.S. personnel. The first service to be established was in
health, in 1942, one of the first cooperative programs in
Latin America. Education followed in 1944, agriculture
in 1948, and roads in 1955. The programs of the U.S.
International Cooperation Administration cover several
additional fields: civil aviation, a school of public admin-
istration, a minerals survey mission, the preparation of a
national petroleum exploitation code (now completed),
the drafting of a minerals code, a financial survey mission,
an audio-visual center, an office of special projects, and
programs for training Bolivians abroad.

From 1941 to 1954 almost all U.S. grant aid to Bolivia
was in the form of technical assistance. Since 1954 a large
program of economic aid has been added through grants
of surplus agricultural products, machinery, and cash. The
United States has given the Bolivian government, in the
period 1955-1959, $70 million worth of economic aid in
the form of wheat, flour, lard, cottonseed oil, dried milk,
sugar, cotton, aviation gasoline, and other goods.17 The
bolivianos obtained from their sale by the government to
Bolivian consumers have been used for irrigation works,
livestock improvement, a sugar refinery, potato produc-
tion, development of manual arts, credit for miners, in-

16 However, if governmental loans (mostly from the Export-Import
Bank) are included, the total of U.S. aid to several other Latin American
countries is greater than to Bolivia. Before the stabilization loan of 1956,
which is discussed below, Bolivia had received only $41.5 million in U.S.
loans.

17 In this five-year period an additional $28 million worth of surplus
agricultural products was sold to the Bolivian government under a sec-
tion of the Mutual Security Act that provides for payment in the local
currency and for the use of the proceeds by the receiving government
for a variety of economic purposes.

154 Social Change in Latin America Today

dustrial credit, grain storage, road construction, warehouse
construction, airport studies, a National Aeronautics In-
stitute, a school for nurses, construction of the National
Industrial School, the vocational school of Muyurina,
school repair, and colonization programs.

At the end of 1956 the aid program was re-examined.
The urgent need was to bring a halt to an inflationary
process that threatened not only the party in power but
also its social and economic objectives of increased pro-
duction and equitable distribution of income. The gov-
ernments of Bolivia and the United States joined with the
International Monetary Fund (IMF), of which Bolivia is
a member, to carry out a stabilization program aimed at
checking inflation and putting the Bolivian economy in
balance, internally and externally. The IMF advanced
Bolivia a credit of $7.5 million. The U.S. Treasury pro-
vided a stabilization loan of the same amount. ICA, as part
of the total of $23.3 million of economic aid allocated to
Bolivia for fiscal year 1957, made a special grant of $10
million. For its part, the government of Bolivia replaced
a complex system of multiple exchange rates with a single
free rate, abolished all controls on foreign trade and on
internal prices, restricted government expenditures and
private credit, and froze wages at a higher level in antici-
pation of a rise in prices. To help the government avoid
inflationary financing, counterpart funds arising out of
U.S. aid were used, along with cash grants, to meet the
deficit in the Bolivian budget. In 1957 these funds ac-
counted for 39 per cent of the budget receipts and in 1958
for 34 per cent.

During most of 1957 the stabilization program made
modest headway. Inflation was checked, agricultural pro-
duction increased, and goods that would have been smug-
gled out of the country or sold on the black market a
year earlier were offered for sale in the cities. Demand for
foreign exchange was reduced and the drain on the coun-
try's foreign reserves eased.

Not all the effects of the new policy were favorable, how-

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 155

ever. The cost of living shot up as price increases far
outstripped the rise in wages. Industrial activity declined
when manufacturers could no longer import raw mate-
rials at artificially low exchange rates, benefit from illicit
sales in the frontier areas of neighboring countries, or ob-
tain credit on favorable terms. At the same time their
domestic market contracted with the fall in real incomes.
To avert wholesale unemployment, the government pro-
hibited the firing of industrial workers, and the burden of
this surplus labor increased business losses.18 The easing
of the government's budgetary imbalance was also brought
about at the cost of slowing down investment in its devel-
opment and diversification program. Many projects already
under way came almost to a standstill with the curtailment
of government expenditures.

The greatest blow to the stabilization program arose out
of Bolivia's dependence on mineral exports. Normally
exports of tin and other metals account for 95 per cent of
the country's foreign exchange earnings. The collapse of
world metal prices in 1957-1958 cut this income nearly in
two. When the Soviet Union, for the first time, put large
quantities of tin on the world market, Bolivia's own ex-
ports were drastically reduced. In the same period its best
customer, the United States, imposed quotas on imports
of lead and zinc and cut back sharply its purchases of Bo-
livian tungsten. The result, as Table 2 shows, was a decline
of one-third in the dollar value of Bolivia's exports be-
tween 1957 and 1958.

In these circumstances the loans from the United States
and the IMF could not cover as much of Bolivia's balance-
of-payments deficit as had been expected. The sharp de-
is For instance, in December 1958 the British-owned Antofagasta-La
Paz-Cochabamba Railroad declared its inability to continue absorbing its
large losses. Since the company was not allowed to suspend service, the
owners offered to turn it over to the government for a trial period of
one year without charge, with a proviso that thereafter the company would
receive an annual rental of £500,000. The government refused, and the
company eventually withdrew its personnel without reaching an agree-
ment with the government, which now operates the railroads.

i56

Social Change in Latin America Today

Table 2

Bolivia's Exports, 1950-1958

Metals as

Metal

Total

per cent of

Year

exports

total exports

(in millions of

dollars)

1950

89-93

93-95

95-7

1951

Hb^

150-77

96.3

1952

136.29

142.07

95-9

*953

11 9-97

124.49

96.4

*954

100.43

103.69

969

1955

95-°4

99-79

95-2

!956

9901

106.59

92-9

*957

86.58

96.02

90.2

*958

54-70

63.24

86.5

Note: Exports are f.o.b. Metals are tin, lead, copper, zinc and antimony
ores, wolframite, silver; from 1954 to 1958, sulphur and lead and tin bars
and ingots are included.

Source: UN Statistical Office, Yearbook of International Trade Statistics
(New York: Author, various years).

cline in volume and prices of exports inevitably subjected
the internal economy to severe strains. The economic plan-
ners could not have foreseen that the abandonment of
economic controls and their valiant attempts to curb in-
flation would coincide with a major drop in world demand
and prices for minerals. By mid- 1958 Bolivia was faced
with a depreciating exchange rate and extreme pressure
on the balance of payments. One by one the internal anti-
inflationary measures were relaxed. Wage increases were
granted, restrictions on credit were eased, and some price
subsidies were reintroduced.

Even without the decline in the value of metals exports,
the effort to end inflation required difficult economic and
psychological adjustments. Many interests were affected. In
one sector of the society, the tin miners lost the subsidies
that had provided them with cheap food. On the other
hand, industrialists lost the benefits of subsidization
through artificial exchange rates and the reduction of debt

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 157

that accompanies inflation. The shifts in wages, prices, and
profits that accompanied the financial contraction created
many strains and difficulties, and the resulting political
pressures and agitation threatened one of the objectives of
the economic reform: political stability. The export losses
sharpened the threat. An advance in metal prices during
1959 and the efforts made to keep the stabilization pro-
gram from becoming an issue in the i960 elections have
improved the chances of the program's success. Favorable
prognoses became more frequent as the first impact of the
readjustment wore off. But both the political and eco-
nomic outcome remained uncertain, not least because of
the doubt whether the foreign aid program was effectively
reaching down into the roots of Bolivian life.

Some Problems of the Aid Program

One mistake in planning U.S. aid has been encouraged
by Bolivia's own revolutionary leaders as they have turned
more conservative under the pressures of governmental
responsibilities. Both parties to the decisions— U.S. and
Bolivian— have fallen into a double error of judgment.
They have underestimated the profound nature of the
social changes that follow the emergence of the campesinos
from their previous status as serfs, changes that will make
social and economic institutions unstable for a long time.
And both parties have overestimated what an aid program,
even one of the broadest in the world, can accomplish in
imposing stability on an inherently revolutionary process
of change.

The majority of Bolivia's population is caught up in
this process. The campesinos are shedding the lowly status
that previously made possible their ruthless exploitation.
They, and urban Bolivians as well, are demanding more
out of life than they received in the impoverished past.
On the other hand, both the Bolivian government and the
U.S. aid program have had to be concerned with the in-
ternal and external stability of the economy, and with

158 Social Change in Latin America Today

strengthening that sector which is oriented to the world
market. In the process they have frustrated some of the
immediate expectations of the revolutionary groups. The
attempt to meet the new demands without seriously im-
pairing economic stability can succeed only if the formerly
underprivileged and exploited majority learns rapidly
enough to identify its interests with the world-oriented,
exporting-importing sector of the economy. Only then can
the government forestall a clash between the economically
conservative and the socially revolutionary sectors. While
it is true that Bolivia's problems will not be solved until it
can put its economy on a healthy footing, it is also true
that a healthy economy will not automatically bring about
the social development and economic growth that are
necessary. Foreign aid contributes to growth by providing
more resources than the country can pay for, but it is an
instrument of limited scope and flexibility. In Bolivia the
root of the dilemma has been that a U.S. aid program of
the customary type cannot bring about political and eco-
nomic stability in a country that is undergoing a social
revolution except by slowing down or halting that revo-
lution. And in Bolivia that revolution is still running at
flood tide.

After years of radical statements while it was out of
power, and after the brief but sweeping changes of
1952-1953, the MNR government has been forced by a
combination of many factors to adopt unexpectedly con-
servative economic policies. In fact, in 1952 the popular
pressure for far-reaching changes— expropriation of the
mines, land distribution, equal suffrage, and educational
reform— was irresistible. Because the MNR rode the wave
of revolution successfully, most foreign observers still con-
sider the government "leftist," as, in a somewhat philo-
sophical sense, it is.

In fact, however, recent and present MNR practices are
more conservative than we might expect from its pro-
nouncements. In spite of its bankrupt condition, the gov-
ernment has made payments to the Patino stockholders.

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance

*59

When the government saw that it was not able to run the
mines efficiently as a government enterprise, it attempted
to contract for their operation by a private foreign cor-
poration, which declined the offer. Likewise, in 1957 the
government resumed service on its foreign debt, with U.S.
encouragement, thus making good a default that had
continued since the financial collapse of 1929.

The preceding administrations steadfastly resisted the
disruptive policies of Juan Lechin and the radical efforts
of Nuflo Chavez, removing the former from the cabinet
and the latter from the vice-presidency. How far Lechin's
election as vice-president, in June i960, will influence the
course of the new Paz administration is a question mark.
In any case, during his own period as president, Hernan
Siles fought almost singlehandedly and against great odds
to bring the currency stabilization plan into operation at
the end of 1956 and then to maintain it. With the encour-
agement of the United States, he concentrated his efforts
on checking inflation and achieving some measure of eco-
nomic stability. Of necessity this policy has meant reduced
government spending and a postponement of programs
that would contribute to economic development. As the
Assistant Secretary of State for Inter- American Affairs told
a House Committee: "We had to tell the Bolivian Govern-
ment that they couldn't put their money into it [the de-
velopment program] and we weren't going to put ours into
it." 19

Bolivia's precarious situation in the mid- 1950*8 required
a solution to the problem of cumulative inflation. In the
long run an anti-inflationary policy could help economic
growth, but in the short run it posed numerous problems.
The curtailment of the MNR program gave rise to a divi-
sion within the party between advocates of moderate and
extreme reform, and this split has in turn heightened
rather than lessened political instability. Along with the

19 Testimony of Roy R. Rubottom, Jr., in Mutual Security Act of ip6o,
Hearings before the House Committee on Foreign Affairs, 86th Cong.,
2d sess. (Washington: GPO, i960), p. 847.

160 Social Change in Latin America Today

loss of metals exports and other misfortunes visited on the
Bolivian economy, the curtailment of the program has also
involved the United States in a series of bailing-out oper-
ations whose benefits have been visible to only a small part
of the Bolivian population.

U.S. aid has perhaps been too broadly spread and has
attempted to reach into too many parts of Bolivian life,
or at least the life of Spanish-speaking Bolivians. Its pro-
grams range widely, from training in public administra-
tion, to cattle raising in the Beni, to gifts to make up the
national deficit. A program that attempts so much is in-
evitably spread thin; at times it lacks coherence and creates
an expectation that U.S. assistance can be counted on to
meet every need or overcome every difficulty.

Closely related to this is the tendency of part of the aid
program to become linked with institutions that continue
to depend upon U.S. support. Some projects have been
going on for seventeen years. Begun as limited and tempo-
rary undertakings, often advisory in character, they have
grown over the years and have acquired handsome physical
assets that have then required more and more money to
maintain and operate. Sometimes they become too large
and too expensive for the Bolivian government to take
over and run. By this time the investment in them is so
great that it is difficult to contemplate abandoning them
in order to assign funds to more pressing needs. Within
this category fall the impressive but costly health center
in Cochabamba, the experimental station of La Tambo-
rada, and the vocational school of Muyurina.

For reasons of convenience, the aid programs have been
directed largely at the Spanish-speaking minority of the
Bolivian population. It is difficult to work with the
Aymara and Quechua campesinos. Their cultures are un-
familiar to most U.S. and many Bolivian technicians, and
on their small plots it is impossible to apply the extensive
farming methods which account for so many of the activ-
ities of the agricultural service. Similarly, locating the
health and education services in fixed centers has largely

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 161

isolated them from the majority of villagers. All three
services could facilitate the changes which are taking place
among the campesinos only if they had more physical
mobility.

One unforeseen effect of several programs has been to
encourage the already serious exodus of trained personnel
from Bolivia. With the best of intentions, the agricultural,
education and health services, and the civil aviation mis-
sion—among others— have sent Bolivians abroad for train-
ing. On their return they have not found jobs in which
they could use their new training; or the jobs which are
available pay only a small fraction of what they can earn
elsewhere, even in neighboring Peru, Argentina, or Chile.
As a result many young people who have been trained at
great expense seize the first opportunity to leave for
greener pastures. Only by planning new training programs
in keeping with employment possibilities can this loss of
ambitious and skilled people be avoided.

Finally, the U.S. aid program has taken little advantage
of the opportunity to promote settlement in the rich and
almost unoccupied lowlands of eastern Bolivia. Although
the Bolivian government has met with many discourage-
ments in its colonization projects despite the high priority
attached to them, this has nearly always been due to its
attempt to do too much too quickly. Of course, there are
social problems of adjustment, particularly in resettling
highland Aymara and Quechua-speaking peasants in sub-
tropical areas, where their new neighbors are ignorant of,
and hostile to, the newcomers' cultures and languages.
But with patience and understanding these adjustments
can be worked out, as has been demonstrated in the success-
ful project of "Aroma." Under this program Quechua-
speaking peasants of the Cochabamba valleys have now
been permanently settled near Montero in the department
of Santa Cruz. One reason why this project has attracted
little attention is because it has been carried out with only
modest financial aid from outside, apart from the govern-
ment's help in supplying the most necessary tools. Perhaps

162 Social Change in Latin America Today

the settlers' own investment of time and effort has given
them a closer identification with their new colony than
in the case of other resettlement projects. At various times
the Point Four program began colonization projects in
the Caranavi and Inquisivi areas, both near La Paz, only
to see them abandoned sooner or later.

The lag in opening up new agricultural lands has been
especially serious because in its planning the U.S. aid
program relied heavily on the Bolivian government's con-
fidence in its ability to develop the Santa Cruz area rapidly
enough to relieve the strains caused by the decline in
mining and agriculture. Meanwhile, it is true, a large
investment has gone into building the Cochabamba-Santa
Cruz highway and extending it to Montero and Porta-
chuelo, and into building the Santa Cruz-Corumba rail-
road, the Guabira sugar mill, and into constructing the
Piray River bridge. All these expensive projects can pro-
duce economic benefits for large numbers of people in
the near future only if enough people actually move to the
new lands. Only then can they produce cane for the new
mills, or grow the great variety of subtropical products
which can now be shipped out to Cochabamba and beyond.
Over the long run these developments will perhaps attract
many settlers, but so far there has been a large investment
in basic facilities and too little social planning of how to
put it to effective use.

In general the U.S. aid experts and the Bolivian govern-
ment have been equally mistaken in their attempts to
interpret the needs of the campesino masses. Long-range
development programs have too often been stressed, rather
than smaller-scale, short-term schemes which would raise
living standards for the majority of underprivileged
peasants. The campesino reaction has sometimes been
dramatic. For example, while in theory the agricultural
service had four experiment stations, for a time only three
were in operation. One station, at El Belen on the altiplano
had been seized by the campesinos who attempted to divide
its property for farming land. At La Tamborada, the sta-

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 163

tion in Cochabamba, a number of valuable bulls imported
for breeding purposes were slaughtered and consumed by
the campesinos. The peasants' desire for immediate bene-
fits is a factor that cannot safely be ignored.

To the campesinos' desire for seed, land, and water, the
agricultural service has too often responded by offering
insecticides, sprayers, fertilizers, and a school for training
tractor mechanics. These innovations, while potentially
valuable, are not adapted to the level of agricultural
techniques practiced in most of Bolivia. The agricultural
service has suffered from being too close a copy of the U.S.
Extension Service.

The operations of the health service are limited by its
small staff. Townspeople benefit from the health centers;
the great majority of campesinos do not. With a more im-
aginative approach, backed by a small addition to its
staff, the health service might cooperate effectively with
the provincial medical officers who are required by the
government to serve one year in a rural province before
becoming licensed physicians. In cooperation, the two
staffs together could do much to extend a knowledge of
preventive medicine and treatment of disease to the
campesinos. At the present time the campesinos rely mainly
on the native curers, the curanderos.

Many of the aid programs never reach the campesinos
simply because their staffs have little contact with or
knowledge of the villages. Often the Bolivians employed
by the various services are as ignorant of the peasant society
around them as are the U.S. experts who arrive with no
previous experience of Bolivian rural life.

The hopes of what U.S. assistance could accomplish for
Bolivia have often been grossly overstated. It is difficult
to believe that any combination of programs, however
realistically planned, could slow Bolivia's revolutionary
social changes to an even-keeled evolutionary line of
development, halt inflation, eliminate exchange and budg-
etary deficits, provide roads, enlarge credit facilities, im-
prove health, bolster education, develop agriculture— and

164 Social Change in Latin America Today

at the same time avoid creating an overpowering sense of
dependence or introducing the new problem of how the
programs can be gradually tapered off without giving rise
to serious disruption.

The Bolivian aid program has attempted much; its
failures have been readily apparent, its successes often lie
beneath the surface. A stranger to the country— especially
one unfamiliar with the pathetic degradation of a majority
of its population before 1952, insensitive to the new aspira-
tions of a generation whose fathers were serfs, or who
thinks of Bolivia as simply one more Latin American na-
tion—would see only the failures of the aid program and
would feel well advised to wash his hands of a difficult
and thankless task. This view would be a narrow appraisal
of the meaning of aid, and would overlook the fact that
U.S. aid has accomplished well its apparently modest but
in fact very difficult original intention: to help a group of
men who accept the principles of democracy, who reject
totalitarianism, whether exercised by a wealthy elite or in
the name of the masses, to build a nation dedicated to true
democracy and willing to assume a responsible place in the
community of nations. These men were still in power in
June i960, and in all probability they would not have
been in power, had it not been for U.S. aid. These men
made a revolution which will forever change the course
of life of their people. They made a revolution and they
are in power eight years later, not a small accomplishment
in the eyes of anyone who understands the meaning of
revolution.

The inauguration of a new president, in August i960,
marked the third consecutive transfer of power to a demo-
cratically elected president, a development unprecedented
in Bolivian history. Democratic institutions, which have
been tried before and failed, are now succeeding. In a
sense the revolution has come full cycle. The man most
responsible for the reforms has once more been elected
to execute them. The nation, now in its eighth year of
experimentation with democracy, is still balanced pre-

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 165

cariously between a belief that democracy is identified with
social justice, and despair that mere men can accomplish
the connection.

U.S. aid to Bolivia has, I believe, accomplished its basic
purpose and should be continued. Its overriding purpose
is to help Bolivia find and follow the path of democracy
and responsibility. Other and varying criteria have been
applied to the Bolivian programs: Has it increased pro-
ductivity? Has it raised the standard of living? Has it made
friends for the United States? Has it promoted political
stability? Has it promoted economic stability?

Some of these questions are answered here, others are
not. Some reflect shallow thinking— such as the assumption
that aid programs ever make "friends." Others raise com-
plex questions such as that of the whole interrelationship
between social change, political revolution, economic de-
velopment, and the nature of stability. In a larger sense all
these questions are irrelevant before the main question:
does the program aid a country in its struggle toward
democracy and responsibility?

This was broadly the criterion which the United States
applied to its Bolivian aid program from 1952 to 1956.
From 1941 to 1952 the criteria were strategic and humani-
tarian. Since 1956 the United States has applied a narrowly
economic criterion to measure the effectiveness of aid, as
illustrated in the report of the Senate Committee on Gov-
ernment Operations of i960. Testimony in this report
pointed the finger of wrath at an irrigation project which
was later called "a worthless project, poorly planned and
poorly administered," and the Muyurina vocational school,
which was condemned as "an overbuilt, overequipped
plant, years ahead of the need . . . and too expensive, too
elaborate for Bolivia to operate. . . ." 20 There has no
doubt been waste, inefficiency, and sheer ignorance in the

20 Administration of United States Foreign Aid Programs in Bolivia,
Report no. 1030 of the Senate Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations
of the Committee on Government Operations, 86th Cong., 2d sess.
(Washington: GPO, i960), pp. 10, 11.

166 Social Change in Latin America Today

U.S. attempt to be all things to Bolivia. A generous ob-
server would hope that the United States can learn from
its mistakes, make its programs more pointed and more
effective in line with their immediate economic justifica-
tion. But the people of the United States would be seri-
ously mistaken if it allowed difficulties on this level to put
in question the wisdom of its original and paramount aim,
that of helping a group of courageous men in their be-
deviled and magnificent effort to bring Bolivia from
feudalism to democracy.

Bolivia's Economic Prospects

Bolivia is confronted with problems common to many
underdeveloped countries: dependence on a few basic ex-
ports, low productivity, lack of capital, and an absence
of the spirit of enterprise. In addition Bolivia has had a
history of political instability, violent social upheavals, and
demoralizing inflationary cycles that have delayed the
establishment of institutions essential for economic de-
velopment. At the beginning of the 1960's the prospects
for both political and financial stability seem far more
promising than they were before. The moderate wing of
the MNR has maintained itself in power for eight years,
the country's currency has been stable for a year and a
half, and internal prices have been kept under control.

With these essential conditions for economic health
achieved, Bolivia still faces the hard job of increasing out-
put and productivity in all sectors of the economy if the
country is to live within its income and provide a better
standard of living for its increasing population. Agricul-
tural output must rise so that meager foreign exchange
reserves need not be spent on food and fiber imports. About
two-thirds of the population live by agriculture, but these
people are concentrated in the Andean highlands and
valleys, where land suitable for cultivation is badly eroded
and low in fertility, and where many plots are so small and
distribution channels so undeveloped that little is pro-

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 167

duced for market. Some increase in productivity in the
areas now under cultivation can be expected with the
introduction of more advanced techniques, but the pros-
pects for large-scale increases lie in the plans for opening
up the vast and largely uninhabited areas of the fertile
eastern lowlands. The Bolivian National Institute of
Colonization is engaged in a program of resettlement in
the Santa Cruz area, and the UN Special Fund is contribut-
ing $283,500 for surveys of the region. (Another contribu-
tion of $336,500 will go for training at two agricultural
schools.) The Bolivian government has a broad program
covering crop diversification, road-building, electrical
power installations, and plants to process the products of
the region. Exports of tropical products— oranges, bananas,
and coffee— are already providing some foreign exchange,
and Bolivia's rice and sugar requirements are being in-
creasingly met from domestic supplies.

The future of tin is uncertain; its use has not kept pace
with the growth of the world economy. As a high-cost
producer Bolivia is at a competitive disadvantage in com-
parison with other major tin-exporting areas, and the
declining grade of its ores and the prospective changes in
world demand make reliance on this metal hazardous. In
other metals Bolivia is generally a low-cost producer, and
the prospects for some of them— particularly gold, anti-
mony, and tungsten— are more favorable. The hopes of
extractive industry lie chiefly in petroleum. Drilling con-
cessions were granted to private foreign companies in 1956,
and a pipeline across the Andes to Chile has been built.
Exports of crude petroleum and gasoline have been rising
steadily and an increasing share of the domestic market is
being supplied from domestic production.

Manufacturing has made a very small contribution to
national income, not only in absolute terms but also in
comparison with other Latin American countries. A
limited internal market, shortage of capital and skilled
labor, dependence on imports for raw material supplies,
and high transport costs have all contributed to a low level

i68 Social Change in Latin America Today

of industrial activity. The expansion and diversification of
Bolivia's manufacturing and service industries are essential
since the capacity of the agricultural and mining sectors
to absorb additions to the labor force is limited, the first
by the difficulties of reclaiming land in the Oriente and
establishing the settlers there, the second by the surplus
labor already underemployed in the mines. Until foreign
reserves are larger and foreign funds more readily obtain-
able, Bolivia will have to develop those branches of in-
dustry that require small capital investments— processing
of food and fibers, refining of ores, production of materials,
such as cement and bricks, that are needed for develop-
ment work, the manufacture of textiles and household
goods. With an advance in agriculture from subsistence
farming to the production of cash crops, new domestic con-
sumers will be found for Bolivia's industrial goods.

The expansion of production in manufacturing and
agriculture must be accompanied by even larger advances
in two basic activities: energy production and transport.
Bolivia has abundant hydroelectric and petroleum re-
sources; it lacks the financial resources needed for their
exploitation. And few countries have faced the transport
problems that altitude and difficult terrain present in
Bolivia, or a greater need for improvement in road and
rail facilities. Here are two areas essential to economic
development, in which foreign funds have traditionally
been invested and where, for Bolivia, they are an indis-
pensable supplement to its own efforts.

Another Approach to U.S. Aid

In its relations with Bolivia the United States has a
special opportunity to exercise imagination and to answer
its critics. Many Latin Americans have fixed ideas about
their North American neighbor. One such idea was elo-
quently expressed in early i960 by the Students' Federa-
tion of Chile in an open letter delivered to President
Eisenhower during his visit to four South American Re-

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 169

publics. In the name of its 25,000 members, the federation
asked President Eisenhower if the United States had be-
come "a satisfied nation which fights for the maintenance
of the established order in Latin America." If so, accord-
ing to the federation, U.S. policy would logically aim to
protect the privileges of "a thin layer of the population
which controls the power and wealth, surrounded by an
ocean of poor people for whom the 'social order' means
little or literally nothing. If the injustices of today are all
that Christianity or democracy can offer this continent, no
one should be surprised if the best children of these na-
tions turn toward communism, seeking those elementary
needs which they lack and which are the essentials to
morality and civilization: food, shelter, and education." 21
This is a serious question, asked by a group of men
who have considerable political influence in Chile, and in
coming years will have more. They are not Communists.
They recognize that communism is an alternative they
may have to face if the well-established democracies of the
world value stability above social justice. They know that
the United States is committed to an ideology of non-
intervention in the affairs of Latin American countries,
but they also know that the United States, by the fact of
its existence, deeply affects the internal affairs of the
smaller republics in the southern half of the hemisphere.
Further, they are aware that the United States maintains
programs of aid and possesses powerful economic weapons
that have been used in the past and may be used in the
future. The economic power of the United States may be
used to help a country preserve a system that deprives a
majority of the population of the opportunity to achieve
higher living standards; or it may be used to assist a coun-
try in carrying out changes that put the interest of the
majority before those of a minority. The United States
cannot escape making a choice. Many Latin Americans,
particularly younger ones, believe the United States has

21 The New York Times, March 2, i960.

170 Social Change in Latin America Today

chosen to maintain the stability of control by a minority
rather than risk the upheavals that often attend the as-
sumption of power by a majority.

President Eisenhower replied to the students' question
in a letter of his own: "At once I recognize that you are
giving serious thought to hemispheric and world problems;
that some of your critical claims are justified; but that
other statements indicate a serious lack of comprehension
of United States positions and responsibilities." He spoke
out more strongly to a group of U.S. citizens in Santiago:
"And then I have heard it said that the United States
supports dictators. This is ridiculous. Surely no nation
loves liberty more, or more sincerely prays that its benefits
and deep human satisfactions may come to all peoples than
does the United States." 22

Latin American students, many as familiar with U.S.
history as their North American counterparts, do not
doubt the President's words. But they and 175 million
other Latin Americans would like nothing better than to
see the United States actively and effectively assisting a
country that has curtailed the power of an oppressive
minority and has extended the vote and the chance to
attain "those elementary needs . . . which are the essentials
to morality and civilization" to millions who never knew
them before. Bolivia is such a country.

The United States has been successful in the three
major purposes that have shaped its aid programs in
Bolivia. The modest program from 1941 to 1952 estab-
lished pilot projects and helped keep a sometimes waver-
ing government on the side of the Allies during World
War II. From 1952 to 1956, U.S. aid almost certainly was
instrumental in keeping the moderate wing of the MNR
in power. From January 1, 1957, into i960, the govern-
ment's austerity program, undertaken on the recommenda-

22 Same.

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance

171

tions of the United States and the International Monetary
Fund, and supported by their aid, has contributed an im-
portant element of stability to the Bolivian economy, albeit
at great cost. The time is certainly ripe for a more dra-
matic, a more active, plan.

A more dramatic program need not necessarily cost
more money. Allan R. Holmberg's study (see above)
vividly demonstrates the extent to which self-help and true
cooperation can stretch dollars. At the same time scores
of projects, from that at Vicos to the resettlement pro-
gram near Montero in Bolivia, suggest that the sense of
participation that comes from the aid recipients becoming
involved in all stages of planning, operation, and support
may be the key to the success of the program and to mutual
respect between the cooperating parties.

In the last few years the U.S. program in Bolivia has
suffered from faulty administration and inadequate super-
vision of aid-supported activities. In many instances in-
experienced personnel, both Bolivian and American, have
failed to evaluate with sufficient care the requirements of
an area for which an aid project was planned and have
exercised poor judgment in the supervision of the opera-
tions once they were under way. Charges of irregularities,
wasteful and inefficient procedures, and misuse of funds
have come from the U.S. Congress and from many Bolivi-
ans, who were dismayed by the shortcomings of some of
the projects. The most serious complaints have centered
on the failure to estimate the feasibility of projects in
terms of existing conditions and on the injudicious pro-
curement of equipment, sometimes greatly in excess of
needs, sometimes ill adapted to the purposes for which it
was to be used.

The aid program has shown a number of major weak-
nesses. It has been spread thin, mainly over the Spanish-
speaking population. It is too rigid and too elaborate in
its institutional structure, and patterned too closely after
U.S. models. Its impact is not sufficiently felt by the mass of
campesinos. Even those programs intended to benefit

172 Social Change in Latin America Today

large numbers of people lack direct and immediate im-
pact on those groups that they are designed to benefit. The
United States, forgetful of its own history, has shown too
little sympathy for the Bolivian government's compulsion
to push its frontier down from the densely populated,
inhospitable highlands into the plains of the eastern low-
lands. Finally, many programs have created dependence.
Instead of becoming self-sustaining, they are still too ex-
pensive for the Bolivians to carry forward by their own
efforts.

The technical assistance program, in which the possi-
bilities for direct contact with large numbers of Bolivians
are greatest, has displayed a fundamental weakness. It has
become crystallized around the structure of the servicios
instead of achieving the flexibility and widespread local
participation that it needs. The health, agriculture, edu-
cation, and roads services have been for the most part
inflexible in their planning, administratively top-heavy,
preoccupied with policy, and too often dependent for their
contact with the Bolivian people on a handful of nationals
who have made a profession of dealing with North Ameri-
cans. They have disregarded the psychological value of
stressing local participation.

These defects are not inevitable. They could be largely
overcome by putting more stress on the needs of specific
communities or areas and by making each project a focus
of local activity. Teams composed of both Bolivians and
North Americans could be made mobile, instead of being
tied, like most of the aid projects, to a few favored locali-
ties. Their main function would be to provide materials
and direction that are not available in the local commu-
nity, and to utilize fully the local resources of leadership,
materials, and labor, not only for obvious economic rea-
sons, but even more importantly for the intangible reasons
of strengthening local identification with the project and
encouraging local responsibility. Persons respected in the
town or village should be brought into the planning of

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 173

each project at the earliest possible time, and they should
feel that their views are known and respected.

This is, admittedly, not the most efficient way to build
a school, a road, or a sugar mill, but there are many ad-
vantages not apparent at first. One is a kind of "social
multiplier" effect. The spectacle of work going forward
in one community may stimulate another community to
try its hand at a similar project. For example, the con-
struction of an impressive school building by the Indians
of Vicos in Peru prompted a nearby mestizo town to install
a water system. Even more impressive is the widespread
knowledge of the Vicos project in the remotest parts of
Peru. The Peruvian Indigenous Institute has scores of
painfully composed letters from Indian communities ask-
ing how they too can become like the Vicosinos. Another
advantage of the focused project is the weakening of
attitudes of paternalism— the lethargy of waiting for "the
government" to "give" the town a road. Only thus can the
tradition of dependence be weakened and eventually de-
stroyed. The sharp definition of goals has propaganda
value, and the North American personnel in the field are
much more real symbols of U.S. good will than any num-
ber of cases of dried milk labeled "From the People of
the United States of America."

The ultimate and perhaps crucial advantage of the proj-
ect approach is that it can be expanded and contracted in
accordance with the vacillation of the degree of U.S. inter-
est in Bolivia's development in a way that will do the least
harm to that country and to relations between it and the
United States. Five school-building projects would be
good. Fifty would be better. The eradication of malaria in
Guayara Merim is a lasting and well-remembered fact.
The eradication of malaria in a hundred settlements of
Santa Cruz and the Beni is possible, and it would leave
behind a permanent respect for the United States. The
ideal answer, of course, is that the United States should
understand the great impact its existence and its aid pro-
grams have on a country such as Bolivia. With this under-

174 Social Change in Latin America Today

standing there would grow a sense of obligation in the
United States to vote aid, once decided upon, for a numbei
of years at a time. In the meantime, the more flexible
project approach can do more than the present program to
enlist the efforts of Bolivians in recognizing and meeting
their felt needs for local development.

A new emphasis on community projects is not the
whole answer to Bolivia's problems, nor will it meet all
the goals of the U.S. aid program. It can help significantly
in Bolivia's economic development and it is an important
way of dramatizing U.S. sympathy and cooperation. In
money terms, however, the other elements in the aid pro-
gram have been greater than technical assistance. They
have also been deeply involved in the dilemmas the United
States faces in its aid to Bolivia.

U.S. aid has been of crucial importance in keeping the
moderate leaders of the MNR in power. Since 1956, how-
ever, aid has been intimately linked with the stabilization
program, which has provoked serious political reactions.
In effect, U.S. aid, as well as the loan from the IMF, has
been conditioned on Bolivia's persisting in its program
of austerity and economic readjustment. This has been
judged necessary to prevent the economy from being en-
gulfed by inflation, to lay the foundations for future
stability and growth, and to ensure the most productive
use of aid as well as of Bolivia's own strained resources. It
has created, however, a set of political dilemmas for all
concerned.

The help of the IMF was sought, at least in part, to
reduce the political strains on the Bolivian government
and on U.S. -Bolivian relations by giving the stabilization
program an international status and backing. Though it is
"nonpolitical," the Fund cannot be indifferent to the
political fate of the member government with which it is
cooperating. The Bolivian government in turn has felt it
could not abide by all of the conditions stipulated in its

Bolivia and U.S. Assistance 175

agreement with the IMF and still remain in power. It has
moderated some of the austerity measures, but the freezing
of prices in the miners' commissaries has dangerously
strained relations between the miners and the campesinos
when the campesino militia was used to break a strike of
the miners against enforcement of the stabilization plan.
The MNR moderates have become increasingly identified
with the United States, whereas the left has found it in-
creasingly effective to be anti-American. One can under-
stand the poignancy of President Siles' complaint to the
head of the IMF mission in Bolivia: "The United States
has given me just enough rope to hang myself."

The United States faces the dilemma of its dual interest
in fostering a stable and moderate government and in
strengthening a sound economy in Bolivia. Concern for the
long run and the short, for politics and for economics,
has created for U.S. policy the paradox of publicly support-
ing the moderates while making its aid conditional on
economic measures that may prove to be their political
undoing. Like the Bolivian government, the United States
has adjusted some of its stern economic requirements to
meet the sterner political requirements.

In spite of vigorous disapproval of the handling of aid
and some suggestions that it be discontinued, the U.S.
Congress concluded in the spring of i960 that the aid pro-
gram had enabled Bolivia to weather a crisis without a
major upheaval in its economy or political structure.
There was hope that the re-examination of the aid pro-
gram, brought about by unfavorable criticisms of its past
operations, would lead to more effective use of both the
U.S. and Bolivian contributions. This will mean the re-
organizing of administrative procedures and the elimina-
tion of uneconomic practices.

But major problems will persist. The United States will
have to provide aid to help Bolivia find new sources of
livelihood to replace tin exports that will never again
support the country's foreign trade. To escape the basic
dilemma, U.S. aid policies must become flexible enough to

176 Social Change in Latin America Today

reconcile the requirements of economic stability and mod-
erate government in a revolutionary situation. This will
require finding the means of easing the austerity program
without plunging the country into a new spiral of inflation,
of keeping the most important economic gains thus far
achieved while enabling the moderates to gain political
strength, of maintaining the present level of aid to Bolivia
without imposing conditions that are beyond the ability
of the government to fulfill. Otherwise the United States
must face the virtual certainty that eventually Bolivia will
be governed by the MNR left, with Juan Lechin as most
probable president— a man who has built his career on
hostility to the United States. Finally, and urgently, the
United States must dramatize its friendly purposes to the
campesinos who, having emerged from four hundred years
of serfdom, now hold Bolivia's future in their hands.

This multiple task takes more than money. It requires,
on the part of both the United States and the representa-
tives of the Bolivian people, a more profound understand-
ing of the Bolivians' culture, their newly emerging society,
and their aspirations for a future very different from the
past.

Four

THE BRAZILIAN REVOLUTION:
SOCIAL CHANGES SINCE 1930

by Charles Wagley

Brazil of the mid-twentieth century seems to live in a
state of feverish crisis. While one economic crisis leads to
the next, Brazilian industry expands rapidly but monetary
inflation continues its painful course. A building boom
is under way in all the big cities, but shantytowns con-
tinue to sprawl. The tortuous course of Brazilian politics
is hard to follow. A dictator, Getulio Vargas, overthrown
in 1945, in 1950 was elected president of the republic in
an orderly and honest election. Despite the scandals that
brought this same ex-dictator to suicide in August 1954,
his political party and political heir were victorious in
the elections of 1955. An ex-governor of the rich state of
Sao Paulo, who received over two million votes in the
presidential election of 1955, fled the country when a Sao
Paulo court found him guilty of malfeasance in office.
Cleared of these charges by the Supreme Court, Adhemar
de Barros returned to be elected mayor of the city of Sao
Paulo in 1957. Meanwhile, crises afflict amost every facet
of Brazilian life— transportation, food supply, water, elec-
tricity, schools.

An earlier version of this study, A revolugao brasileira: Uma andlise
dos mudangas sociais desde 1930, was published by the Fundacao para o
Desenvolvimento da Ciencias na Bahia (Bahia, 1959).

177

178 Social Change in Latin America Today

Specialists in different fields of study explain this con-
tinued state of crisis in different ways. An economist wor-
ries about the adequacy of capital formation, the pressure
of inflation, and the recent upsurge of industrialization.
A political scientist with an historical bent may attribute
the confusion in political life to the disintegration of
Brazilian political institutions and parties during the fif-
teen years of Vargas' dictatorship. A demographer could
point to the explosive rise in the population, the amazing
growth of the cities, and the disorderly migration of people
from one region to another. As a social anthropologist, I
am inclined to emphasize the shifting alignment of social
classes, and the appearance of new social and economic
groups, as crucial factors. Each specialist would in a sense
be right. Each describes but one aspect of a basic transfor-
mation in Brazilian society, a transformation which began
during the early years of this century, has been felt with
increasing intensity since 1930, and has not yet run its
course.

This process of transformation, which I shall call the
"Brazilian revolution," is at once an economic, a political,
and a social revolution. It has not taken the form of armed
rebellion or civil war, nor is it expressed in a set of con-
sciously planned policies and ideals such as those that
developed out of the Mexican revolution of 1910.1 Rather,
it has happened, and is still happening largely without plan
or ideology, except as each political administration at-
tempts to solve the more urgent problems which arise out
of the process of change. From an essentially agrarian,
rural, semifeudal, and patriarchal society, Brazil is now
in the process of becoming a modern, industrial, urban-
centered, capitalistic society. Brazil is midway in a process
of changing from its "traditional" structure of the nine-
teenth century to a "new" Brazilian society of the future.
The process is painful and often costly. It makes the policy
of the United States, or any other nation, toward Brazil

1 Cf. Nathan L. Whetten, Rural Mexico (University of Chicago Press,
1948), p. viii.

The Brazilian Revolution 179

difficult to chart. At the same time, it is all the more im-
portant that we chart it wisely if we wish to insure that
this "new" Brazil will emerge as a strong and prosperous
democracy.

Traditional Brazil

In the first decade of this century, Brazil was a relatively
poor and isolated nation. It had less than eighteen million
people; only about 25 per cent of them were literate. The
purchasing power of the great mass of people was so low
that few industries were able to develop. Almost every-
thing but the barest necessities had to be imported. Brazil-
ians of higher incomes had learned to depend upon
Europe for practically every manufactured article— for the
material for their clothing and even for many food items,
such as tinned butter. Brazil's economic life was based on
a few commercial crops and the gathering of native prod-
ucts from the land. In the Amazon valley, a rubber boom,
based on the collection of wild rubber in the jungle, was
in full swing, only to collapse in 1912, when Asian planta-
tions came into production. In the northeast, the sugar
plantations were frankly in decline, and cotton, which had
brought a temporary prosperity, had already lost out to
the competition of cheaper production in the southern
United States. Cocoa production in southern coastal Bahia
constituted a growing but limited enterprise. The only
significant factor of expansion was the planting of coffee
in Sao Paulo and Minas Gerais.

Communications between different regions were sadly
lacking. Transportation between coastal cities was by boat,
and it was often just as expensive and time-consuming to
ship cargoes from a southern to a northern port within
Brazil as it was to Europe.2 Communications with the
interior hardly existed at all. Although Brazilians had,
throughout the colonial centuries, penetrated into the
heart of the country in their search for gold and gems,

2 Limeira Tejo, Retrato sincero do Brasil (P6rto Alegre: Globo, 1950),
P- »95-

180 Social Change in Latin America Today

establishing towns and even cities there, large pockets of
unknown territory were left behind near the coast. In
1910, hostile Indians were actually making war on Brazil-
ians within two or three hundred kilometers of the main
coastal cities. A tribe, known as the Kiangang, were attack-
ing the construction workers engaged in building the
Northeastern Railroad less than two hundred kilometers
inland from the city of Sao Paulo, in what are today rich
coffee-producing lands. Another tribe made war on Brazil-
ians not far from the city of Vitoria in the Rio Doce
valley, the route to the rich iron deposits of Itabira. Be-
cause of the lack of communications, and because of very
different environments contained in the vast area which is
Brazil, a strong sense of regionalism had developed, each
region preserving its own variety of the national culture.
The strength of regional interests was reflected in Brazil's
economic and political life. It was almost as if there were
several Brazils, but loosely held together as a nation. And,
yet a basic set of Luso-Brazilian traditions and the Portu-
guese language provided a minimum unity for the nation.3
At the turn of the century, Brazil had just recently
abolished two important institutions. In 1888, slavery was
abolished and in 1889, the monarchy was replaced by the
republic. "The ironical thing about the simultaneous dis-
appearance of the two institutions of slavery and mon-
archy," Gilberto Freyre has written, "was that the former
slaves found themselves men and women who had neither
an Emperor nor an autocrat of a 'big house' [mansion]
to protect them, and who in consequence became the
victims of a deep feeling of insecurity. ... It took years
for political leaders to understand the real psychological
and sociological situation of these former slaves, disguised
as free laborers and deprived of patriarchal social assistance
that had been given them in their old age or when they
were sick by the 'big house' or, when that failed to do them
justice, by the Emperor or the Empress, or the im-

3 Charles Wagley, "Regionalism and Cultural Unity in Brazil," Social
Forces, no. 4, 1948, pp. 457-464.

The Brazilian Revolution 181

perial Princes." 4 Thus, the republic, as Freyre points
out, at first fraternalistic, "soon . . . imitated the mon-
archy which it had replaced and became paternalistic." 6
Throughout Brazil a group of "traditional families" sup-
planted royalty and the landed gentry of the empire and
came to dominate the country's economic, political, and
social life. To a large extent, they carried on the paternal-
istic role of the upper class of the empire toward the lower
classes.

Some of these influential families, who formed what I
call the "traditional upper class," were descendants of the
titled nobility of the empire and of the landed gentry.
Other families had gained high position after the establish-
ment of the republic, through newly acquired wealth or
political position. By the early twentieth century, both
these groups of families had fused through intermarriage
into a clearly defined upper class into which admission was
difficult, but, of course, not impossible. Members of the
"traditional upper class" were able to cite the surnames of
those who belonged to it, not only in their own region but
in other parts of the country as well. The genealogies and
family connections of friends were known and recounted.
Membership in one of these large "good families" was often
an indispensable prerequisite to economic, professional,
political, or social success. Although often highly patriotic
and public-spirited, many members of the traditional
upper class suffered from what the talented novelist, Viana
Moog, has described as mozambismo—a. tendency to look
down on or even disdain anything Brazilian and to look
with almost worshipful eyes toward Europe, especially
France. "Politically, in Brazil, with exceptions, he [the
mozambo] tended more toward authoritarian regimes than
democracies. Liberalism in his opinion was all right . . .
for France and for peoples with a high cultural level. But
in Brazil with the crass ignorance of the majority of the

4 "Slavery, Monarchy, and Brazil," Foreign Affairs, July 1955, p. 631.

5 Same, p. 630.

182 Social Change in Latin America Today

population . . . this was not possible." 6 This class valued
a stable and closed society in which their privileges and
special rights were guaranteed. Indeed, the educational
system reflected the aristocratic and European values of
the traditional upper class. Brazil's secondary schools and
universities, patterned after the classical tradition of
France, aimed to train a small elite.

Except perhaps in the extreme south of Brazil with its
numerous European immigrants, a middle class hardly
existed in Brazil during the first decade of this century.
There were professional people, army officers, public offi-
cials, small businessmen in the cities, as well as business-
men, minor white-collar employees, and landowners in
the rural areas, whose level of education and standard of
living seemed to place them in a middle class and who by
family connections were not members of the "traditional
families." Yet, as they so often tend to do today, they
identified themselves with the values of the traditional
upper class. In the cities, they formed, in a sense, a group
marginal to the traditional upper class. In the rural areas
they were a provincial and local upper class. Just as the
traditional upper class was oriented toward Paris, the
provincial upper class in the small towns looked toward
Rio de Janeiro, Bahia, Belem, Recife, or other coastal
cities. Sons of the provincial upper class often came to
these cities to study, mostly to study law, the channel to
political and administrative careers. Sometimes, through
success in business or politics, or through marriage, they
managed to become members of the traditional upper class.

The great majority of Brazilians belonged, of course, to
the lower-class groups. They were largely illiterate and in
one way or another dependent on the traditional upper
class. In the cities, they were the artisans, domestics, and
manual laborers. In the rural zones, they were the workers
in the cane fields and on coffee plantations, the cowboys on
the ranches of the northeast and the open pampa of the

6 Clodomir Viana Moog, Bandeirantes e pioneiros: Paralelo entre duos
culturas (Rio de Janeiro: Editdra Globo, 1955), p. 152.

The Brazilian Revolution 183

south, the rubber collectors in the Amazon valley, share-
croppers on large estates, and frequently squatters on other
people's lands, living by subsistence agriculture. Usually
these people had a patrao, or "boss." The householder was
the patrao (the feminine patroa) of the domestics, the land-
owner the patrao of the sharecropper, and the ranch owner
the patrao of the cowboys. Even in factories and commer-
cial establishments, the workers had a protector, usually
the owner, who was their patrao. Essentially, the patrao-
worker relationship was an economic one, between em-
ployer and employee. It was also highly exploitative, for
payment for the labor of these lower-class groups was
notoriously small. Yet, the patrao-worker relationship was
something more than economic. It involved a sense of
noblesse oblige and paternalism on the part of the em-
ployer toward the worker which had survived out of the
paternalism of slavery and the monarchy. On the part of
the worker, it involved a sense of loyalty to the patrao.

Furthermore, by extension, a patrao was not necessarily
an actual employer. Landholding peasants were often tied
to a patrao storekeeper by debt or past favors, or a wild-
rubber collector to the trader who gave him credit in
merchandise and purchased his rubber. Frequently, the
local political leader, the Cor oriel, or "colonel," served as
a sort of patrao for his followers who had received favors
or who expected future favors. A lower-class worker with-
out a patrao was a man without a protector in time of need.
The patrao provided some measure of social security—
generally the only form available to the worker. Often, the
patrao-worker relationship between lower-class families
and a particular traditional upper-class family endured for
generations. A domestic in the home of such an upper-
class family, for example, might be the daughter or grand-
daughter of a former slave who had been the property of
that family's ancestors. It was an intimate and highly per-
sonal relationship in which each individual, the upper-
class patrao and the lower-class dependent worker, had
close, warm ties with the other and each treated the other

184 Social Change in Latin America Today

as an individual, not as an impersonal member of a mass.
Sometimes, the lower-class individuals, long after they had
left the employment of an upper-class family, still con-
sidered them to be their patroes and returned to seek help
in securing new employment or other favors.

These traditional patrao relationships have persisted in
many relatively isolated parts of Brazil. It is still the basic
form of relationship between people of different social
classes in the rural communities of northern Brazil.7 In
the Amazon valley, the rubber gatherers and small farmers
have as their patrao a trader who provides them with credit
advances and purchases their produce. The freguezes, or
customers, of a particular trader, live on and exploit lands
owned or controlled by the trader. The center of their
social ties is his trading post, or barracao, situated at a
strategic point such as the mouth of a tributary stream.
The people attached to a particular trading post often
form a neighborhood within which there is mutual help
and constant visiting. While such people are regularly in
debt to the trader, they are also tied to him in other ways.
Often the trader and his wife are the compadre and
comadre of the collector and his wife, by becoming god-
parents to their child. As elsewhere in Latin America,
this form of ritual kinship involves a series of mutual
obligations and rights between the two couples. Generally,
the rubber collector owes a series of past favors to his
patrao and compadre. Perhaps the trader may have con-
tinued credit advances in a year when the collector was
ill. Perhaps the trader arranged to send a member of the
collector's family to the nearest source of medical aid on

7 An anthropological study, jointly sponsored by the Department of
Anthropology of Columbia University and the Fundacao para o Desenvoli-
mento da Ciencias of Bahia state, carried out studies of four communities:
one in the arid northeastern region; one in a sugar cane producing
community near the coast; one in the mountainous region where mining
was formerly important; and one in the cocoa area of southern Bahia.
A fifth community study previously undertaken in the Amazon valley
added a great deal to our data. References to these studies will follow.

The Brazilian Revolution 185

the river boat that comes to load rubber and restock the
trading post.

Each fortnight the collectors or small farmers who form
the freguesia or clientele of a trader come to the trading
post to secure new supplies and to pay off some of their
debts with their produce. This day of trading, known as
the quinzena (fifteen days), is equally a day of social inter-
course during which the men drink and the women gossip.
Likewise, on the trader's birthday, on a saint's day, or on
election days, there are social gatherings at the trading
post and the trader may offer a dance. The trader-collector
relationship in the Amazon valley is not an impersonal
economic bond, and, if a customer succeeds in paying off
his debt and takes his produce elsewhere, the trader feels
this as an act of personal disloyalty.8

Likewise, a study of a family-owned sugar plantation in
the Reconcavo area of Bahia has shown that the relations
between owners and workers are social as well as economic.
On this plantation, the owners were clearly members of
the old traditional upper class, and most of the permanent
workers had been born on that or neighboring plantations.
The workers were paid in cash and the relationship be-
tween the owner and his workers was basically that of
employer and employees. At the same time, their relation-
ship was paternalistic, highly personal, intimate, and often
based upon a lifetime of close acquaintance. When the
plantation owner returned from a stay in the city, he came
loaded down with many small purchases requested by his
workers. The workers' wives called on the wife of the
fazendeiro, or plantation owner, upon her return. They
were not asked to sit down, for a rigid barrier of social
class is maintained, but the lady of the house asked after
their children, each of whom she generally knew by name.
They inquired about her relatives who lived in the city or
about her children who had remained at school in the city.
Here, too, the workers were often compadres to their

8 Charles Wagley, Amazon Town: A Study of Man in the Tropics
(New York: Macmillan, 1953), p. 96ff.

186 Social Change in Latin America Today

patrdo and obligated to the patrdo for many past favors.
On his birthday or on Christmas Eve, the patrdo often
provided a festival for the workers on the plantation. Un-
der these patriarchal conditions, it was rare for a worker
to leave a plantation to seek work elsewhere.9

Similarly, the vaqueiro, or cowboy, on a northeastern
cattle ranch stood in a traditional patrdo relationship to
the ranch owner, but it was a less intimate one, for the
owner often lived far away in the city, visiting the ranch
only on the occasion of the division of the herd. As our
recent anthropological studies show, the relationship still
survives, as described at the turn of the century by Euclydes
da Cunha in his classic study of the northeastern sertdo:

Like the landed proprietor of colonial days, he [the ranch
owner] parasitically enjoys the revenues from vast domains
without fixed boundaries, and the cowboys are his submissive
servants. As a result of a contract in accordance with which
they receive a certain percentage of what is produced, they
remain attached to the same plot of ground. . . . They spend
their entire lives in faithfully caring for herds that do not be-
long to them. Their real employer, an absentee one, well
knows how loyal they are and does not oversee them; at best,
he barely knows their names.10

Marvin Harris observed: "One of the most recurrent
themes for businessmen, miners, farmers and artisans alike
is the plaintive search for the 'boss' (patrdo)— the fatherlike
figure who gives people work, provides them with raw
materials, lends them money, and buys their products
before they are produced." u

Throughout Brazil, analogous patrdo relationships ex-
isted in the past, and still survive in many localities. Un-

9 Harry W. Hutchinson, Village and Plantation Life in Northeastern
Brazil (Seattle: University of Washington Press, for the American Ethno-
logical Society, 1957), pp. 57-62.

10 Rebellion in the Backlands, tr. by Samuel Putnam (University of
Chicago Press, 1944), pp. 95-96. Also, Ben Zimmerman, Montesserat: A
Sertdo Community, in ms.

11 Town and Country in Brazil (New York: Columbia University Press,
1956), P- 57-

The Brazilian Revolution 187

like Indians of the highland countries of Central and
South America, whose corporate and landholding com-
munities offered them some measure of security, the Bra-
zilian rural lower class had no close-knit community to
turn to for support. Small neighborhoods within Brazilian
communities were often strongly united by kinship among
the residents, the custom of mutual aid, and even depend-
ence upon the same patrao. But most observers agree that
the rural community itself is amorphous, weakly organized,
and split by class alliances. As T. Lynn Smith has put it:

In Brazil, as in the plantation South of the United States,
there is a great difference in the locality-group attachments
of the upper landowning class and the families who live and
work on the estates. The former have contacts with and at-
tachments outside the neighborhood and local community. . . .
The latter are likely to live in a world whose horizons end with
the neighboring fazendas or the nearby village or town.12

Since the upper landowning class supplies the local
leadership, the lower class often is almost without leader-
ship of its own. Even more in the past than at present,
upper-class people have felt a closer affiliation with their
upper-class associates in the cities than with the lower-class
members of their local community. Lacking the support
that might otherwise have been supplied by a strong local
structure, the Brazilian lower classes have depended even
more upon a patrao— a. planter, a trader, a commercial man,
or a politician— for some measure of security in their
difficult world.13

12 Brazil: People and Institutions (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State
University Press, 1954), p. 522.

13 I have purposely omitted the subject of the racial composition of
the Brazilian classes and I have also omitted the subject of the effect of
the Brazilian revolution on race relations and the changing racial com-
position of the socio-economic classes. This aspect of Brazil has been rather
intensively treated in recent years in such studies as O negro no Rio de
Janeiro, Biblioteca Pedag6gica Brasileira, Serie 5, Brasiliana, 276 (Sao
Paulo: Editora Nacional, 1953), by L. A. Costa Pinto; Les elites de couleur
dans une ville brisilienne (Paris: UNESCO, 1953), by Thales de Azevedo;
Relacoes raciais entre negros e brancos em Sao Paulo (Sao Paulo: Edit6ra

188 Social Change in Latin America Today

The Brazilian Revolution

During the first decades of this century, these isolated,
semifeudal, and stable societies of the early republic began
to be transformed slowly and almost imperceptibly into
something quite different. Then, during the regime of
Getulio Vargas, between 1930 and 1945, and especially
since the end of World War II, many changes that had
only cast their shadows before have come to be felt with
greater intensity. At present, Brazil is in a frenzy of con-
tinuous crisis as the traditional gives way to a new type
of society. This revolution has been felt with varying
degrees of intensity in different regions. In many rural
zones, in northern Brazil especially, the traditional patterns
still largely dominate the way of life. Even near some of
the large cities of the north, there are isolated areas as yet
little influenced by the new trends. In the central and
southern states— Rio de Janeiro, Minas Gerais, Sao Paulo,
Parana, Santa Catarina, and Rio Grande do Sul— these
new trends have been felt more sharply. There one can
see emerging the outlines of a new Brazilian society.

What are the forces and changes that are bringing about
this profound reshaping of Brazilian society? To discuss
them in any detail would require an intricate analysis of
the history of Brazil, especially since about 1930. However,
even a brief review of some of the interrelated develop-
ments that have set off this Brazilian revolution will help
to make clear the drastic changes which have swept the
Brazilian people from their traditional moorings.

Anhembi, for UNESCO, 1955), edited by Roger Bastide and Florestan
Fernandes; and Race and Class in Rural Brazil (Paris: UNESCO, 1952),
edited by Charles Wagley. It is enough to say here that broadly the tra-
ditional upper class was white and the lower-class groups were Negroes,
mulattoes, or mixed (American Indian with Negro or white). In accord-
ance with Brazil's traditional tolerance in regard to race, the new social
classes are far from racially homogeneous.

The Brazilian Revolution 189

POPULATION GROWTH AND THE NEW CITIES

Brazil's total population has more than tripled since
1900. As compared with only some 17,318,000 Brazilians
in 1900, there were 30,635,605 in 1920; 41,565,000 in
1940; 52,645,000 in 1950; and an estimated 67,200,000 in
i960.14 Brazil has one of the most rapidly growing popu-
lations in the modern world. Immigration is only a sec-
ondary cause of the estimated net increase of over 1,320,000
people each year. In terms of population, there is no doubt
that Brazil will become one of the major nations of the
world.

While Brazil is still predominantly a nation of villages
and hamlets, its cities have been growing much faster than
the rural areas. According to the criteria used by the Bra-
zilian census of 1950, only 36.5 per cent of the population,
or a total of 19,197,686 people, were urban.15 But totals
tell only a part of the story. In 1900 the city of Sao Paulo
had about 240,000 inhabitants; by 1950, 2,198,000 inhabit-
ants; and in 1957 over 3,230,000. Rio de Janeiro, which had
approximately 500,000 in 1900, had reached 2,377,500 in
1950, and was close to three million in 1957. Other cities
have been growing at great speed, and by 1 950 there were
twelve other centers with more than 100,000 people, in-
cluding Belo Horizonte (352,700 in 1950; an estimated
514,200 in 1957), Porto Alegre (394,150 in 1950 and
522,700 in 1957), and Recife (524,700 in 1950 and over
718,600 in 1957).16

The rapid growth of the cities has created a serious
crisis. Urban systems of water supply, electric power,

14 Unless otherwise noted, statistics have been taken from official
Brazilian and U.S. sources; i960 estimate, Brazilian Embassy (Washington),
Survey of the Brazilian Economy ipf8 (Washington: Author, November
1958), p. 4.

15 T. Lynn Smith reduces this figure by some 2,784,762 people through
subtracting from the "urban" category the "urban" population of some
3,198 places of less than 2,000 inhabitants. (See Brazil: People and Institu-
tions, cited, p. 166.)

16 Brazil, Ministry of External Relations, Brasil (Rio de Janeiro: Author,
June 1958), p. 5.

190 Social Change in Latin America Today

sewerage, and transportation, hardly adequate in 1920 and
1930, have been suddenly outpaced by populations that
have expanded to several times their previous size. No
matter how fast such facilities are expanded, and they have
not expanded fast enough, they never seem to catch up
with the growing urban population. A further result of this
turbulent exodus from the rural areas to the cities has been
to accentuate the already strong contrast between rural
and urban conditions of life. In the cities a large propor-
tion of the people participate in the modern world by
means of the radio and television, cinema, magazines, and
newspapers. In the isolation of rural life such things are
a part of a distant and strange world. The contrast between
the two worlds in turn reinforces the attraction of the
cities as people realize that only there can modern con-
veniences and amusements be acquired.

INTERNAL MIGRATION AND IMMIGRATION FROM ABROAD

In addition to the rural influx into the cities, there have
been important migrations between different parts of the
country. In the first decade of this century, many villagers
migrated from the arid northeast to the Amazon valley.
Then, with the collapse of rubber-collecting along the
Amazon, the current shifted to Sao Paulo, where coffee-
planting offered new employment. Later, southern Mato
Grosso and Goias attracted many settlers, not only from
the northeast but from Minas Gerais and even Sao Paulo.
From 1900 to 1939, at least one million Brazilians, mostly
from the northeastern states, which are often drought-
stricken, came to work on plantations and farms in Sao
Paulo state. This migration, both to the rural areas and
to the capital of Sao Paulo, continues even today at the
rate of over 100,000 people per year. And the migration
from Sao Paulo to the south and into the west pushes ahead
even more strongly. More recently, northern Parana has
become the mecca whither thousands flock each year to
seek work or buy rich lands. Between 1940 and 1950, the
number of people born in other states but living in Parana

The Brazilian Revolution 191

increased from 214,256 to 661,456, and in Goias from
155,480 to 281,364— indicating a strong westward move-
ment.

Migrants from the north come crowded into trucks
carrying thirty, forty, and even fifty people over dusty and
bumpy roads for more than a thousand miles. Many come
by train through Minas Gerais and into Sao Paulo state.
Although most of them are males hoping to send home
funds and perhaps to accumulate enough money to go
home, a surprisingly large proportion consists of entire
families. From 1935 to 1939, for example, over 75 per
cent of the migrants who lodged at the Hospedaria de
Imigrantes, or immigrant station, maintained in the city
of Sao Paulo, journeyed as members of families— and these
families average five persons.17 As Smith describes it, "the
current migrations to Sao Paulo are more reminiscent of
the flight from the 'dust bowl' toward the West, or the
expulsion of the Mormons from the Middle West than to
any other chapters in the history of migration in the
United States." 18 This migratory movement, as well as
providing laborers for the cities has changed the social
scene in the rural areas of Sao Paulo and other central
states.

Although the great bulk of the population expansion
results from the excess of births over deaths, Brazil has
received over 4,000,000 immigrants from abroad since
1900. The presence of this relatively large mass of people
who did not share in the values of traditional Brazil has
been an important influence upon the development of the
country and a factor in the Brazilian revolution.

During the nineteenth century, colonies of Italians and
Germans were established in the hope of forming the
nucleus of a group of small farmers engaged in diversified
agriculture and thus overcoming the predominant planta-
tion monoculture of the country. But only after the abo-
lition of slavery, when the state of Sao Paulo set up a

17 Smith, cited, p. 278.

18 Same.

192 Social Change in Latin America Today

method of systematic recruitment and subsidization for
immigrants, did the mass of European immigrants come to
Brazil. Even then, compared to the same period in the
United States and Canada, the number who immigrated
to Brazil was small. The six countries that contributed
most in numbers have been, in order: Italy, Portugal,
Spain, Japan, Germany, and Poland. Relatively few in
number, but important in their economic and social im-
pact upon Brazil, have been the "Turcos," as they are
called in Brazil; actually, they are Arabs from Syria and
Lebanon.

The majority of these immigrants from abroad first
settled in the rural areas, mainly in Sao Paulo and the
southern states. But lately, their descendants, too, have
flocked to the cities. In recent years— except for the Portu-
guese who may enter almost at will— immigration has
tapered off as the Brazilian government imposed a quota
system. From 1944 to 1957, only 570,674 immigrants
entered Brazil; of these, 228,933 were Portuguese.19

COMMUNICATIONS

Brazil still suffers from the lack of communications
among its various regions. In early 1957 there were only
37,000 kilometers of railroads and 467,500 kilometers of
motor roads. The various railroad systems run on five
different gauges and they lack easy interconnections. Many
of the motor roads are so poor that they are impassable for
a part of the year, and by far the largest part of the road
system consists of local or county roads. Even so, in the
last decades there has been a "revolution" in the Brazilian
communications system. Most cities and towns today are
connected by telegraph or radio. Road-building proceeds
apace, and today there is an excellent highway between the
two metropolitan centers of Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo.

19 Brazil, Conselho Nacional de Estatistica, Instituto Brasileiro de
Geografia e Estatistica, Annudrio Estatistico do Brasil (Rio de Janeiro:
Author, 1957), pp. 53-54; data for 1957, Banco do Brasil, Relatorio 195J
(N. p.: Author, March 1958), pt. 3, p. 45.

The Brazilian Revolution 193

The Via Anchieta between Sao Paulo and its port city,
Santos, is considered a masterpiece of modern engineering.
It is possible to travel by road from Rio de Janeiro to all
of the southern states, to the rich central states of Minas
Gerais and Goids, and through Bahia into the northeastern
states. These roads have allowed the penetration of trucks
—one of the main carriers of modern Brazil— to the hinter-
land. Today, trucks not only carry merchandise from the
hinterland to the city and return, but also provide local
transportation for freight and passengers between towns in
the back country.

More remarkable, Brazil seems to have jumped from the
age of the ox cart to the age of the air. In this vast country,
air travel has become not just a convenience but a neces-
sity. In 1938, Brazilians were already flying 41,504,000
passenger kilometers per year, and by 1957 this number
had risen to 2,289,492,000. In 1957, over 89,000,000 tons
of cargo were transported by air, and the total was
probably larger since there were many unchartered (and
uncounted) flights. Brazil is perhaps one of the most air-
minded countries in the world— many little towns have
their own "Air Club," and young Brazilians who have
never driven an automobile have "soloed" in the air. On
a map, Brazilian-owned and operated airlines look like a
spiderweb as they connect not only the cities of the coast
and capitals, but also the smaller cities and towns of the
interior. It is no longer a trip of two weeks or more from
Rio de Janeiro to Belem by coastal steamer, but a flight
of only several hours.

INDUSTRIALIZATION AND AGRICULTURE

Although Brazil is still predominantly an agricultural
nation, there has been a marked upsurge of industry,
particularly during the last fifteen years. The last ten years
have seen the country break away from a heavy dependence
upon the outside world for manufactured articles and
begin to manufacture most of its own needs. Now pro-
ducing a large percentage of its own consumer goods,

194 Social Change in Latin America Today

Brazil adequately supplies its own needs of clothes, shoes,
glassware, pharmaceutical supplies, canned foods, and other
necessities. Other industries are rapidly expanding. For
example, the first cement plant was built in 1926; by 1957
domestic production had reached 3,376,000 metric tons,
and Brazil had become self-sufficient in cement.

Automobiles have been assembled in Brazil largely from
imported parts since the 1920's. In the early 1950's, the
government took a series of steps to increase the use of
domestically produced parts, with the aim of giving Brazil
its own automotive industry. A 1952 ban on imports of
parts obtainable in Brazil and a 1953 regulation virtually
prohibiting imports of finished vehicles were major steps
in this process. An industry-government group was formed
to encourage domestic vehicle output. Pressure plus incen-
tives have encouraged firms to expand the manufacture of
vehicles in Brazil. Subsidiary industries supplying com-
ponent parts have been stimulated. Under an elaborate
plan, imports of parts are to decline in relation to the
production of vehicles until by mid- 1960 90 per cent (by
weight) of all parts used in Brazilian vehicles are to be
domestically produced. By 1958 there were some 1,200
automobile parts factories, of which 1 50 were of substantial
size. Subsidiaries of sixteen motor companies— American,
English, French, Italian, German, and Japanese— were in
operation or had their projects approved by the govern-
ment. Output of vehicles of all types increased from 6,000
in 1956 to 30,700 in 1957 and an estimated 61,000 in 1958.
The official goal for i960 is 170,000 vehicles; the industry
hopes to do still better and aims at a total output of
210,000.

The most impressive part of Brazilian industrialization
has been the progress in two fundamental sectors: steel
and hydroelectric power. The great Volta Redonda plant
alone, which first went into production in 1946, was pro-
ducing over 800,000 tons of steel ingots in 1957, about half
the national output. By i960 it was expected to produce
over 1,000,000 tons, and the goal of the entire steel indus-

The Brazilian Revolution 195

try was 2,300,000 tons in i960, and 3,500,000 tons in
1965.20 Brazil's hydroelectric potential is one of the highest
in the world, but until recently its power development
lagged behind its industrial growth. In 1939 hydroelectric
capacity was 888,600 kilowatts; ten years later it was 1.4
million and, by the end of 1957, 2.7 million. Because power
shortages have been a severe handicap to industrial expan-
sion, electrical development has held a major place in the
government's Economic Development Plan, which calls for
a total expenditure— federal, state, and private— of Cr$83
billion between 1957 and 1966; the goal is a generating
capacity of 8 million kw. by the end of 1965. By early 1957
the Paulo Alfonso station in northeast Brazil and the
Peixoto project in Minas Gerais were in full operation,
supplying 200,000 kw.; the state of Sao Paulo had made
plans for a program which would add 434,000 kw. to its
power capacity; the upper reaches of the Sao Francisco
River had been selected as the site for the Tres Marias
Dam, with a capacity of 480,000 kw. The most ambitious
project has been the Furnas Dam on the Rio Grande in
south central Brazil; it will be the largest of nineteen dams
to be built on the river. With an ultimate capacity of 7.5
million kw., this complex of dams and reservoirs will
supply power to the most industrialized part of the coun-
try. The first stages of construction are being financed by
a World Bank loan of $73 million, extended in 1958.

Compared to that of the most industrialized countries
of Western Europe and the United States, Brazilian indus-
try is still in an infant stage, but there are clear signs that
a tremendous transformation of the basic economy is just
beginning. Perhaps as a harbinger of this transformation,
foreign investments are flowing into the country at a vol-
ume that is increasing rapidly. According to the Brazilian
Ministry of External Affairs, the inflow of direct foreign
investment rose from $51.3 million in 1955 to $55.7
million in 1956 and over $108 million in 1957. Roughly

20 Survey of the Brazilian Economy 1958, cited, pp. 22, 24.

196 Social Change in Latin America Today

two-thirds of this went into basic industry, according to
the ministry's classification. Although the total value of
foreign direct investments is not known, it is estimated at
over $3 billion. Of this, U.S. investments were $1.3 billion
at the end of 1957, half in manufacturing enterprises and
the remainder in petroleum marketing, public utilities,
trade, and mining. Brazil has been able to draw private
and public capital from a number of other sources, in-
cluding Canada, Germany, France, the United Kingdom,
Italy, and the World Bank.

There has been a considerable increase in the production
of basic food products in Brazil during the last two dec-
ades. The annual production of rice, for example, increased
from 1,484,514 tons in 1939 to 4,076,273 tons in 1957;
beans increased during the same period from 789,722 tons
to 1,685,091; and cane sugar from 19,987,772 tons to
46,576,491 tons. It would seem at first glance, then, that
agriculture has developed as rapidly as industry, but this
is far from the actual picture. Instead, there is a crisis in
foodstuffs. Production has not kept up with the mush-
rooming population and with the expanding purchasing
power of large segments of the population.

The production of wheat illustrates well the changing
pattern of food consumption. For many years Brazil has
imported wheat, but, in recent years, as the consumption
of flour increased, foreign wheat has been a heavy drain on
the supply of foreign exchange. To counteract this drain,
the government has made serious attempts to restore the
country's once relatively large wheat production, particu-
larly in the southernmost state of Rio Grande do Sul, by
extension and research work and by a price-support pro-
gram. Between 1939 and 1957 national wheat production
increased from 101,000 tons to 1,199,000 tons. By 1957
the acreage in wheat was six times larger than in 1939,
and the average yield per acre had doubled. In spite of the
growth in output, however, wheat and flour imports have
increased; in 1939 they amounted to 1,012,000 tons and in
1957 to 1,474,000 tons. The only agricultural products

The Brazilian Revolution 197

imported to any significant extent, wheat and flour, are a
continuing drain on Brazil's foreign exchange. An agree-
ment with the United States in 1956 provided for the
purchase of 1,800,000 tons of surplus wheat over a three-
year period, payments to be made in cruzeiros over forty
years. The U.S. government is using some of these cruzeiros
to meet its expenses in Brazil, but, if it follows its practice
in other countries, it may lend a large part of them to
Brazil for use in economic development projects, among
them the expansion of Brazilian wheat production.

The increasing demand for wheat reflects not only a
growing population but also a change in food habits. In
the past manioc flour has been more important to most
Brazilians than bread. Bread is a food of the towns and
cities, manioc the food of the countryside. As the cities
grow, as people increase their incomes, and as they acquire
new city ways, they change their food habits. Even so,
production of manioc has been increased rather steadily,
from 6.7 million tons in 1939 to 15.8 million tons in
1957. There is now a shortage of other foods, however.
The production of dairy products, vegetables, and even
fruit has not grown fast enough to keep up with increasing
population, rapid urbanization, and higher purchasing
power.

The agricultural problem is further complicated by the
failure of commercial agriculture, which produces mainly
for export, to expand its total output in the last twenty
years. From prewar years to 1957 the production of coffee,
Brazil's prime export, has hardly increased, while the pro-
duction of cotton, another important commercial crop,
declined. Troubled by fluctuations in world prices, Brazil-
ian commercial agriculture is also technologically back-
ward. Gradually, though, giant usinas, or sugar mills,
surrounded by corporation-owned sugar plantations with
thousands of workers, have begun to appear, as well as
extensive coffee plantations with numerous workers. These
"factories-in-the-field," though they are few in number,
must be counted as part of the Brazilian revolution, for

198 Social Change in Latin America Today

they represent a markedly different kind of agricultural
enterprise from the family-owned plantations and ranches
of traditional Brazil.

RISING INCOME AND INFLATION

It would take a skilled economist and better data than
now exist to trace the tenuous balance between the spiral-
ing inflation in Brazil and the rising incomes of the various
segments of the population. As Brazilians increase their
incomes, they are repeatedly robbed by inflation and by
the constant rise in the cost of living. Still, most observers
agree that in some degree the purchasing power of the
Brazilian public has been increasing. Each year a larger
number of people enter the national market, and the large
mass of people who make up the "economic zeros" of pur-
chasing power seems to diminish.

There are no cost-of-living data on a nation-wide basis,
but some indication of the inflationary trend can be seen
in the index of consumer prices in Sao Paulo. There the
cost of living in early 1958 was nearly fifteen times greater
than in 1939. Inflation, however, is no stranger to the
Brazilian economy. An average yearly rise of 18 per cent
in the cost of living from 1950 to 1957 came on top of a
spiraling of prices in the late 1930's and the war years.
Since the war the requirements of a developing economy
have meant that the price level has outdistanced the supply
of goods and services, and in an effort to protect living
standards the government has had to yield on such anti-
inflationary measures as wage stabilization. In 1956 and
again at the end of 1958 it set higher minimum wage
standards; for the unskilled worker the monthly base wage
was set first at 3,800 cruzeiros and then at 6,000. (In terms
of U.S. dollars, the increase became a decrease, from $60
to $43.) Yet the important fact remains that a minimum
wage even exists and that salaries in government and indus-
try are considerably above this figure. Furthermore, the
government has made a faltering but valiant effort to
control prices. Most observers would agree that wages have

The Brazilian Revolution 199

pulled themselves somewhat above the cost of living. The
latter has risen from an index of 100 in 1953 to 206 in
1957 while average monthly industrial wages in the Federal
District have in the same period gone from 100 to 275.

Nevertheless, relentless inflation continues to haunt
prosperity and economic development, with its varying
impact on different segments of the population. Industrial
labor and the mass of government employees have been
granted increases in wages only to see them wiped out,
entirely or in part, by higher prices. The "middle-class"
white-collar workers and professionals suffer as the de-
valuation of the currency and the rising cost of living out-
distance their more slowly rising incomes. The owners of
capital tend to invest in urban real estate. As a result of
the enormous building boom, created both by the housing
shortage in the burgeoning cities and by the desire to invest
in real estate, great fortunes have been made on paper in
real estate.

The Brazilian government's development program has
meant expanded credits to industry for projects which will
not always provide income in the near future. Its agri-
cultural policy has involved it in a program of bolstering
domestic production and living standards of producers
through buying up unexportable farm surpluses. The
ambitious power and transport goals of its economic plan
have turned the government into a large-scale producer
and investor. The result has been that the government's
expenditures regularly exceed its revenue, and the differ-
ence is made up by printing more money. Labor unrest
and the demands of business firms have made it difficult
to enforce wage and price stabilization measures. Attempts
to institute an austere tax program have been handicapped
by the maneuvering of political groups. While Brazil, with
large mineral deposits, rich agricultural lands, and enor-
mous power potential, has many investment opportunities,
foreign capital is faced with uncertainties arising from the
government's import and exchange controls, recurrent
threats to the repatriation of profits and capital, and re-

200 Social Change in Latin America Today

strictive legislation with respect to the exploitation of
mineral resources.

The efforts to industrialize have increased the pressure
for imports but have not yet brought about an expansion
of exports. Whereas a trade surplus was the rule in Brazil
until the postwar period, in eight of the eleven years after
1947 there were ever-growing deficits which had to be
covered by foreign credits. Imports, especially machinery
and petroleum, are essential if the development program is
to succeed, but to pay for these vital imports Brazil is
largely dependent on the export of a few major products
—coffee, lumber, sugar and cocoa head the list— whose
prices in the world market fluctuate more widely than
prices of the products which must be imported. In petro-
leum, for example, Brazil has increased its own production
and refining operations, so that in the space of ten years
domestic needs, instead of being met almost entirely by
imports, were in 1957 supplied in part (nearly 15 per cent)
by domestic production. However, consumption has in-
creased so rapidly in postwar years that the cost of petro-
leum imports in the mid- 1 950^ amounted to between 15
and 20 per cent of the total import bill.

Historically, coffee has been the mainstay of Brazilian
trade. Earnings from its sale abroad have equaled or
exceeded all other export earnings, but the prospects for
the future of coffee— and of the other traditional exports,
cotton and cocoa— are not good. Producers are faced with
severe international competition and plagued by recurrent
price declines. Coffee and cocoa exports have not increased
in volume since 1 946, and cotton shipments have declined.
Sugar, an unimportant trade item before the war, has come
to have a significant place in exports of foodstuffs, but the
main hopes for a long-run improvement in the trade
balance lie in the expansion of production of minerals,
fats and oils, timber, meat, and industrial products. In
the latter field Brazil is already building up export markets,
chiefly in Latin America, for its processed foods, textiles,
chemical and pharmaceutical products, and vehicle parts.

The Brazilian Revolution 201

Mineral exports, especially manganese and iron ore, may
some day replace agricultural products as major earners
of foreign exchange.

EDUCATION

Despite the fact that in 1950 more than half of the
total population was still classed as illiterate, it would
seem on the surface that Brazil has undergone nothing
short of a major revolution in its educational system during
the last two decades or so. The progress in providing
educational facilities and in spreading education has been
magnificent. In 1933, only 27,770 primary schools claimed
matriculation of 2,107,619. In contrast, in 1957 the record
shows 80,178 primary schools with an enrollment of more
than 5,400,000 pupils. The record scored by secondary
education is even more remarkable. In 1933, only 417
schools offering regular academic secondary education
could be found in all of Brazil, and only 66,420 students
regularly studied in them.21 By 1954, in contrast, 535,775
pupils were attending almost 2,000 secondary schools.
Thus, almost five times as many secondary schools could
be counted, with over eight times as many students attend-
ing them. The program in higher education has been
equally striking. In 1930, opportunities for higher edu-
cation were found in a small number of isolated faculties,
mainly of law, medicine, pharmacy, engineering, and the
like. As late as 1940, there were only slightly more than
20,000 students registered in courses of higher education
in all of Brazil. By 1957, there were nineteen organized
universities in Brazil and numerous faculties, schools, insti-
tutes, and programs offering advanced education in law,
engineering, medicine, pharmacy, nursing, dentistry, music,
social work, industrial chemistry, architecture, library
science and numerous other specialized fields. Almost the
full range of technical, scientific, humanistic, academic,

21 Included are both levels of secondary schools: Ginasio, or "middle
school," equivalent roughly to junior high school in the United States,
and Colegio, roughly equivalent to the senior high school.

202 Social Change in Latin America Today

and professional schools found in the United States are
present nowadays in Brazil. In 1957 the number of students
registered in Brazilian universities and other institutions
of higher education exceeded 75,000.

Yet, such progress in education must be set against the
rapid population growth in the last three decades and
against the exceedingly low "baseline" situation of Bra-
zilian education in the 1 o^o's. Brazil has not yet overcome
these disadvantages and the educational system still acts
as a drag on the formation of the new Brazilian society.
The educational system does not meet the needs and the
demands of the Brazilian population. The educational phi-
losophy and pedagogical methods inherited from the past
are still aimed at educating an elite. Even in 1958, less
than half of the population of elementary school age was
attending school, according to a survey of a Brazilian gov-
ernment educational office.22 The economically backward
northern states suffer most from lack of educational facili-
ties. Despite strong efforts to extend education to rural
zones everywhere, as late as 1950 there were 2,026,235
children enrolled in elementary schools in urban districts,
compared to only 1,872,388 in rural districts, although only
36 per cent of the total population was classified as "ur-
ban." Many rural schools provide only one or two grades
rather than the regular four-year primary sequence, and
distances are so great and transportation so difficult that
attendance in rural schools is very low. Yet, even city
schools are terribly overcrowded; in Rio de Janeiro and
Sao Paulo, for example, multiple sessions— sometimes three
and four— are necessary in primary schools.

Some of this crowding results from the rigid pedagogical
system. Theoretically standards are exceedingly high, but
teaching is often unskilled. Many pupils come from illiter-
ate backgrounds and cannot count on their families to
help them with their studies. Rules of promotion to the
next grade are strictly applied beginning with the first

22 Bulletin de CAPES (Companha para Aperfeicoamento Pessoal de
Nivel Superior), no. 73 (December 1958), pp. 7-8.

The Brazilian Revolution 203

grade, and a very large percentage of children in each
grade fail. In 1958, 52.3 per cent of all elementary school
children were in the first grade, 22.1 per cent in the second
grade, 15.5 per cent in the third grade, and only 1.3 per
cent in the fourth grade. Only a small percentage of chil-
dren entering elementary school finish the fourth grade
which, after an entrance examination, prepares them to
enter a secondary school. Furthermore, "repeaters" in the
lower grades block the entry of the seven-year olds into
the already crowded schools and are a heavy drain on
educational budgets. It has been estimated, for example,
that, in 1957, of some 1,200,000 students in the elementary
schools of Sao Paulo state about 300,000 failed to pass their
grade and were made to repeat it. This is said to have cost
the state about 0^750 million and to have blocked the
entry of 100,000 new students into the first grade.23

Desp:te the small number of children who finish the
four-year elementary schools, there is a tremendous de-
mand for secondary education in Brazil today. It has been
estimated that in 1954 only 6 per cent of the population
between twelve and eighteen years of age were in secondary
schools.24 Yet, the secondary schools again work as a "filter"
eliminating the majority of students from further edu-
cation. The secondary curriculum is based fundamentally
on the French lycee system and is aimed primarily at train-
ing an elite. Many students fail by the wayside. Thus, in
1954, while there were 168,009 students enrolled in the
first year of the Gindsio (middle school), there were only
18,1 15 enrolled in the last year of the Colegio (senior high
school).25 Only about one-third of the secondary schools
offer the Colegio course and furthermore the vast majority
of all secondary schools are private. Although the govern-
ment offers scholarships and subsidies to support secondary
education, cost is a barrier for the great majority of Bra-

23 Same, p. 10.

24 Jaime Abreu, A educacao secundaria no Brasil (Rio de Janeiro:
CAPES, 1955).

25 Same, p. 10.

204 Social Change in Latin America Today

zilians. In addition, the problem of location deprives many
potential students of the opportunity to attend a secondary
school. In 1955, well over 50 per cent of all secondary
schools were located in Minas Gerais, Rio de Janeiro state,
Sao Paulo state, and the former Federal District (now
renamed the state of Guanabara)— that is, in the most
urbanized regions of the country. Even there, most second-
ary schools were located in big cities and towns. The rural
population generally does not have access to secondary
education.

The situation in higher education presents another Bra-
zilian paradox. There seems to be an overwhelming de-
mand for admission to schools of higher education and
the facilities have expanded enormously. Yet, this demand
seems to be selective; while there are many more candidates
than places, there seem to be fewer candidates able to pass
the entrance examinations than most schools of higher
education could admit. The largest number of candidates
for admission are still in law, medicine, engineering, and
other traditional professions. Fewer candidates seek ad-
mission to nursing, agronomy, veterinary sciences, public
administration, and other newer fields. A survey carried
out in 1957 of 358 schools and faculties of higher education
showed that there were 7,883 candidates for admission to
eighteen medical schools which had but 1,175 places for
first-year students. Yet, only 1,015 of these candidates passed
the entrance requirements. The situation is similar in
engineering. Even in the faculties of philosophy which
prepare secondary-school teachers, there were twice as
many candidates as places to be filled; yet only about one-
third of the candidates passed the entrance requirements.
Schools of nursing and agronomy were not filled to their
capacity.26 Obviously, the entrance examinations to uni-
versities and technical schools are so administered as to
cut down the huge number of candidates to fit the number
of students they can receive; it is also clear that, despite

26 Bulletin de CAPES, no. 60 (November 1957), pp. 11.

The Brazilian Revolution 205

the high level of their curriculum, the secondary schools
do not prepare students to carry on university work.

There is a veritable rash of expansion of institutions of
higher education in Brazil. Between 1955 and 1959 at least
one hundred faculties of philosophy (liberal arts colleges)
have been established throughout Brazil. Each month
brings announcements of the formation of new faculties of
law, dentistry, pharmacy, and the like, as well as of ex-
panded facilities in already established schools. Brazil
sorely needs professionals, technicians, and teachers. The
greater opportunity for higher education in modern Brazil
is a far cry from that in the isolated Brazil of the beginning
of this century. Nevertheless, the educational system is still
oriented toward the training of a relatively small elite and
is thus out of step with the needs of a changing Brazilian
society.

MASS MEDIA

Another important feature of contemporary Brazil, at
once a result and a cause of the Brazilian revolution, is the
rapid development of mass media during the last two or
three decades. The dates of the founding of periodicals
(including newspapers and magazines) show the rapid ex-
pansion of the use of the printing press over the past
thirty years. Between 1900 and 1910, only 92 new periodi-
cals appeared. Between 1910 and 1919, 146 new periodicals
were founded. Between 1920 and 1929, 263 appeared; from
1930 to 1939, there were 546 new periodicals, and 853
from 1940 to 1949; and finally, in the four-year period
1950-1954, another 953 were established. The 261 daily
newspapers issued in 1954 had a total circulation of only
3,351,762, which is small compared to that of West Eu-
ropean countries. Yet, today Brazil supports newspaper
chains such as the Diarios Associados, which has dailies in
several large cities. The voice of the press is now important
in forming public opinion.

Other forms of mass media have spread rapidly. In 1930,
there were only sixteen radio stations; by 1948 over two

2o6 Social Change in Latin America Today

hundred were functioning. Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo
are now served by television stations. In 1954, there were
3,142 Casas de Espetdculos (mostly cinemas), and these had
1,747,767 seats. In the same year, 3,721 films were ex-
amined by the censorship.27 Of them, 1,751 were produced
in the United States, although among "feature films"
shown an even larger proportion were of North American
origin.

Publishing is still weakly developed, when compared to
many other countries, and Brazilians complain that sales
of ten to fifteen thousand copies of a popular book are
insignificant compared with those of "best sellers" in the
United States. Just the same, new publishing houses appear
each year and the traditional companies thrive. Many out-
standing Brazilian writers of fiction have appeared in the
last thirty years— Jose Lins do Rego, Erico Verrissimo,
Jorge Amado, Viana Moog and others— and their work
has come to be widely read at home and abroad. North
American and European fiction is widely published in
Portuguese translation. Unlike the past, when a well-
known writer could say that "Portuguese is the tomb of
thought," and when the reading public of Brazil depended
upon European books, today Brazilian writers have a wide
and interested audience and are important in forming the
new Brazilian values.

POLITICS

The current political situation of Brazil is more a reflec-
tion than a cause of the Brazilian revolution. A few changes
in the electorate and system of politics will bear out this
observation. For one thing, there has been a tremendous
expansion in the electorate, despite the automatic dis-
qualification of the more than one-half of Brazilians who
fail the literacy requirement. It has expanded despite the
fact that those who came of age during the Vargas dicta-
torship, between 1933 and 1945, when voting was sus-

2TA11 films are censored for the purpose of grading them according
to their propriety for the ages of the viewers.

The Brazilian Revolution 207

pended, had never voted until the elections of 1945. For
the National Constitutional Assembly in 1933, 1,466,700
people voted; for legislation in 1934, 2,659,171; for presi-
dent and state legislatures in 1945, 7,459,848; for president
and legislative offices in 1950, 7,459,432; and for state
and legislative offices in 1954, 15,104,604. The proportion
of Brazilians participating in elections, and thus their
political awareness, have obviously grown much more
rapidly than the population itself.

In the second place, there has been a remarkable de-
velopment of political parties and of modern techniques
of political campaigning. Although even today political
parties tend to be regional in their scope and interests,
there are several important national parties— the Uniao
Democratica Nacional (Democratic National Union), the
Partido Trabalhista Brasileiro (Brazilian Labor party),
Partido Social Democratico (Social Democratic party), as
well as the National Socialist party and the Communist
party (presently illegal but obviously still active). Only
with the 1945 elections did anything resembling truly
national political parties appear.

With the lack of transportation and communications
and because of the highly charged regional interests, it was
almost impossible to organize political campaigns on a na-
tional basis before 1930. The political scene was marked by
a multitude of local parties in almost each state, and the
balance of power seemed to be determined by local parties
in Sao Paulo and Minas Gerais states. But by the time of
the 1945 and 1950 elections, Brazil had changed, and a new
type of political campaign was possible. Where in the past,
politicians in the national capital and in Sao Paulo and
Minas Gerais had to depend entirely upon local political
bosses— the so-called "colonels"— to carry the vote, they
could now appeal directly to the electorate. Particularly in
1950, and again in 1955, the candidates for the presidency
of the republic traveled extensively by airplane from north
to south Brazil. They spoke to the voters over the radio and
appealed to them through cinema shorts. In 1955, tele-

208 Social Change in Latin America Today

vision was used in a political campaign for the first time,
and "television personality" became an important factor.
Political leaders and campaign managers could now move
easily from one distant city to another, and political propa-
ganda could be put out on a national scale. In cities and
small towns loud-speaker systems blared forth recorded
appeals almost day and night. Local political bosses and
local machines continued to be important in these cam-
paigns, and in some isolated areas the old traditional
Coronel carried the electorate as he did in the past. Still,
a new kind of political campaign had come to the fore.

These economic, educational and political developments
are but a few of the trends that are now changing the
entire structure of Brazilian society. Nothing has been said
of the development of public administration, which has
been eagerly promoted during the last twenty years. Nor
has anything been said about legal forms. Since 1946, the
country has lived under a new federal constitution. And,
of some importance are the changes that have resulted
from economic and political relations with other countries;
Brazil's increasing international trade and its growing role
in international organizations are closely related to its
internal affairs. Yet, the major trends which I have sketched
will, I hope, make it clear that only now is Brazil going
through the same kind of social and economic revolution
that most Western European countries experienced in the
nineteenth century. But with this important difference:
Brazil is undergoing its revolution in the midst of the
accelerated changes and profound tensions of the mid-
twentieth century. If the industrial revolution exerted
both disruptive and creative influences on the society of
nineteenth-century Europe, how much more disruptive
and creative is its Brazilian counterpart in the middle of
the twentieth century?

The Brazilian Revolution 209

Modern Brazil

Out of the apparent chaos engendered by the Brazilian
revolution a new society is emerging. Certain main lines
of its development are even now apparent. It is clear that
Brazil will some day be one of the world's most important
economic powers and that its economic system will be a
modified form of industrial capitalism. Politically, Brazil
is allied with the West, and much of its past and present
political thinking points to a democratic form of govern-
ment. Culturally, it has by tradition looked to Europe, first
to Portugal, and later to France. Isolated by language and
traditions from Hispanic- and Anglo-America, it has only
in the last decades really come to know and be known to
its American neighbors. More recently the United States
has grown to be its most important foreign market and its
most important source of imports. As trade has turned to
the United States, Brazil has also sought technological
inspiration there, and nowadays thousands of Brazilians,
who in the past would have gone to Europe, travel to and
study in the United States. Probably the United States,
more than Europe, will influence the emergent Brazilian
society.

What is the new society that is beginning to emerge
in Brazil? Fundamental to any understanding of this future
society is the recognition of the growing importance of
four social and economic groups: the urban lower class, the
rural proletariat,28 the middle class, and the new upper
class. These are not entirely "new" segments of the social
structure. For a long time there have been many lower-class
workers in the cities; a small middle class has existed since
colonial times; wage workers on large plantations became
usual about with the end of slavery; even in the colonial
period the upper class was always fed by arrivistas, or new
arrivals. What is significant now is the added numerical

28 I have borrowed this term from Sidney Mintz ("The Culture History
of a Puerto Rican Cane Plantation 1876-1949," Hispanic American
Historical Review, May 1953, pp. 224-251).

210 Social Change in Latin America Today

force of these four groups and the new values and ways of
life they seem to be acquiring.

THE URBAN LOWER CLASS

During the past twenty years migrants from the rural
zones to the cities have been of all social classes. The great
ambition of youths of the small-town middle and local
upper classes has been to move to the city where life is
more convenient and more stimulating. Obviously, how-
ever, the majority of rural migrants are from the lower
class, and in the city they continue to perform manual
labor. Many of them have come from the distant "interior"
—most often from the arid northeastern states— directly to
the large cities of Sao Paulo and Rio de Janeiro. Single
males may go directly to work in the building trades, living
in the skeletons of the very structures they are helping
to build. At night they sleep in hammocks on the job.
Sometimes they even cook their meals on open fires in the
reinforced-concrete structures. Then, too, one also finds
in Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo, entire families who have
recently migrated there from distant rural zones. Families
of newcomers have trouble in finding any form of housing;
often they end up living in favelas (shanty towns) or in
remote suburbs. The largest number of rural migrants to
the cities seem to come from nearby rural areas. In the city
of Sao Paulo, for example, the great majority of recent
migrants have come to the city from Sao Paulo state.29
Then, as nearby rural inhabitants move to the large cities,
their places are often filled by migrants from more distant
regions. Thus, migration to the cities usually takes place
by a series of steps, rather than all at once. Most of the
recent arrivals in the city know something of urban life
and what is expected of them.

Nevertheless, studies that have been made of small
communities not far distant from the large metropolitan

29 Vicente Unzer de Almeida, and Octavio Teixeira Mendes Sobrinho,
Migragdo rural-urbana (Sao Paulo: Secretaria da Agriculture, Estado de
Sao Paulo, 1952).

The Brazilian Revolution 211

centers of Sao Paulo and Rio de Janeiro indicate that
even there the rural population is thoroughly rural in its
outlook.30 It is obvious that the members of this enor-
mously swollen urban lower class, who work in industry
and in the booming building trade, do not make up an
"urban proletariat" in the European sense, holding urban
values and "born and bred" to the city. The vast majority
of them are, in a sense, peasants living in the city. Many
of them live in the city with a false dream of some day
returning to their small towns and farms after they have
saved enough money. They are paid poorly by U.S. or
even by European standards, but still they earn three or
four times more than in the rural areas.31 Furthermore,
they have steady work rather than the intermittent employ-
ment which is all they often can find at home. Their real
wages increase, yet slowly they acquire new necessities and
are beset with a whole new set of problems. In the rural
areas, housing and transportation are seldom serious prob-
lems. In the city, to find any kind of dwelling within their
means is very difficult indeed. A worker may have to spend
two to three hours, or even as much as five or six hours,
traveling between his home and work. But gradually these
rural migrants come to acquire a taste for city things—
the occasional movie, the parade on Independence Day,
and other forms of recreation— and they always have be-
fore them examples of people who live better than anyone
in their home towns or rural areas. Few even return to
the hinterland; when they do, it is rarely for long.

This recently formed urban lower class has lost the
social institutions that gave its members a sense of security
and stability in their rural communities; but they have not
yet developed a new set of institutions to replace the old
system. In the city, there is seldom a storekeeper to extend

30 Emilio Willems, Cunha: Tradigdo e transicao em uma cultura rural
do Brasil (Sao Paulo: Secretaria da Agriculture, Estado de Sao Paulo, 1947);
and Donald Pierson, Cruz das Almas: A Brazilian Village (Washington:
Institute of Social Anthropology, Smithsonian Institute, 1952).

31 Jacques Lambert, Le Bresil: Structure sociale et institutions politi-
ques (Paris: Colin, 1953), p. 44.

212 Social Change in Latin America Today

them credit. There are political leaders, to be sure, but
the Coronel, the traditional political boss of the country
people, is not present to tell them how to vote. They work
for a company or corporation; thus they no longer have
a patrdo in the traditional sense. They live the impersonal
life of the city without the kinsmen and lifelong friends
of the same neighborhood. Their chief form of security
must be derived from the well-conceived, but imperfectly
functioning, labor code. When they need help they turn
to the sindicato or labor union, and the Fiscal, or inspector
of the Ministry of Labor, who ultimately controls the
union. These quasi-legal associations and government
organizations hardly take the place of the highly personal
patrdo. Many of these recent migrants are illiterate or
semiliterate and they are bewildered with the com-
plexities of the bureaucracy. Often they are unaware of
the laws that protect them and at a loss about how to claim
their rights. It is not surprising that there are frequent
demonstrations and protests which have even resulted in
the burning of street cars as a protest against an increase
in fares and the miserable transportation service.

It was to this urban lower class that Getulio Vargas and
his Partido Trabalhista Brasileiro appealed and from
which he drew most of his support. Not only did his govern-
ment promulgate the labor code, establish minimum wages,
and establish (and control) the labor unions during the
so-called "New State" (1937-1945), but also Vargas himself
had a deep emotional appeal to these people. They saw in
him an image of the father-like patrdo and protector. He
was called affectionately "The Father of the Poor," "The
Old One," or just "Getulio." When Vargas spoke to them
over his "Hour of Brazil" on the radio, he addressed him-
self to the trabalhadores do Brasil (workers of Brazil). To
them he represented security in the new impersonal world
of the city. Never did these workers become fanatic, semi-
fascistic followers of their leader as did Peron's descamisa-
dos (the "shirtless ones") in Argentina, and as did many
followers of similar charismatic leaders in Europe. Rather,

The Brazilian Revolution 213

they were passive but loyal to their protector in whom they
recognized many faults, just as they had in their patrdo
in the rural areas and on the plantations.

Vargas was admired for his astuteness and his daring.
His electoral following was not shocked when he used
doubtful political methods to gain power or when he de-
prived the country of political freedom. After all they were
accustomed to the rigged elections in the rural areas. They
were not upset when Vargas surrounded himself with
capangas (toughs), when his relatives were accused of en-
riching themselves through his favors, or when during
World War II he opportunely shifted his support from the
Axis powers to the Allies. To them, this was a familiar
pattern of behavior. After all, in traditional Brazil and
in the rural areas, the upper-class patrdo had lived ostenta-
tiously while the lower classes lived miserably. The patrdo
had obviously exploited them, even while he provided
them with some measure of security. The important thing
to the new urban lower class was that Vargas proclaimed
that he fought for their interests against the new imper-
sonal upper-class groups of the cities and that he could
point to some evidence that he had acted in their favor.
Deprived of the slight security that the old social structure
of traditional Brazil had afforded them, they looked for
a new patrdo, and Vargas seemed to fulfill that role. Even
after his death in 1955, they continued to rally to the
support of his political party, electing his political heir,
Joao Goulart, vice-president of the republic.

It is natural for this new urban lower class to be vulnera-
ble to extreme right- or left-wing movements as its mem-
bers seek for leadership and guidance in an unfamiliar and
impersonal world. Through similar causes the Brazilian
Communist party garnered almost 600,000 votes in 1945,
electing one senator and fourteen deputies. Even today,
although it is illegal and "underground," the Communist
party undoubtedly has considerable influence. Yet, despite
the glamor exercised by the Communist leader, Luis Carlos
Prestes, and despite the leadership provided by some intel-

214 Social Change in Latin America Today

lectuals, it is doubtful that the Communist party has any
wide support among the urban lower class.

This new class is still rural in its orientation and to a
large extent traditional in its point of view. Its members
do not see their situation as a product of a "class struggle."
They are Catholics and are influenced by the church, and
they are looking for a patrdo for their protection, not for
an internationally oriented political movement. Even when
they turn from Vargas or his party they vote for such
candidates as Adhemar de Barros, and for Janio Quadros,
both past governors of Sao Paulo state. Both these men,
like Vargas, appeal to the half-felt need of the urban lower
class for a protector, and they proclaim their support to
this group against the upper-class "exploiters." Even so,
the urban lower class might easily be swung to new charis-
matic leaders; as long as their plight is serious, they will be
vulnerable to extremist influences. For the time being, they
are mild and relatively passive— a heritage of their recent
past— but they might easily learn to be violent.

THE RURAL PROLETARIAT

Similar to the urban lower class, but numerically less
strong, is a new rural segment of the Brazilian population,
the workers on the large mechanized plantations. Like the
urban lower class, these wage laborers have been separated
from their traditional way of life. They no longer have a
patrdo in the traditional sense. On the large sugar cane
plantations and in the sugar mills of Sao Paulo, Bahia,
and Pernambuco, on the large coffee plantations of Sao
Paulo and Parana, and on the few large cocoa plantations of
southern Bahia the workers are employees of corporations.
Their immediate supervisors are also corporation employ-
ees and administrators. It is often true that the shareholders
in many of these corporations are relatives, and that such
corporations are "family affairs." Still, the corporation
must be run as a "strictly business enterprise." In a study
of community life in a sugar cane producing area of Bahia,
Harry W. Hutchinson describes the new pattern of work:

The Brazilian Revolution

215

These two new managers (employed by the corporation) have
put the relations between management and labor on a strictly
business basis and have removed all elements of paternalism.
Upon taking over, they dismissed most of the older, higher-
level factory, field, and office workers. Administrators, me-
chanics and bookkeepers, most of whom had seen twenty
years or more of service, were dispatched. New people came
to take their places and some of the vacancies were filled by
promotions. Time clocks were installed, and the system of
authority was reinforced all the way down the line. Social
legislation— a new factor in rural, agricultural Brazil— was
invoked to take the place of paternalism.32

On these large agricultural establishments, the workers are
more numerous and more heterogeneous than on the older
and smaller family-owned plantations. The field hands,
skilled labor, office workers, and executives no longer form
a close-knit neighborhood, united by kinship and many
years of close acquaintance. They come from many places
and they frequently move on after a time, seeking work
elsewhere.

Usually these large agricultural establishments are
closely integrated into the national marketing system. By
necessity, they are connected to the larger metropolitan
centers and ports by adequate systems of transportation and
communications. On them, the houses of the workers,
generally provided by the corporation, form small towns;
there are stores, a school, a chapel or church, generally a
soccer field and club, and a system to supply water and
electricity. The corporation furnishes medical assistance,
and there is a clinic— sometimes a small hospital. As Hutch-
inson found, the workers are not protected by social legisla-
tion, and labor unions are active among them. Many of
these workers are recent migrants from more distant rural
zones and many are illiterate. Like their fellows in the
cities, they hardly know how to cope with this new im-
personal world and its many regulations. In another and
older setting, they were accustomed to look for protection

82 Cited, p. 107.

216 Social Change in Latin America Today

to a patrao: a landowner, a storekeeper, or even a political
boss. Now, they must depend upon "the government," that
is, laws, and on political leaders for help in securing their
rights. In the political arena, they, like the urban lower
class, are vulnerable to the appeal of a charismatic leader
or even of a demagogue who promises protection and
support in an impersonal world.

It is difficult to judge the numerical force of this rural
proletariat. Certainly, it forms a much smaller group
throughout the country than the urban lower class and
the more numerous but isolated peasant farmers. Brazil has
not developed large-scale mechanized "factories-in-the-
field" comparable to the sugar plantations of Cuba or
Puerto Rico or the banana plantations of Central America.
In fact, in the southern states and particularly in Sao
Paulo, there has been an increase during the last twenty
years in the number of farms owned or worked by single
families. Nevertheless, following the 1940 census, T. Lynn
Smith estimated that almost 10 per cent (or 178,326) of the
agricultural establishments in Brazil were operated by ad-
ministrators, and these establishments were relatively large,
including almost 23 per cent of the total acreage under
cultivation.33 Hendrik Meijer estimated also on the basis
of the 1940 figures that 17.5 per cent of the agricultural
and cattle-raising establishments were owned in condo-
minio, or by multiple owners, and 10.3 per cent by pessoas
juridicas, mainly corporations.34 The same census figures
showed that almost 1,500,000 people lived on plantations
operated by administrators. Without doubt many of these
"administrator-operated" plantations are relatively small
and of the traditional family-owned type, but particularly
in the sugar-producing regions of the country there has
been a marked trend during the past fifty years toward
large corporation-owned enterprises, which combine the
growing of cane with milling and refining of sugar.35

33 Cited, p. 382.

34 Rural Brazil at the Cross Roads (Wageningen: Veenman, 1951), p. 52.

35 Gileno de Carli, O processo historico da usina em Pernambuco (Rio
de Janeiro, 1942), in Smith, cited, p. 440.

The Brazilian Revolution 217

It is difficult to predict whether or not the future trend
of Brazil's agricultural development will emphasize the
"factory-in-the-field." Several well-trained observers feel
that the small-farm pattern similar to that common in the
United States and in the south of Brazil, will spread
throughout the country.36 The growing system of tenancy
in Sao Paulo and other states and the subdivision of
enormous states on the Parana frontier is resulting in the
formation of a large class of farmers who work the land
themselves. As communications improve, this large class of
rural farmers will also, along with the rural proletariat, be
drawn into the mainstream of modern Brazil. For the time
being, however, it seems that the effects of the Brazilian
revolution are filtering from the cities into the rural zones
mainly through the channel of the workers on large plan-
tations. This segment of the rural population has already
broken with the old traditions and institutions, but the
shape of its new life is not yet fixed.

THE NEW MIDDLE CLASS

Ever since the early nineteenth century, Brazil has had
a small group of people who might be classified as "middle
class." These were the families of men who were clerks
in government offices or had other white-collar occupations.
In small towns, there has long been the provincial "upper
class," distinct from the landed gentry; it was composed of
people who made their living as municipal and state em-
ployees, from commerce, and sometimes from small-scale
landholdings. From the mid-nineteenth century, the im-
migration of Europeans added to this small middle group,
especially in southern Brazil. Traditionally, the army,
rather than being truly "aristocratic" and controlled by the
landed gentry, has been a means of upward mobility and
has been dominated by the middle class.37 Until very re-

36 Smith, cited, p. 443.

37 This is often misunderstood by those who know Spanish America
but who are less well acquainted with Brazil. They see the Brazilian army
as an instrument of the old traditional society of the nineteenth century
as it often seems to be in other Latin American countries. But in Brazil,

218 Social Change in Latin America Today

cently this middle segment has been insignificant in num-
bers, and until recently it tended to identify its outlook
with the aristocratic values of the landed gentry.

The size of the present-day middle class is difficult to
determine. Yet to anyone who has known Brazil during
the past fifteen years, it is apparent that this group has
increased many times over and that it is growing with
every year. Its new role is reflected in the enormous in-
crease in demand for consumer goods, the expansion of
housing in the middle-income brackets, and the rapid
development of services of all kinds for middle-income
groups in the large cities. Perhaps, the best index of growth
is the increase of "white-collar" jobs, for the middle groups
still consider manual labor in any form as "lower class."
The rapid growth of federal, state, and municipal civil
service has opened up many "white-collar" positions, and
government employment has been perhaps the most im-
portant single road to membership in the middle class.
With the rapid growth of industry and commerce, nu-
merous jobs have also opened up in offices and in stores.
Furthermore, with the growth of the population as a whole,
there are greater opportunities in the professions and there
is an urgent demand for specialists in chemistry, nursing,
engineering, surveying, and the like. Social mobility in
Brazil today is rapid and the demands of its expanding
economy call for white-collar workers and specialists as well
as for labor.

This growing new class finds itself in a difficult situation.
Its members have learned to expect a higher standard of
living than they can actually afford. Their economic prob-
lem is very acute. They live in a modern world of the radio,
television, cinema, and the theater. They have learned to
want, even to need, telephones, electric iceboxes, washing
machines, typewriters, automobiles, and a multitude of
industrial products and gadgets. They want better and
more modern homes, and they are extremely conscious of

the army, which is no less politically potent, represents a new growing
middle class.

The Brazilian Revolution 219

and eager for good clothes. They are prey to modern ad-
vertising and fads; fashions come and go among this group
as they do in the United States or in Europe.

The difficulty is that few of them earn enough to acquire
what they have been taught to regard as modern necessities.
A few professionals and some very successful businessmen
can afford to purchase cooperative apartments in the city
or houses in the suburbs, electrical appliances, and other
things of the kind; but the lower echelons of the new
middle class earn very poor salaries in relation to their
aspirations. A 1948 study of comercidrios, or commercial
employees— mainly clerks and the like— in Rio de Janeiro
showed that 60 per cent of them earned less than 3,000
cruzeiros per month (about $60 U.S.), 33 per cent earned
between that amount and 6,000 cruzeiros, and only 7 per
cent earned over 6,000 cruzeiros.38 At the same time, a
librarian at the National Library, after many years of serv-
ice, might be earning about 5,000 cruzeiros ($100 per
month), and a secretary in a government office or a school-
teacher about the same. By comparison, at that time, a
small electric icebox cost 15 to 20,000 cruzeiros ($300-
$400), or the equivalent of five or six months' salary for
the majority of these people. Other prices were equally
high in relation to income.39 The same study of the com-
mercial employees showed that they spent on the average
as much as 40-45 per cent of their income for food and
less than 3 per cent for recreation.40 It is not surprising
that many middle-class families buy "on time" and that
many are in debt. They are truly "economically frustrated."

The aspirations of this class and their frustrations are

38 L.A. Costa Pinto Instituto de Economia, Pesquisa sobre a padrao de
vida do comercidrio no distrito federal (Rio de Janeiro: Author, 1949),
p. 107.

39 Since then, salaries in all categories have been increased but prices
have also increased almost as much. Although Brazil now produces more
of the items that the middle class wishes to buy (electric iceboxes, for ex-
ample), national products are high in price, almost as high as imported
items.

40 Pesquisa sobre a padrao de vida . . . , cited, p. 169.

220 Social Change in Latin America Today

reflected in the educational crisis. This new middle class
places a high value on education. Through giving their
children secondary and higher education, they hope to
consolidate or improve for their children the positions they
have won. For example, in a study of the 1,353 students in
seventeen "middle schools" (Gindsios) it was found that
the parents of 40.5 per cent of the students were high-rank-
ing employees in commerce and government and the par-
ents of 24.2 per cent of the group were bookkeepers, clerks,
salesmen, primary-school teachers, and other lower echelon
"white-collar" commercial and government employees.
Taken together, the two groups, clearly of the new middle
class, accounted for 64.7 per cent of the secondary students
in the sample. The parents of 18.6 per cent of these students
belonged to the upper class (landed gentry, high-prestige
professionals, etc.) and the parents of only 8.4 per cent were
manual laborers and artisans. The remaining students were
children of professionals of less prestige such as dentists,
teachers, pharmacists, army officers, and the like— a group
that has been middle class for several generations.41 An-
other study carried out in the state of Rio de Janeiro
indicated that by far the preponderant number of sec-
ondary students came from this new middle class.42 In this
desire to educate their children they are often frustrated,
for secondary schools, mainly private, are costly in relation
to the income level of the group that is most anxious to
profit by them.

The new middle class shares many values with the small
group which, in earlier days, formed the Brazilian middle
class. Essentially, they have not yet developed their own
middle-class ideology or values in the same way as the
European and North American middle classes. Funda-
mentally, they still identify their aspirations with older
and aristocratic values, except in the extreme south of

41 Juarez Ruben Brandao Lopez, "Escolha ocupacional e origem
social de ginasios em Sao Paulo," Educagdo e Ciencias Sociais (Rio de
Janeiro), August 1956, pp. 43-62.

42 Unpublished notes of the author.

The Brazilian Revolution 221

Brazil, where European influences are strong. They are
"white-collar" groups, and they have a deep disdain for
manual labor. In the study of the secondary-school students
in Sao Paulo already referred to, more than 60 per cent
of them still hoped to become either medical doctors,
engineers, lawyers, or plantation owners— the four most
traditional and prestigeful occupations of traditional
Brazil. This indicates, according to the Brazilian author
of the study, "the permanence of traditional Brazilian
values relating to work (or occupation) in an environment
in which economic development demands new special-
ties." 43 Likewise, it is customary for most families of this
class, even though they may be having a difficult time
making ends meet, to have at least one domestic servant.
And, although it cannot be expressed statistically, the hos-
pitality of this middle class often reaches an ostentatious
level that is far beyond their economic means. In brief,
they are not ideologically a "middle class." They aspire
to the old aristocratic values of the landed gentry of the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. This is not only im-
possible economically for them but also out of keeping
with the needs of modern Brazil.

The Brazilian middle class is, in a sense, the most con-
servative social segment of their society. Because they are
insecure in their position, they make a point of preserving
most of the old Latin American values and traditional
patterns of behavior. Yet, they cannot maintain many of
these values and behavior patterns, either because the
world around them is changing or because they lack the
economic basis to support them. They believe that a
woman's place is in the home, and yet their daughters,
even their wives, often work in business or in the govern-
ment. They value the large Latin American family with
its close ties among kinsmen and its large family gatherings,
but many of this middle class have lost touch with their
kinsmen through migrating to the cities or through their

43 Brandao Lopez, cited, p. 61.

222 Social Change in Latin America Today

new social and economic mobility. They value the tradi-
tional Brazilian emphasis upon a humanistic education,
but at the same time they are highly materialistic. They
want a higher material standard of living, and they are
aware of the importance of technology and of a scientific
education. Nationalistic and patriotic, this group believes
strongly in the past and future of their great country.
They are quick to take offense at any slight or disparage-
ment of Brazil. Like the middle class in the United States,
they might be called "isolationist" or "ethnocentric." And
then, these are the same people who flock to English
language classes in most of the big cities, follow the lives
of American movie stars in their fan magazines, and
readily adopt the latest American fashion or fad. To them,
the United States symbolizes a higher standard of living
and the type of society, at least materially, to which they
aspire.

Even now, this middle class is changing rapidly. As it
grows in numbers and as it consolidates its economic posi-
tion, it will probably develop its own social and political
ideology and values. It will no longer identify its ambitions
with the traditional upper class or copy its aristocratic
values. Already it is divided politically. Many owe their
economic positions to the Vargas regime, under which the
bureaucracy was greatly expanded, and many support his
party. But most middle-class people looked with critical
eyes on the excesses of the Vargas regime and on its sup-
pression of political and civil liberty for almost ten years.
Like the traditional upper class, they are not above seeking
special privileges for themselves or their relatives; it is
part of the normal course of life to make use of a pistoldo,
or "pull," if one has important friends or relatives. But
this middle class also values "honesty." Thus, in 1950 it
voted in great numbers for Carlos Lacerda, the journalist
critic who exposed the excesses of the recent Vargas regime,
when he ran for deputy. Its members voted for Eduardo
Gomes in 1945 and 1950 and for Juarez Tavora in 1955—
these were the "honest" candidates for president who rep-

The Brazilian Revolution 223

resented to them the traditional values of Brazil. Although
he often performed like a demagogue, they voted for Janio
Quadros when he ran for governor of Sao Paulo state,
because he promised to "clean house" and wipe out graft.
Still, although it is perhaps the most articulate segment
of Brazilian society, this middle class is hardly large enough
to dominate the electorate. It is far outnumbered by the
urban lower class and by that part of the rural population
which is still under the influence of a patrdo or of a po-
litical machine. This was especially evident in the 1955
election when, according to most observers, it was the
combination of the urban lower class and the patrao-
dominated rural vote that defeated the candidates of the
middle class. But as the economy and the educational
system expand, the middle groups will grow in size and
influence. Their role will be crucial for the future of the
country.

THE NEW UPPER CLASS

Finally, the Brazilian revolution has changed the face
of the country's upper class. The "traditional families" of
the beginning of the century are still important in Brazil-
ian life and their names continue to appear in high busi-
ness circles, in political and public life, in the diplomatic
corps, and in the intellectual life of the country. But dur-
ing the last twenty years an increasing number of people
from the middle class have moved into the upper class
through acquiring wealth, political influence, education
or professional competence. The Vargas regime brought
many new names into national prominence. The expand-
ing economy of the last twenty years has opened up numer-
ous opportunities for amassing new wealth, and success
stories of "rags to riches" are often heard in Rio de Janeiro
and Sao Paulo. Many of the European immigrants who
arrived in Brazil during the late nineteenth or during the
first decade of the twentieth century have prospered and
have even made great fortunes. Such names as Matarazzo
in industry, Jaffet in industry and banking, Lunardelli in

224 Social Change in Latin America Today

coffee, Santos Vahlis in real estate, and Klabine in paper
manufacturing are but a few people of non-Luso-Brazilian
origin who are now of great importance in their respective
fields. Second-generation immigrants have entered widely
into the scientific, artistic, and even the political life
of the country.

Many of these new upper-class members are arrivistas,
or recent arrivals, and, like the "new rich" everywhere,
they often shock the traditional upper class, and even the
middle class, by their ostentation, their manners, and their
unscrupulous methods. It might almost be said that some
in this group have no traditional values. They have
achieved their exalted positions by astuteness and hard
work, not by inheritance or family position. These are, as
Gilberto Freyre has pointed out, "transitional figures"
arising out of the rapid changes in the economic system.
As he also points out,

The transitional figure is just as common among Brazilians of
Portuguese origin as among those of non-Portuguese origin.
Their transition has been from the agrarian North to the
industrial South, from country to city, and sometimes from
positions of weakness and poverty to positions of power and
wealth. In such circumstances, moral controls break down, and
the influence of one's ancestral environment, whether it be
a farm in Brazil or a farm in Italy, no longer affects one's be-
havior.44

Such people have only partially understood the values of
the Brazilian gentry and, in fact, they may be said to
aspire only partially to acquiring traditional Brazilian
upper-class values. They are far more interested in ac-
quiring the high material comforts of the rich of New
York and Paris than in the old family-oriented Brazilian
upper-class traditions, yet they continue a long Brazilian
tradition of the love of ostentation and luxury.

It must not be thought that this "new upper class" stands

44 Gilberto Freyre, "The Brazilian Melting Pot," Atlantic Monthly,
February 1946, p. 107.

The Brazilian Revolution 225

apart and is rebuffed by the traditional families of Brazil.
Nor must it be thought that all of its members behave as
arrivistas and "new rich." Among them many are as malle-
able and as mobile socially as they have been economically
and politically. One has only to look at the increasing
number of non-Portuguese names in the society columns
of the large cities and at the frequent announcements of
marriages between individuals of traditional upper-class
families and the new upper class to understand that their
success is not confined to the market place or the political
arena. The new upper class is, in fact, rapidly fusing with
the old traditional upper class to form a new dominant
segment of Brazilian society. This is taking place even in
the traditional sugar plantation area of Bahia. Harry W.
Hutchinson describes vividly how a new upper-class family,
the "Helvetians," took over control of an important sugar
mill from the old traditional family, whom he calls the
"Condes":

Usina Sao Pedro was described earlier as a family corpora-
tion, owned and operated by the members of one extended
family (i.e., the Condes). At one time in the last five years, this
family was obliged to take into the corporation a large amount
of capital representing a second family enterprise, considerably
larger in scope than the first. Within a short time, the second
family achieved complete control of the factory through a
series of financial manipulations. As a result, Usina Sao Pedro
passed from the Conde family's ownership and direction and
is now just one element of a large commercial firm. . . . The
second family, the Helvetians, is a second-generation immi-
grant family. . . . The Helvetians have taken a place in the
upper ranks of Bahian society, representing new money and
economic power. Their history is important. The original im-
migrant married into a Bahian family of "good name" and
all of his sons have done the same. One of them married a
daughter of the Coronel, founder of the Usina Sao Pedro. It
was through this marriage that the transfer of the factory was
channeled.45

45 Cited, p. 180.

226 Social Change in Latin America Today

This process is not a new one in Brazilian society, for
the traditional upper class has never been a truly closed
social class; it has always been fed by the assimilation of
newcomers from the lower and middle classes and from
abroad. During the empire and the early republic, the
aristocracy was enlarged by newcomers who through inter-
marriage soon became part of the traditional upper class.
Foreign names of German, Polish, English, French, and
Italian origin are not infrequently as familiar as Portu-
guese surnames. In the past, it has been the traditional
upper class that has absorbed the newcomers, thereby pre-
serving and transmitting its aristocratic values. With the
shock of the new Brazilian revolution, the newcomers into
the upper economic and social echelons of society are to-
day more numerous than ever before. As a consequence,
the dominant segment of Brazilian society may take a new
form, one more like that which prevails in the United
States, where the values of the power group derive from
commerce, industry, and capital rather than from politics
and landowning.

The changes in the upper class have made themselves
felt intensely in political life. The party that has been in
strongest opposition to Vargas and his heirs from 1945 to
the present has been the Uniao Democrdtica Nacional
(UDN). Its leaders have come mainly from traditional
upper-class families, such as the Melo Franco family, long
prominent in Minas Gerais. Its candidates for the presi-
dency have been from middle-class and traditional upper-
class families. Its electoral following has also probably been
made up largely of the middle and traditional upper class,
and of voters living in small towns and rural areas, where
the values of these "traditionalist" classes persist. On the
other hand, the new upper class has often been allied with
the Partido Social Progressista led by Adhemar de Barros,
and with the Partido Trabalhista Brasileiro founded by
Getulio Vargas, both of which also appeal strongly to the
urban lower class. Many members of the new upper class
owe their advancement to the Vargas regime, and others

The Brazilian Revolution 227

hope for special favors after new elections. Some others no
doubt give their support out of a fear of the rising power
of the urban lower class or a suspicion of the continued
power of the traditional upper class. Thus, one finds an
unusual political alliance in modern Brazil— an alliance,
in many cases, between the wealthiest segment of the
population, the new business and industrial groups, and
the urban lower class who often live in outright misery.
For different reasons, both seem to be united against what
they consider the special privileges of the old oligarchy.

Brazil and the United States

The makers of U.S. policy toward Brazil as well as those
who work face to face with Brazilian problems must under-
stand the process, the trends, and the full import of the
Brazilian revolution, Policy toward any country must be
based on an awareness of dynamic trends and new forces,
and this is especially true of Brazil. From the turn of the
century, and especially since 1930, Brazilian society has
changed profoundly, and this revolution has not yet come
to an end. In fact, it is only now in full swing and the
changes in the next two decades will surely be more drastic
than those of the recent past.

Brazil is in a stage of transition from a society essentially
agrarian and rural, with a rigid class system, to one that is
industrial and urban-oriented, in which older class lines
are fading and a new social, economic, and political order
is beginning to emerge. New socio-economic segments have
already appeared in some key regions, but throughout most
of the country, particularly in the north and in remote
rural areas, the traditional social and economic class system
persists. There most of the population still depend upon
a pairdo for economic security and for direction in political
affairs. In these less-developed parts of the country, and
to a certain extent through the country, the traditional
values of the past continue to function and to determine
individual behavior and the relations between individuals

228 Social Change in Latin America Today

and groups. To understand this "traditional Brazil" one
must understand the great value placed on the family and
kinship relations, on old social class associations, on per-
sonal relations and personalism in all forms, and upon
transcendentalism and humanism.46 These old Luso-Bra-
zilian values are still very much alive in Brazil, and they
help to explain both the present and also the clash between
the old and new forces in Brazilian society.

It is in the south of Brazil, however, and especially in
the large cities, as well as in the smaller cities of between
50,000 and 100,000 people that are appearing with in-
creasing frequency on the map, that the trends of the
future are most apparent. Here masses of people have
broken with the traditional values, and the old class struc-
ture is giving way to new social and economic alignment.
Social organization is fluid, and people are striving eagerly
to improve their status. A new set of values and a new
set of social institutions have not yet fully appeared to
replace those of traditional Brazil. Members of the urban
lower class and their rural counterparts, the so-called rural
proletariat, so far have received only nominal protection
through the labor and social welfare laws and through the
new labor unions. And they no longer have the minimal
protection of a rural patrao. Nor have they developed a
class ideology or associations in keeping with the urban
scene. Still, this segment of the Brazilian population is
politically powerful. If the present trends of the Brazilian
revolution continue, they will increase in numbers and in
political awareness and power. In their striving to improve
their lot they are vulnerable to the appeals of demagogues
of the extreme left or extreme right; they also respond to
the extension of true democratic processes when that offers
them the opportunities they seek.

Likewise, in these cities, large and small, and in small
towns, the Brazilian middle class is growing rapidly, but
it is slow to acquire a middle-class ideology and a system

46 Compare John Gillin, above, pp. 28 ff.

The Brazilian Revolution 229

of middle-class values. At least the lower strata of this new
middle class, and to a lesser extent most of this class, are
frustrated by the conflict between their new material wants
or "necessities" and the inadequacy of their small incomes,
which are further diluted by inflation. To date, it cannot
be said that the middle class forms "the backbone of the
nation," but, in my opinion, this is the social segment that
will be most important in determining the Brazil of the
future. The traditional upper class is ill at ease with the
upheavals which have riven their traditional society and
with the appearance of the "new upper class" based upon
industry and commerce. They often tend to become
saudosistas (nostalgic) about the Brazil of the past. The
new upper class is still too busy consolidating its financial,
political, and social position to be concerned with public
responsibility. It is the middle class who are seeking sec-
ondary and higher education in large numbers. Out of
this class are emerging the leaders in science, public health,
education, public administration, and even in politics.
As the members of the middle class grow in numbers and
in economic power, they will develop a new set of Bra-
zilian values differing from the traditional values of the
aristocracy as well as from those of the middle classes in
North America, but adapted to an impersonal, modern,
and urban world. They will be the Brazilians of the future.
Both the growing urban lower class and this middle class
are the new social segments to be considered above all in
the conduct of our future relations with Brazil. In the
past it was easy to deal with a small upper-class group who
had firm control over the economic, social, and political
destinies of their country, but this class no longer exists.
Likewise, it is easy to set forth a program for Brazilian
development that focuses upon the vast rural population.
In terms of numbers, Brazil is still predominantly rural.
Certainly no country as basically rural as Brazil can truly
develop its resources unless the way of life of the rural
population is improved and brought into the orbit of
national life. However, a program of "grass roots" diplo-

230 Social Change in Latin America Today

macy focused on Brazil's rural population can easily be
misspent. Out of our own North American past, it is easy
for us to look upon the stability and security of the rural
community as a sound basis for political and economic life.
But the Brazilian rural community in reality provides little
basis for the development of a new dynamic society. It
is in the large towns, in the numerous small cities, and in
the great metropolitan centers that the future of Brazil will
be determined.

There is every reason to believe that at the end of this
century, Brazil will have become one of the great powers,
not only large in area and population, but also in providing
a high standard of living for its people. The new capital,
Brasilia, dedicated in i960, is a symbol of Brazil's deter-
mination to bring the undeveloped interior into the na-
tional society. It is also a symbol of Brazilians' national
pride. By tradition, Brazil is allied with the United States.
The direction of its internal development as well as its
international policies are important to us. Brazil will need
the help and understanding of the United States to live
through this most important epoch in its history. "The
little solutions" or jeitinhos, so common in Brazil, will not
be enough. The Brazilian revolution demands far-reaching
changes. But, with its long tradition of peaceful solutions,
there is every promise that Brazil will overcome its "grow-
ing pains'' and emerge as one of the world's strongest
democracies.

Five

SOCIAL CHANGE IN GUATEMALA
AND U.S. POLICY

by Richard N. Adams

During the decade following the Second World War, U.S.
newspapers brought, with increasing frequency, reports of
the emergence of a strong Communist leadership, sup-
ported by sympathetic presidents, in the small Central
American country of Guatemala. Most readers probably
never took this whole train of events very seriously. Every-
thing was wrong about it: small countries were unimpor-
tant; communism could not take hold in our own
backyard; and where was Guatemala, anyway? Subsequent
events made clear, however, that small countries could be
very important; that communism could gain a foothold if
it was suitably encouraged; and that Guatemala's location
turned these developments into a threat to inter- American
solidarity and security, as well as a blow to U.S. prestige
throughout the hemisphere and the world.

Today the newspapers focus their attention not on
Guatemala but on Cuba. While history seldom repeats
itself in all particulars, the conditions in these two cases
are sufficiently similar that an examination of what hap-
pened in Guatemala may provide us with a better grasp
of what is happening today in Cuba and may happen to-
morrow in the Dominican Republic or elsewhere.

231

232 Social Change in Latin America Today

To Americans in the first half of the twentieth century,
Guatemala was one of several "banana republics." In the
popular mind, these countries consisted of little more than
steaming jungles, peopled by Indians, revolutionaries,
snakes and O. Henrian consuls, all equally picturesque
and equally unimportant. In the eyes of the government,
however, the little Caribbean countries had a disconcerting
habit of ruining their treasuries in periodic revolutions,
defaulting on foreign debts, and thus offering European
powers an occasion for threatening to send in their troops.
More than once the United States sent marines into Carib-
bean countries to protect American investments, thereby
forestalling any similar action by European powers. Action
to "protect life and property" was central to U.S. policy
until 1933, when the Roosevelt administration, under the
newly proclaimed Good Neighbor policy, agreed that
armed intervention in the affairs of other American states
was no longer permissible.

At the beginning of the Good Neighbor era, Guatemala
was coming under the control of Jorge Ubico, who was
to maintain his dictatorial control for a decade. The coun-
try he ruled was one of the larger republics in Central
America, as well as the most populous among them. Al-
though most Guatemalans were independent subsistence
farmers, many worked on the numerous coffee farms that
produced Guatemala's main export, and some were em-
ployed on the banana plantations.

Guatemala's territory falls into three major zones. In
the south, the Pacific coastal plain has been sparsely popu-
lated since pre-conquest times except for a small area held
by the banana interests. In the north, the inland mass of
the Peten has similarly been underpopulated since the days
when the classic Mayan civilization held sway from its
fabulous ceremonial centers of pyramids and temples. In
the middle, running from Mexico to Honduras, lies a
broad series of mountain ranges, flanked on its southern
rim by a line of volcanoes. It is in the interior valleys,

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 233

intramountain plateaus, and southern piedmont of this
highland region that most of the Guatemalans live.1

Despite the effects of the world-wide depression and a
low level of economic activity, Ubico succeeded during
his decade of rule in paying off the government's foreign
debt and promoting the country's foreign trade. Although
he embarked upon some limited social reforms, Ubico's
policies strongly favored the coffee and banana producers
and neglected other needs for internal development, ex-
cept that of keeping the roads in good order. Labor regu-
lations operated in favor of the big producers. There was
no effort to guide the people as a whole into an era of
economic and social advancement. Individuals who pro-
tested against Ubico's policies were escorted out of the
country or otherwise denied all influence. In Guatemala
Ubico was la politico,, and this was made plain to anyone
who ventured to question it.

The Impact of World War II

Ubico's rule might well have continued for some years
longer, had it not been for the impact of World War II.
As a friend of the United States, he immediately sided with
his northern neighbor, sequestered Axis-owned properties,
and made available facilities for the enlarged defense of
the Panama Canal. The United States sent in several thou-
sand troops to build and man air bases and devoted a good
deal of effort to advertising the cause of the Allies, together
with the Atlantic Charter, the Four Freedoms, and similar
lofty goals. In the Guatemala of Ubico, one did not gener-
ally advertise any freedoms, much less four of them, with-
out evoking some invidious comparisons, and younger

l For a general background, C. L. Jones, Guatemala, Past and Present
(University of Minneapolis Press, 1940); K. H. Silvert, A Study in Govern-
ment: Guatemala, Publication 21 of the Middle American Research In-
stitute (Tulane University, New Orleans, 1954); Integration social en
Guatemala, Publication Numero 3 (Guatemala City: Seminario de Inte-
graci6n Social Guatemalteca, 1956), a collection of papers and discussions
presented at a conference held at Guatemala City in June 1956.

234 Social Change in Latin America Today

Guatemalans were quick to respond. As more and more
Guatemalans began to feel that it was their own future
freedom that was at stake, Ubico decided that the course
of greater wisdom lay in stepping down. In 1944 the aging
dictator retired to New Orleans, where he died shortly
thereafter. On his departure, the struggle for power flared
up in a revolution. By 1945 there had emerged a new
government, a new constitution, and a mass of literate and
illiterate Guatemalans filled with enthusiasm for a future
of social justice and progress.

The revolution of 1944 and its sequel have been recog-
nized by most observers to be a genuine social revolution,
a type of upheaval which has been rare in Latin America.
A progressive and constitutional government, under the
newly elected president, Juan Jose" Arevalo, embarked on
a vigorous program of social, economic, and political re-
forms. During his tenure, the U.S. -sponsored aid programs,
begun during the war and continued after its end, were
increasingly ignored or deprecated. The United States was
accused with growing frequency of economic and other
forms of imperialism and prominent Guatemalans voiced
loud approval of the ideology and programs of the Soviet
Union and Communist China. Jacobo Arbenz Guzman,
who followed Arevalo in 1951, initiated a program of
agrarian reform and came increasingly under the influence
of Communists. The excesses of the Arbenz regime brought
on a new revolution, in 1954, led by an army officer,
Colonel Carlos Castillo Armas.2

2 For various accounts and interpretations of these events, Daniel
James, Red Design for the Americas: Guatemalan Prelude (New York:
Day, 1954), a journalistic account; John Gillin and K. H. Silvert, "Am-
biguities in Guatemala," Foreign Affairs, April 1956, pp. 469-482; Philip B.
Taylor, Jr., "The Guatemalan Affair: A Critique of United States
Foreign Policy," American Political Science Review, September 1956, pp.
787-806; Penetration of the Political Institutions of Guatemala by the
International Communist Movement . . . (Washington: Department of
State, June 1954); Stokes Newbold, "Receptivity to Communist-
Fomented Agitation in Rural Guatemala," Economic Development and
Cultural Change, July 1957, pp. 338-361; also Silvert, cited. There has also
been a rash of anti-United States polemics in Spanish from members of

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 235

The advent of Castillo Armas marked a sharp swing to
the right. The Communist party was outlawed, and most
of the major political figures in the two previous regimes
fled the country. The new government appealed to the
United States to revive its aid program. Agrarian reforms
were continued on a more limited basis, but labor unions
were suppressed, as well as all political parties. In the
summer of 1957 Castillo Armas was assassinated by one of
his bodyguards. After eight uneasy months of interim
governments, a new election resulted in the choice of
Miguel Ydigoras Fuentes, who had been the leading candi-
date against Arbenz in the less-than-free election of 1950.
The new president took office in March 1958.

The Impact of U.S. Aid Programs

During World War II the United States initiated eco-
nomic and technical aid programs in Guatemala, as in
many other countries of Latin America, through the
Institute of Inter-American Affairs and other governmental
agencies. The decisions as to the kinds of technical assist-
ance to be given stemmed from a laudable but politically
shortsighted philosophy that only long-range and "basic"
problems should be tackled— hence the great emphasis on
primary education, agricultural extension, and public
health. In themselves, these programs were of considerable
value, and of them Guatemala received more than its
proportionate share. Between 1 946 and 1 950, for example,
it received from the Office of Foreign Agricultural Rela-
tions alone more dollar assistance than any other Latin
American country.3

Under these programs, little or no attention was paid to
whether or not the segments of the population at which
these efforts were aimed were politically influential. It

the Arevalo and Arbenz regimes. These have received wide circulation in
Latin America; so far as I know, none has become available in English.
3 Arthur T. Mosher, Technical Co-operation in Latin-American Agri-
culture (University of Chicago Press, 1957), Table 2, p. 20.

236 Social Change in Latin America Today

sufficed that the groups to be helped were in a precarious
economic position. The new political leaders who were
coming to power in Guatemala were more realistic. They
knew that within their country there were different kinds
of people, with different sets of problems, needs, and hopes.
Since the new leaders had also risen out of segments of the
population whose existence was scarcely known to U.S.
policy-makers, either in Washington or in Guatemala
City, no effort was made, apparently, to enlist their under-
standing or cultivate their good will.

Between 1946 and 1950, the Guatemalan government
showed an ever declining interest in working with the
U.S. technical aid missions. In 1950 it ordered the public
education mission to leave the country and effectively
restricted the activities of the agricultural and public
health specialists. Meanwhile, political activities were grow-
ing, and many changes were under way within Guatemala.
Not all were congenial to U.S. ideals and interests. Labor
unions, for example, were increasingly dominated by left-
ist leaders, who made Guatemala's big northern neighbor
their favorite whipping boy for all ills. To anyone who
observed the organizing activities, the agitation and propa-
ganda directed at the urban workers, the laborers on large
farms, and the residents of small towns and villages, it was
obvious that the new leading group was intent upon drastic
changes and that in these changes U.S. aid and influence
were, to put it mildly, unwelcome.

The failure of U.S. policy was not due primarily to
inadequate personnel and financing, or to insurmountable
problems of economic and technical development. The
difficulty stemmed, rather, from the involvement of the
United States in a struggle between competing ideologies.
Opposing U.S. policy was a local group of increasingly
influential Communist and Marxist ideologists and leaders
who were intent upon converting their people to their
own allegiance— to the discomfiture of the prestige of the
United States.

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 237

With the establishment of the Castillo Armas govern-
ment, which it had helped into power, the United States
gained a new chance to play an effective role in Guate-
mala's development. During the first two years of the new
regime, Washington poured almost $20 million into aid
programs for Guatemala. But from this outpouring of
funds there came very little in the way of effective develop-
ment. A variety of projects was initiated, but, aside from
the effort to improve the highway system, the programs
had trouble in getting off the ground. Once again, the U.S.
government failed to give a strong lead in directing the
program at the politically significant sectors of the popu-
lation. Perhaps policy-making in Washington was more at
fault than the officials stationed in Guatemala; in a bu-
reaucracy it is difficult to know where to place final re-
sponsibility. In any case, it was Guatemalan pressures and
Guatemalan decisions that, after 1954, gave a new impetus
to agrarian reform and launched a new and promising rural
development program, and it was the World Health Or-
ganization that pushed forward the program of public
sanitation. In 1957, just as technical assistance activities
seemed to be getting under way, the assassination of
Castillo Armas and the subsequent confusion threw the
picture out of focus once more. As the sixth decade of the
twentieth century drew to a close, the United States was in
serious danger of bungling its second chance to help the
process of social change in Guatemala move forward along
constructive paths.

Among the major changes that have been going on in
Guatemala over recent decades, there are some that U.S.
foreign policy-makers have either failed to perceive or, for
reasons unknown, have chosen to ignore. Not all these
changes affect all Guatemalans, but there are two factors
that go far toward explaining why some segments of the
Guatemalan people have been more receptive to Com-
munist patterns than to those of the free world. One of
these new factors is the nature of the change that has been

238 Social Change in Latin America Today

taking place. In Guatemala, as in many other parts of the
world, we are witnessing an ever accelerating rate of
change, which constantly demands new decisions, one after
another, without breathing spells. The other factor is the
source and sequence of these changes within Guatemalan
society. Most theories of social development assume that
changes take place first in the area of technological inno-
vations, followed by secondary effects in economic, social,
and political life. In Guatemala today, change is appearing
first in the field of political action, with consequences
which then spread to the social, economic and technological
fields. And it is in the area of political organization and
action that the Communists are most experienced and
most zealous. The experiences of Guatemala point to the
urgent need for the United States to re-examine its atti-
tude toward social change. If it hopes to provide an alter-
native to communism it must formulate policies with the
dynamic qualities necessary to compete successfully against
the appeals of that hostile philosophy.

Who Are the Guatemalans?

In Guatemala, as elsewhere, the population is made up
of many segments and the differences between them are
often of critical importance in predicting how they are
going to act. We must therefore find out who "the Guate-
malans" are. Only after examining the various segments,
each with its own pattern of behavior, can we say anything
intelligent about the changes that are taking place today
within Guatemalan society.

A MAJOR DIVIDING LINE: INDIANS AND "LADINOS"

A fact of prime importance is that one-half of the three
million Guatemalans are Mayan Indians. The other half,
called Ladinos, are a Spanish-American population, pre-
dominantly of mixed racial descent and clearly stratified in
a number of social classes. The Indians, differing in cus-
toms and language from the Ladinos, constitute a classless

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 239

society organized in distinctive communities.4 Within the
total population, Indians are considered by Ladinos to
constitute the lowest class, but Indians generally regard
themselves as being different from, not inferior to,
Ladinos.

The Indian population occupies the western and north-
western highland region, extending as far as the south-
western coast. Indian communities are also scattered
throughout the eastern highlands and along the southeast-
ern coast, and in the vast northern third of the country,
the Peten. The more traditional Indians live in villages
and scattered rural communities. Their settlements are
marked by extreme localism, frequently by separate local
dialects, by distinctive costumes for women (and in some
areas for men), by a largely subsistence agricultural econ-
omy with some regional specialization in handicrafts and
vegetable produce. Typically, Indians have a very low per
capita income and depend closely on local natural re-
sources for most of their daily living. However, the Indians
also depend to some extent upon a wider market, national
and even international, to earn some cash income and to
procure certain items of importance: metal hoes, machetes,
adzes, and other tools; certain medicines; dyestuffs, needles
and thread; and, oddly enough, seeds for planting their
vegetable and flower crops.5

Many elements of Indian life and thought have been
taken over from the Spanish conquerors and their Spanish-
American descendants and woven into an integrated system

4 See Sol Tax, "The Municipios of the Midwestern Highlands of
Guatemala," American Anthropologist, July 1937, pp.. 423-444; Sol Tax,
ed., The Heritage of Conquest: The Ethnology of Middle America
(Glencoe, 111.: Free Press, 1952); Richard N. Adams, "Guatemala," Cul-
tural Surveys of Panama, Nicaragua, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras,
Scientific Publication no. 33 (Washington: Pan American Sanitary Bureau,
1957)» PP« 261-412; Guatemala, Direcci6n General de Estadistica, Sexto
censo general de poblacion (Guatemala City: Author [1953]).

5 Sol Tax, Penny Capitalism: A Guatemala Indian Economy, Publica-
tion no. 16 of the Institute of Social Anthropology (Washington, 1953);
Sanford A. Mosk, "Indigenous Economy in Latin America," Inter-Ameri-
can Economic Affairs, no. 3, 1954, pp. 3-25.

240 Social Change in Latin America Today

of social, religious and political beliefs. Except for some
Protestant converts, the Indians are staunch Catholics, but
their Catholic outlook stems from the colonial era rather
than from the present-day Catholicism of Western Europe
and the United States. Today, as the Indian culture is
changing, fewer and fewer generalizations can be applied
to "all Indians."

Whereas the Indian population is segmented regionally
in individual and generally isolated communities, the
Ladino population is segmented both by regions and by
social classes. In the colonial period, the term Ladino was
used to describe Indians who had given up their native
idioms and adopted Spanish customs. Now it is applied
in Guatemala to almost the entire non-Indian population.
Some people, it is true, still use it to identify the lower
class of the non-Indian population; here it will be used
in its more widespread meaning of "non-Indians." While
having varying degrees of Indian racial descent, the Ladi-
nos are different in culture from the Indians. While one
can often tell by his dress from what town or region an
Indian comes, it is impossible by that test to determine
even whether a Ladino is a Guatemalan or not. Dress and
other characteristics serve basically to distinguish the major
social and economic strata among Ladinos. The campesino
or countryman often goes barefoot and wears ill-fitting or
homemade clothes for farm work, as well as the inevitable
straw hat. As people rise in the social scale, shoes become
obligatory, together with white shirts and collars, suits
and pegged trousers. In the upper brackets, tailored suits
are the rule, and today sport shirts are worn by almost all
classes.

Regional characteristics vary among the Ladinos, de-
pending upon whether or not there are Indians living
nearby. In the predominantly Indian regions of western
Guatemala, there are few Ladinos who can be classified as
campesinos. There, most Ladinos belong to a local upper
class of landowners and tradesmen, economically dependent
upon the lower-class Indian. In non-Indian regions, how-

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 241

ever, this agricultural lower class is made up of Ladino
countrymen, and in some areas this is a fairly stable group,
cultivating independently owned farm plots. Elsewhere it
is a mobile population, having arrived only within a gene-
ration or two as a result of the demand for labor or because
of overpopulation in its localities of origin. In predomi-
nantly Ladino regions it is not uncommon to hear middle-
and upper-class Ladinos refer to their countrymen neigh-
bors as "Indians," thereby indicating that, culturally
speaking, the latter have only recently made the transition
from the Indian group or that, socially, they are identified
as a lower class, along with the true Indians.

The confusing variation in the use of the term "Indian"
stems from the important fact that in Guatemala any
Indian can become a Ladino. Originally, the word Ladino ,
as I have noted earlier, referred to an Indian who had
taken on the Spaniards' way of life; today the term refers
to a group into which an Indian can move. If two Indian
parents move to the city, their children may grow up as
Ladinos. This involves no racial change; the terms used
today refer to habits, customs, and patterns of life rather
than to biological heritage.

Other lines of cleavage within the Guatemalan popu-
lation arise out of differing patterns of settlement. In
addition to the capital city, an urban center of over 300,-
000 people, there are also provincial centers (usually
departmental capitals), local towns serving their rural
areas, scattered rural settlements, corporate farms with
settled labor, family-owned farms with settled labor, and
temporary rural settlements for seasonal and migrant agri-
cultural labor. Within these types of settlement we find
different social relationships and different class and ethnic
elements. In general, these differences have less meaning
within the Indian population than among the Ladinos,
but even the Indians' way of life and their status are in-
fluenced by the type of settlement to which they belong.
Migrant Indian labor, for example, while less widespread
than Ladino, is still migrant labor, and it is affected by the

242 Social Change in Latin America Today

same general breakdown of social controls as among the
Ladinos. Dwellers in the capital city, whether Ladinos or
the far fewer Indians, are subject to demands and influ-
ences which do not reach out to people who live in scattered
rural homesteads and who are more likely to return to old
customs, whether they are Indians or Ladinos.

Among other factors, differences in ethnic composition
and settlement patterns tend to set apart a number of
segments of the population, each with its own consistent
pattern of behavior. These segments may conveniently be
called "components" of the Guatemalan population.6 An
essential thing to keep in mind is that these components
not only behave differently today in response both to felt
needs and to outside stimuli, but also are undergoing
different kinds of change.

the "ladinos"

Most Guatemalans, as we have noted, fall into two broad
groupings, Indians and Ladinos. However, when we look
at the distinctive groupings within the Ladino half of
the people, the picture turns out to be far more complex.
Among Ladinos, at least seven main components can be
identified: the cosmopolites; the local upper class; the
emergent middle class; the independent farmers; the mo-
bile rural laborers; the stable rural laborers; and the urban
laborers.

Within the Indian half of the population, more speci-
fically among the Maya Quiche Indians, I have identified
three major components, defined mainly by the degree to
which their way of life has changed to resemble that of
the Ladinos. These three components are: the traditional
Indians; the modified, independent Indians; and the modi-
fied Indian laborers.

6 Richard N. Adams, "Cultural Components of Central America,"
American Anthropologist, October 1956, pp. 881-907. In this reference and
elsewhere I have used a more detailed and complex classification of the
Guatemalan populations and especially of the Indians. For present pur-
poses a simplified treatment is sufficient.

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 243

One further grouping, small in number, comprises a
number of ethnic minorities, such as Chinese-Americans,
Black Carib Indians, East Indians, and Euro-Americans.
Only the last-named group has some importance in a study
of the implications of social changes for foreign policy.

What are some of the changes that these different parts
of the population have been undergoing in recent years?
What are the implications of these changes for the future
of Guatemala and for the formulation of U.S. policy?

The Cosmopolites. This small and exclusive group in-
cludes the "old families," and also families of recent
wealth that maintain a strong orientation toward European
values. Individual families show some cultural differences,
depending upon the European country of origin or prefer-
ence. This social component has traditionally looked to
coffee-growing for its wealth, although some individuals
have turned to other crops or to import and export trade.
Formerly, many cosmopolites were resident on their planta-
tions or in provincial capitals. In recent decades, as more
of them have congregated in the national capital, absentee
ownership and indirect management of rural haciendas
have become common. Within the capital, some cosmopo-
lites still cling to colonial-type residences near the center,
while others have moved to the edge of town, now made
easy of access by the automobile. Place of residence, income
(both source and amount), education, and manners— the
usual attributes of an upper class— set off the cosmopolites
from their compatriots. This background has led many
U.S. businessmen and officials to associate by preference
with the cosmopolitan segment. Then, when newly in-
fluential elements of Guatemalan society pile an active
political hostility toward the cosmopolites upon their tra-
ditional feeling of social estrangement from them, this
antagonism is readily transferred to the representatives of
U.S. business and government.

As the name indicates, the cosmopolites have more in
common with similar groups in other Latin American
countries than with the Guatemalan lower class. Their

244 Social Change in Latin America Today

numbers are few and their wealth probably does not com-
pare with the fortunes found in some other countries of
the region. Since the mid-nineteenth century, the political
power of this group, with its understandably conservative
outlook, has been weakened by the growing strength of the
middle class and, more recently, of the workers. It lost its
direct control over the government long ago; today its
influence rises or falls, depending upon the politics of the
regime in power. Since 1954 this group has supplied some
cabinet members and has exercised some further degree of
influence through important lawyers and counselors on
policy. The cosmopolites also influence national policy
through their important role in economic life.7

On the economic side, the foreign investment in banana
and coffee production, mining, transportation, and power
has led to the building up of alternative sources of wealth
and to the creation of new power centers which influence
governmental policies. For a long time the native families
of wealth stuck to coffee-planting, leaving the banana in-
dustry, railroads, and shipping to outside interests.8 The
new and old centers of economic power were not in direct
competition; in fact they tended to complement each other.
Nevertheless, the cosmopolites' political power declined
as new economic interests made their weight felt.

While coffee still remains the principal source of cos-
mopolite strength, various members of this group have
ventured into speculative farming, which, unlike coffee,
depends neither on a permanent labor supply nor on a
single long-term crop.9 Decisions to grow the next crops,
such as corn, cotton, lemon grass, or sesame, can be ad-
justed flexibly to meet shifts in supply and demand. Shift-
ing from one of these crops to another can be accomplished
more rapidly since, unlike coffee, they do not require

7 Bert F. Hoselitz, "Economic Development in Central America," Welt-
ivirtschaftliches Archiv (Hamburg), no. 2, 1956, pp. 281-282.

8 Same.

9 Francis LeBeau, "Agricultura de Guatemala," in Integration social
en Guatemala, cited, pp. 296-301.

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 245

many years to mature. The speculative farmer, while
equally dependent on distant markets for his profit, can
gauge the market more readily than can the coffee grower.
One consequence of diversification in agriculture has been
the growth of new relationships with labor and new atti-
tudes toward property. The ownership of vast areas of
land may no longer be desirable; it may be more profitable
to rent land for a single year to raise a quick crop, and then
forget about it. In this new situation, labor has no perma-
nent attachment to the hacienda and its owner, and, very
likely, cannot count on a predictable amount of seasonal
work. The new flexibility and mobility of labor, which
destroy the workers' local attachments, also change their
social and political role.

The Local Upper Class. This stratum is prominent today
in most small towns and all provincial capitals. Its mem-
bers are the well-to-do, literate portions of the local
community; they are engaged in farming with the use of
hired labor, sometimes also in nonfarming occupations,
such as running local stores, inns, or transport services.
Formerly rooted firmly in landholding, this social compo-
nent is now made up both of descendants of an older
provincial upper class and of recently established upper-
class families in new communities. When its members
leave their local communities, they may move into the
newly forming middle class. If successful in economic or
political activity, or a mixture of both, they may enter the
fringes of cosmopolite society. In some cases, they may be
reduced to poverty and be absorbed into one of the lower
classes. For this reason, the local upper component is a
peculiarly local class; unlike the cosmopolites, it survives
only in its own community setting. This group has gener-
ally had little direct contact with U.S. businessmen and
officials.

The local upper class formerly played an important role
in the Guatemalan system of social controls and sanctions.
Until the development of political parties in the late
ig4o's, it was through this channel that political control

246 Social Change in Latin America Today

was exercised over most of the small-town and rural popu-
lation. In the absence of any elaborate network of informal
political control, the concurrence of this component with
the cosmopolites in their basic philosophy was the principal
means by which the local laboring and peasant population
was "kept in place." Since both rural laborers and smaller
independent farmers had various reasons to be strongly
dissatisfied with their conditions of life, the local upper
class provided until recently an essential cement in the
social and political structure.

One of the most important changes since 1944 has been
the breaking down of the social control formerly exercised
by the local upper class. During the time of Arevalo and
Arbenz, the establishment of new and powerful groups-
political parties, a national peasants' association, agrarian
committees for the allotment of land under the agrarian
reform program, and labor unions— created for the first
time informal networks of influence and control linking
the national capital directly with the individual rural
dweller. Some members of the local upper class, it is true,
joined these new networks, but in so doing they ceased to
function as a local upper class, and became merely a link
or strand in the new and more centralized structure. The
individual countryman now came under the control of
the local party boss or the regional or local labor union
head, or of the municipal government, and, in the later
years of the Arbenz government, under that of the increas-
ingly powerful land-reform committees.

The Guatemalan local communities have been launched,
for better or for worse, on the first steps toward their
assimilation into a national structure. They are now aware
of the vulnerability of the local upper class, and of the
potential strength of new nation-wide forces. For most
Guatemalans, their class, ethnic or cultural groups, and
their local communities no longer set the limits of social
awareness. New types of national organizations have been
tried, reflecting a growing centralization of political and
economic power. The introduction of banana-growing

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 247

and railroads was the first step in the loss of power by the
cosmopolite component; more recently, the introduction
of new networks of centralized control has marked the
first step toward loss of its power by the local upper class.

The Emergent Middle Class. This is, in one sense, the
most important component of all.10 The use of the term
"emergent" does not mean that a middle class did not
exist until recently in Guatemala. In the nineteenth cen-
tury there were, in Guatemala City, in the larger provincial
towns, and on the larger haciendas persons who belonged
neither to an upper class nor to the laboring group. In-
cluding the more specialized artisans, foremen, and minor
governmental employees, this embryonic middle stratum
was of slight political importance, dependent as it was
on the good will of the more educated, more traveled, and
independently wealthy upper class.

Over the past half-century there has been developing a
new middle class which draws its membership not only
from the earlier middle class, but also from the local upper
class, some of the laboring groups, the independent farmers,
and even the cosmopolites. This new stratum has appeared
in many parts of the country but is strongest in the national
capital and other administrative centers. It includes local
businessmen, clerical and other semiprofessional personnel,
government employees, foremen and supervisory personnel,
skilled workers with a steady income, and, of particular
importance, many army officers and the schoolteachers.
Although the strength of the middle group is not based on
landed wealth, its members often purchase large farms as
a form of security. The desire to acquire wealth is strong
among members of this component, and government serv-
ice, the military profession, teaching (a form of govern-
ment service), and business are the chief channels for
entering this new stratum.

In some respects the emergent middle component may

10 See particularly the study by John P. Gillin, Essay One of this
volume; also Gillin's "Cultura emergente," in Integration social en Guate-
mala, cited, pp. 435-459-

248 Social Change in Latin America Today

be regarded as a successor to the local upper class. It has
taken over from it the principal functions of social control.
It supplied most of the personnel for the extragovern-
mental channels of political control which were established
under the Arevalo-Arbenz regimes. In this new function
its members have acted, not as part of a local social struc-
ture, but as cogs in a national political system, Individual
members of the "emergent middle" stratum often come
from small provincial centers but they do not necessarily
maintain close ties with their home communities as they
move up the political and social ladder.

Although it is still undergoing significant changes in
structure and outlook, the emergent middle class is a well-
established entity today, and it is active in promoting
changes in other segments of Guatemalan society. Along
with some cosmopolites, members of the emergent middle
are increasingly participating in speculative agriculture,
often using government credits and favors to help finance
their enterprises. Of greater importance, however, is the
influence which this component has had on the reshaping
of the Guatemalan body politic. It is most vocal in its
nationalism and in pressing its views on forms of govern-
ment, on issues of social justice, and on communism and
democracy. The emergent middle supplies the intellectual
leadership for the labor movement, and for the govern-
ment's programs of economic development. It staffs the
political parties, the extension services, the schools, and,
indeed, all the agencies which are actively engaged in
remaking the country.

The Independent Farmers. This group comprises those
who work for themselves on their own land, both subsist-
ence and small cash-crop farmers, as well as those who,
lacking sufficient acreage, either rent land or hire out as
laborers from time to time. This group attaches strong
values to economic independence. It clings to this inde-
pendence, or perhaps to the illusion thereof, despite the
realities of a marginal agriculture and a technology which
is not much more advanced than its native and medieval

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 249

European models. While these farmers receive some assist-
ance from the government's extension service, their in-
dependence still rests upon subsistence agriculture, not
on cash crops in which they can scarcely compete with the
large plantations and speculative entrepreneurs.

Politically, the independent farmers have never been
a very significant group. Their partial dependence upon
part-time or seasonal employment and a low level of capital
investment and returns leave little time for them to take
an interest in political activities at the national level. Some
independent farmers may hold municipal posts, but, if
some individuals among them become particularly active,
it is usually because increased wealth has enabled them to
enter the local upper class or become a part of the emer-
gent middle component. During the Arevalo-Arbenz pe-
riod, the early attempts to control the independent farmers
through political party channels had but slight success
since they were not easily swayed by mere political propa-
ganda. Later efforts through other mass organizations, such
as the land-reform committees, were more successful.

Today the independent farmer finds himself in an in-
creasingly difficult position. The development of the na-
tional economy makes the future of subsistence farming a
precarious one, even though the government and various
technical services are trying to increase the output of such
crops as corn and beans for local consumption, as well as
to diversify agricultural production so that small farms can
earn a larger cash income. Another factor of change is the
undermining of social solidarity among the small farmers.
Traditionally the subsistence farmer has coped with peak
work loads through the reciprocal exchange of labor or the
hiring of his socially equal neighbors.11 Now, with more
intensive methods of production and greater emphasis on
production for the market, this traditional way of organiz-
ing work is losing ground, with a consequent decline in
solidarity within the communities of small farmers.

11 See Adams, "Guatemala," cited, pp. 299-302.

250 Social Change in Latin America Today

One of the aims of the Castillo Armas government and
its successor has been to strengthen the independent
farmers. Programs for colonizing the Pacific piedmont, as
a means of supplementing agrarian reform, are designed
to provide the new settlers with adequate allotments of
agricultural land, together with credit and technical aid,
so that they will form a stable part of the rural population.
What this may mean for the future development of local
social controls is not entirely clear. In any case, these newly
settled independent farmers, like those less fortunate in
landed wealth and government aid, must learn to apply
many new techniques and to take many new decisions.
Inevitably, increased pressure for production will force
the less efficient independent farmers off the land and into
the rural or urban labor market.

The Mobile Rural Laborers. Within the rural labor force
two components have been distinguished, the mobile and
the stable. The distinction between the two, important in
the past, is likely to become more marked as speculative
farming expands. The difference between the two lies in
the nature of the social and residential relationships that
prevail between laborers and employers.

Stable rural labor is permanently resident on a planta-
tion. In the past this has brought with it a mutually
recognized interest of laborers and owners in the prosperity
of the farm and in the well-being of the workers. A stable
labor force has been especially typical of the coffee planta-
tions.

The situation of the mobile laborer is a very different
one, in that he seldom remains long on any one farm.
The causes of this increased mobility vary. The introduc-
tion of banana plantations led to some increase in the
stable labor force, but it also touched off a great expansion
in the numbers of mobile laborers through the wide
fluctuations in the total demand for workers. Their ranks
have been enlarged by the rapid growth of population,

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 251

typical of all of Latin America.12 In addition, many newly
acculturated Indians have left their traditional commu-
nities and have joined the uprooted labor force.

The mobile rural labor component has been particularly
susceptible to labor and radical agitation.13 Under the
Arbenz-sponsored agrarian reform, the demand for land
was pressed with special vigor by mobile laborers, even
though many of them later abandoned their new allot-
ments to move elsewhere. It was this social group that
provided the agrarian committees with forceful support in
the revolution of 1954; in the region of the southern coast,
it was the element most receptive to Communist agitation.

The Stable Rural Laborers. This component has evolved
in a somewhat different manner. It supplied the recruits
for the numerous rural labor unions which were set up
under the Arevalo-Arbenz administrations. In many areas,
however, the rural laborers clung to the older pattern of
employer-employee relations (the patron-mozo relation-
ship) with its somewhat paternalistic tradition and resisted
the interference of union organizers. Backed by the power
of the government, however, the rural labor unions finally
became established on most family-owned and corporate
farms. Through them the government set about "re-educa-
ting" the stable labor groups to demand wage increases
and improve labor conditions, and to press the employers
to submit to union demands, while stepping up its own
political propaganda with a strong emphasis on Commu-
nist and antiforeign themes. The success of this effort to
mold the rural populations into an effective political force
varied considerably, but, in general, stable laborers— except
those on government-owned farms— seemed less receptive
than mobile workers.

In the long run, however, the effects of the labor unions

12 UN Department of Social Affairs, The Population of Central Amer-
ica (including Mexico), 19 50-1 980, Population Studies no. 16, 1954.XIII.3
(New York: Author, 1954).

i3Newbold, cited.

252 Social Change in Latin America Today

on the stable labor group will probably be of far-reaching
significance. Between employer and mobile labor, social
ties and paternalism have never been so strong as between
employer and stable labor. The creation of labor unions
among mobile labor was not as drastic a step as it was
among the stable laborers. By the time the Arbenz govern-
ment was forced out and the labor unions were thrown out
with it, the former paternalistic ties of mutual interest and
custom between employer and stable labor had been so
effectively broken that it is doubtful that they will be
restored. Stable rural labor, while perhaps less susceptible
to radical doctrines, has nevertheless become aware of its
potential power, and this experience is one it is not likely
to forget. At the same time, the employers, who formerly
relied on paternalistic methods to solve most labor prob-
lems, have come to realize that the older methods will no
longer work now that their labor force is controlled from
outside the individual plantation.

The changes within both the stable and the mobile
labor segments are but a part of the general transition of
Guatemalan society. The rise in speculative cash-crop
farming among the cosmopolitan and middle groups repre-
sents in part an answer to the new labor problems, as well
as an adjustment to the demands of the world market. In
turn, this development demands large numbers of mobile
workers and makes less probable the growth in absolute
numbers of stable labor. Most plantations are refusing to
hire any more stable labor, thus forcing surplus workers
into the mobile rural and urban labor forces. The resulting
unrest among the uprooted labor groups has not been
assuaged by several nation-wide wage increases enacted over
the past fifteen years, for the higher wages have largely
been swallowed up by rising prices.

The Urban Laborers. The urban labor group has
scarcely been studied by sociologists. However, its way of
life and its general outlook are strongly influenced by its
largely rural background. This group forms a large part
of the population of Guatemala City, whose population

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 253

increased between 1893 anc^ 195° twice as fast as that of
the country as a whole.14 A large proportion of the new
city people were originally natives of small towns and rural
areas.

Politically, the urban labor force has been of greater im-
portance than its numbers would suggest. Its accessibility
to propaganda and the special importance of labor or-
ganizations among urban workers have made it easier to
establish urban than rural unions. As voting blocs and
participants in mass meetings, urban labor is easier to
control. Although organized labor went into a temporary
eclipse during the Castillo government it seems inevitable
that, as urban labor expands in numbers and influences,
more individuals drawn from its ranks will play a role in
the development of a national labor movement and in the
state bureaucracy.

THE INDIANS

Among the Mayan Indians— 53.5 per cent of Guatemala's
population in 1950— we can distinguish two major stages
of conversion to the Spanish-American way of life. One
large stratum— the "traditional Indians"— has held most
strongly to a culture and a society apart from the Ladinos.
Usually these groups speak only an Indian language. An-
other large number of Indian communities have accepted
Ladino customs, the most obvious being the supplementary
or exclusive use of the Spanish language, and these groups
we can call "modified Indians."

The degree to which Indians retain their own languages
is a crude index to the maintenance of an entire way of
life which distinguishes the Indian from his Ladino coun-
tryman. Within the category of "modified Indians," a
further distinction must be drawn between independent
farmers and farm laborers. No such distinction applies
among the traditional Indians, for they move rapidly into

14 The census of 1893 and the census of 1950 report city figures as
71,527 and 284,922, and total republic figures as 1,364,678 and 2,788,122.

254 Social Change in Latin America Today

the "modified" category as they come to depend on finding
employment at wage labor.

In Guatemala an Indian community is easily identified.
Everyone knows who are its members and who are out-
siders. Each community is organized along family and
neighborhood (barrio) lines, supplemented by the bonds of
religious fraternities or sodalities. Indian communities fall
into several physical types: compact villages of close settle-
ment; small village centers with a rural hinterland; and
scattered rural homesteads centered around what Sol Tax
has called an "empty town"— a town in which no Indians
live but which serves as a ceremonial and trading center.

The social integrity of traditional Indian communities
rests upon the continuous functioning of a political and
religious hierarchy and is reinforced by a general reliance
upon the decisions of elders in matters of community im-
portance. So long as this social structure remains intact,
the adoption of Ladino ways proceeds slowly. From time to
time, however, there may occur a series of events, usually
arising outside the community, which weakens or even
destroys the communal bonds. When this happens, there
is a general shift toward a Ladino way of life. The Indian
language may be given up, and there may be marked
changes toward adopting Ladino ways of dress and adjust-
ing to the Ladino political system. A community classified
as "traditional" in one generation may become a "modi-
fied" one in the next. When the Indian structure is on its
last legs, little more is left than a few minor religious
sodalities to distinguish Indians from Ladinos.15

The Indian communities play rather different political
roles, according to whether they are traditional or modified
and whether they are primarily made up of laborers or
independent farmers. Politically the traditional commu-

15 See Richard N. Adams, comp., Political Changes in Guatemalan
Indian Communities: A Symposium, Publication 24 of the Middle Ameri-
can Research Institute (Tulane University, New Orleans, 1957), pp. 1-54;
and "La ladinoizaci6n en Guatemala," in Integracion social en Guate-
mala, cited, pp. 213-244.

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 255

nities are of little significance precisely because they have
insulated themselves so successfully against incursions of
Ladino culture. When it comes to voting for a particular
candidate, they can usually be controlled, but they look
on politics with a certain amount of indifference.

Traditional communities begin to become politically
important as they cease to be traditional. Modified Indian
communities composed mainly of independent farmers
develop many of the political characteristics of similar
Ladino villages. Among Indians a stable rural labor force is
found principally on family-owned plantations. Mobile
Indian labor, on the other hand, can hardly be regarded
as a significant factor. An Indian who cuts his ties to his
community is rapidly Ladino-ized and absorbed into the
stratum of Ladino mobile rural labor.

The Indian rural laborers are more important in politics
than the independent Indian farmers for the same reasons
that Ladino labor makes its weight felt more than do the
independent Ladino farmers. Both laboring groups can be
reached more easily by political propaganda and can be
mustered more readily to the polls. Under the Arevalo-
Arbenz administrations, labor, acting through unions and
agrarian committees, was considerably more vocal than
were the independent farmers.

In terms of where the Indians stand today, the two sig-
nificant facts are: the distinctive pattern of their culture
and their gradual assimilation into the Ladino way of life.
In entering the general population, Indians do not form a
separate ethnic segment but are absorbed into a broader
social stratum. This process, however, is a slow one; the
total Indian population is still growing faster in absolute
numbers than it is losing individuals and communities to
the Spanish-American way of life. However, the Ladino
segment is growing even more rapidly, and at some time
in the not distant future the Indians will begin to shrink
in absolute numbers. At that stage the resistance of their
traditional way of life to Ladino-ization may decline

256 Social Change in Latin America Today

rapidly, and Guatemala may cease to be a nation of two cul-
tures.

One rather common notion holds that an Indian who
"loses his Indian heritage" becomes "deculturated," a lost
soul, receptive to any kind of propaganda. True, some
individuals who move from the status of Indian to that
of Ladino within a single lifetime may go through periods
of extreme stress, and may fall into socially aberrant forms
of behavior. However, this does not apply to the large
numbers of Indians who shift to a Ladino status while re-
maining members of their own community. For one thing,
this type of cultural change proceeds slowly. In addition,
when the change affects an entire community, the individ-
ual who changes with his own group does not feel detached
from his village or deprived of a "magnificent" Indian
heritage. In these cases the Indian heritage is, in fact, so
thoroughly lost that the entire village is unaware of what
it was once like.

The Indian population of Guatemala is not a monolithic
social bloc, resisting change and holding back the develop-
ment of the country. Rather, the Indians are increasingly
responsive to the same political issues as the Ladinos. At
the same time they tend to lose their separate Indian
identity as they enter more and more into the Ladino way
of life.

THE EURO-AMERICANS

The development of banana-growing and railroads and,
in recent years, of many small industries and large com-
mercial activities has been sponsored by foreigners and
others of recent foreign, usually European, descent. While
weak in political terms, this component exerts a considera-
ble measure of indirect influence, greater than many of the
national components. The role of foreigners has changed
perceptibly over the past three decades. Early in the cen-
tury some foreign firms (for example, the Swedish match
monopoly) were given special privileges, or special tax ex-
emptions. The 1944 revolution was followed by an upsurge

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 257

of antiforeign and particularly anti-U.S. attitudes and
policies. As far as official policy is concerned, this trend was
sharply reversed with the revolution of 1954, although
there has been no return to the fairly wide-open system
of privilege that prevailed up to 1944.

The Euro-American component is playing a variety of
roles in the process of social change within Guatemala.
Aside from an obvious interest in promoting the increased
importation of foreign products, from films to tractors, it
also exercises an important influence through the technical
assistance programs as well as through its official and un-
official influence on the administration. On the other hand,
the tendency of Euro-American groups to maintain their
identity as foreign colonies largely prevents their being
assimiliated into the national population, even though
some individual foreigners are absorbed in each genera-
tion. In this respect, the Euro-Americans resemble the cos-
mopolites, who likewise maintain closer ties with the
nationals of other countries than with other strata of
Guatemalan society.

A New Factor: The Continuous Character of Change

In Guatemala almost every major group of the popula-
tion has, as we have seen, been undergoing far-reaching
changes. Now we must look at these separate changes in a
broader framework; we must see how they are related to
each other. When we examine the process of change in
Guatemalan society as a whole, two striking features leap
to the eye. In the first place, the nation is in the throes of
changing over from a discontinuous set of regional cul-
tures to a continuously evolving and nationally centered
culture. In the second place, this change-over is being
initiated by political and social innovations, rather than
arising spontaneously out of changes in production and
technology.

The concept of continuous or open-end change is a new
one to Guatemalans, and they are far from coming to terms

258 Social Change in Latin America Today

with it. Most of them think of their past experience as
"normal" and of change as something exceptional and
limited in scope. When the Spaniards began to colonize
Guatemala, they did so under a general set of policies
formulated by the Spanish Crown. The form villages were
to take, the relationship to be established between the
Spanish conquistador and the native population, the eco-
nomic exploitation of the new land, the specific form of
local government— these and many other general and spe-
cific matters were prescribed in Spain. That the rules were
often ignored did not alter the fact that, from Spain's point
of view, the prime purpose of the conquest was to establish
colonies that would be economically useful to the mother
country. Under colonial rule the surviving Indians grad-
ually adopted Spanish ways in varying degrees and formed
more or less stable communities.

During this long period each series of changes was in
most respects discontinuous. Each new change was followed
by a new adjustment in economic and social organization;
once this had happened, a new stability set in. Over most
of history, this is the kind of change to which people have
been accustomed. If a priest succeeded in converting a com-
munity of Indians to Catholicism, the change was con-
sidered to have been accomplished, and further effort was
limited to maintaining worship as prescribed by doctrine.
If Spain needed wheat, then the job was to introduce wheat
and produce the amount that was needed by the mother
country, without attempting to spread its use among the
population of the colony. When coffee was introduced, the
trend was to set up the plantations as permanent organiza-
tions, inflexible in practices and social structure. Each of
these changes was discontinuous. In each instance, the
effort was directed, not toward achieving an infinite series
of changes, but toward introducing a specific set of prac-
tices in order to attain a predefined and limited goal. Thus
coffee plantations oriented to the world market existed
side by side with self-sufficient Indian and Ladino villages.

The discontinuous nature of change was due, in part, to

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 259

a number of circumstances that no longer prevail today.
There was plenty of land and rainfall, and population was
sparse. The commercial sector of the economy could rely
on a fairly steady demand from abroad. Of course, when
demand shifted, the readjustment was sometimes fairly
violent. Cacao, a major piedmont product in the early
nineteenth century, was displaced late in the century by
coffee. However, the general social structure, resting on a
large Indian population of independent farmers, provided
all the cheap labor required, without imposing any re-
sponsibility for its maintenance if it was no longer needed;
this made it easier for the plantation owners to shift from
one crop to another. Some areas of life reflected a tradition
of strongly paternalistic rule; in others, the Indians were
free to pursue their own economic activities. Both Guate-
mala's culture and its economy were strongly regional in
character. Each major region developed, survived, or de-
clined economically, depending on its direct relationship
with the outside market. For example, Coban, in the
northern highlands, grew into an important coffee center;
its coffee growers dealt directly with the merchants of
nearby ports, having little or nothing to do with Guatemala
City.

In the twentieth century these conditions have gradually
disappeared. Immigration and, more important, the rapid
natural increase in the population led to overcrowding on
the land in some regions. The southwest piedmont, an
important coffee region, filled up and the Ladino popula-
tion in particular grew at a phenomenal rate. The re-
maining areas of unoccupied land were scarce and isolated
from major transportation routes. After World War I,
foreign markets became less dependable, and coffee farmers
were especially hard hit by the depression of the 1930's.
As coffee prices rose before and after World War II, Tan-
ganyika, Brazil, Mexico, and other areas encroached on
Guatemala's traditional markets. More important, the
lack of suitable new areas for coffee, combined with in-
creasing labor problems, led some operators to venture

260 Social Change in Latin America Today

their capital only in speculative agriculture, thus under-
mining the traditional economic and social balance still
further.

The introduction, following the 1944 revolution, of a
labor code and labor unions, as well as welfare measures
for the general population— all this combined with political
radicalism— began to erode the social structure, based on
paternalism and cheap labor, in which coffee-farming had
developed. The substitute— speculation in quick crops such
as corn, cotton, sesame, and lemon grass— freed the en-
trepreneur of the burden of supporting a resident labor
force in good times and bad; and it offered a way around
the long-term commitments involved in coffee-growing.

By the end of World War II, Guatemala, like many
other Latin American countries, was experiencing a new
surge of nationalist ambition. Guatemala City, the political
capital, had displaced Coban and Quezaltenango as the
country's coffee capital. The expanding road system re-
flected national rather than regional needs. One sign of the
growing ease of communication within the country can be
traced in the pattern of the revolution of 1954, which was
hatched not in some outlying province but in a neighbor-
ing country behind the protective shield of a national
boundary. Improved transportation has strengthened the
role of the capital city and weakened the forces of political
regionalism.

By the mid-twentieth century change of a new, continu-
ous type was in the air, stimulated by the conjuncture of
internal events with external forces. Population was in-
creasing rapidly, in great part because of the beginnings of
a public health system. Instability in the world market,
with the now chronic precariousness of coffee-growing,
placed new strains upon the country's economy. Above all,
new concepts of social order, from Arevalo's fuzzy "spirit-
ual socialism" to communism, were propagated vigorously
after World War II by intellectuals who, returning from
long years of exile under Ubico's rule, brought with them
new ideas and new slogans, both idealistic and self-seeking.

Change in Guatemala and U.S., Policy 261

Within this general context of open-ended change, what
are the paths along which contemporary Guatemala is
evolving? How are the changes affecting its people? What
is their meaning for U.S. policy?

The Impact of " Ladino" -ization

Ladino-ization, that process by which an Indian becomes
a Spanish-American, has been going on ever since the
arrival of the C on quist adores. In the past, however, as
Spanish or other European elements of culture were intro-
duced, they were incorporated gradually into the life of
the people and thus fused with the Indian culture. Among
these transplantations were the cofradias, religious associa-
tions which were introduced in the colonial period as a
means of bringing the Indians within the orbit of the
church. Cofradias place on members of the community
certain responsibilites for sponsoring the fiesta of a saint.
Under a stable social organization, the cofradias worked
well, for each generation trained the next to accept and
carry on these duties. Similarly, new crops and domestic
animals were taken over and incorporated into the Indian
way of life. Chickens, fruit trees, flowers of European
origin, vegetables, wheat, broad beans, the machete, the
hoe, and numerous other postconquest innovations have
become embedded in the Indian way of life. The spirit
world has likewise been peopled impartially from Euro-
pean and Indian sources. When a man takes sick of a
sudden fright because his soul has been seized by the spirit
of the local mountain, prayers are offered both to the
Christian God and saints, and to the Mayan mountain
spirits, to regain his soul and ward off death.

The incorporation into the Indian culture of Spanish
and other foreign elements was possible so long as the
changes were gradual and did not threaten the Indians'
basic family and community organization. The past half-
century has seen a new type of change, one which requires
the Indian community not to incorporate new elements,

262 Social Change in Latin America Today

but to give up being Indian, to accept an ever increasing
dominance by the national political structure. The changes
demanded are no longer fixed, each with its definable and
visible goal; they are open-ended and infinitely complex.
The shift from the cofradia to a political party as a means
of organizing community life is not a simple substitution.
It involves putting an end to a fixed local and unchanging
structure in which control rests in the hands of the Indian
village elders. It creates a new structure in which fresh
demands for further change are constantly being made
from without and control is located far beyond the bounds
of the village.

The new medical practices, for example, no longer in-
volve the simple application of a well-known remedy to a
familiar ailment. They introduce all sorts of progressively
more complex changes. Milk must be drunk, blood— with
its magic connotations— must be given to medical people,
new measures obeyed, all for no clearly understood reasons.
Even the doctors, who are supposed to know so much, can-
not handle such everyday maladies as "fright" without
employing excessively long treatments, even removing the
individual from his village— a thing that of itself causes
"fright." Medicines highly recommended one year are re-
jected as dangerous the next. Thus, in the world of disease
and cure, certainty gives way to the expectation of uncer-
tainty, of continuing and unpredictable change. A similar
uncertainty enters the spirit world, as Protestant mis-
sionaries have brought new concepts and purposes, while
Catholic reformers enter the fray to combat both Protes-
tant innovations and inherited Catholic practices which
are no longer congenial to the church of today. Thus, in
one sphere after another, fixed, meaningful habits crumble
and open the way to seemingly infinite, open-ended process
of change.

The Indian culture cannot forever go on incorporating
changes of this variety and magnitude. Sooner rather than
later it is sure to break down. Political and religious de-
mands on the social organization, technical and economic

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 263

demands in agriculture and handicrafts, public health and
resettlement demands on the individual, each of these,
and all of them together, are undermining the older struc-
ture to such an extent that the Indian way of life cannot
continue indefinitely as a separate sector in the Guate-
malan society. Inevitably, the Indian half of the people
will eventually be assimiliated into a uniform Ladino
society and nation.

The Impact of Technological Change

The pattern of continuous changes through which the
Indians are being Ladino-ized has its parallel in the ex-
perience of the Ladino countrymen. The latter have also
been draw into the millrace of sequential change; the effect
on them is less startling because, unlike the Indians, they
have not previously maintained themselves as a society
apart. Nevertheless, the introduction of new crops and
fertilizers, a new religious ferment, new definitions of ill-
ness and cure, and new political organizations are also
setting in motion an endless series of adjustments for the
traditional Ladinos, whether villagers or townspeople.

In agricultural technology the new demands are espe-
cially visible, but here their impact has been slowed by
the lack of material wealth required for rapid innovation.
Extension agents have come to both cosmopolites and in-
dependent farmers in order to help them improve their
farming techniques. For the cosmopolite planter, the shift
to new ways requires a degree of personal attention that he
is often unwilling to give, and an increasing investment
in his agricultural properties that he often does not want
to make. For the independent farmer, change means ac-
quiring plows; plows require oxen; to feed oxen requires
higher production; higher productivity needs better seed;
new seed often brings new forms of plant pests and sick-
nesses; and these require still better seed and fertilizers,
and new insecticides. All this in turn requires more money
and therefore more produce to sell. And so it goes, each

264 Social Change in Latin America Today

change taking the countryman farther and farther from his
traditional subsistence farming.

Continuous change permits of no resting spells. Once
started, change begets change and demands a further series
of adjustments. Arthur Mosher has aptly described the
essence of this change in agriculture:

The opposite of traditional is "choice-making." The process
of decision-making is at a minimum in any traditional culture
or method of production. Thus, encouraging farmers to move
from traditional agriculture to progressive agriculture re-
quires the development of a wholly new habit of thinking,
a new way of living. . . . Farmers must ... be induced . . .
to shift from an attitude of tradition to one of continuous
choice-making in economic and political fields as well as in
the narrow realm of farming practices. . . .16

Among the tradition-minded components of the popu-
lation, whether Indian or Ladino, laborer or independent
farmer, few find it easy to adjust to a progressive, continu-
ous process of change. In this adjustment, there must be
some dynamic element that is converted, as it were, into
the promoter of change. Of all the components, it is the
emergent middle group that has assumed this role. It has
taken the lead in the introduction of new technologies,
new political structures, and new religious ideas. It also
provides the personnel to staff agricultural extension and
public health programs and, above all, for teaching and
government service.

The emergent middle component has responded actively
to the growing pressures for change which have been ex-
erted from within and without the society. The cosmopo-
lites had too many vested interests to assume this role of
leadership. The local upper group was limited by its
regional horizon. The subsistence farming and laboring
groups were limited in their outlook, and their widespread
illiteracy left them helpless in the realm of ideas. Within
each of these groups some individuals have found the

16 Cited, pp. 248, 249.

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 265

processes of change congenial, and have moved into occupa-
tions that were formerly open only to the older middle
class. These "new men," differing widely among them-
selves, cannot be defined as a social class; following John
Gillin's terminology, I shall speak of them as the new
"middle mass."

In the introduction of change, another factor of critical
importance has been the continuing flow of foreigners who
bring with them many new ideas. Those who come as
individuals are usually engaged in import and export trade.
Beginning many years ago with the efforts of the Rocke-
feller Foundation, and especially under U.S. and United
Nations programs, Guatemala has received increasing num-
bers of foreigners, especially North Americans, engaged in
providing technical aid.

In their role as promoters of change, technical specialists
from abroad have come face to face with the great problems
which Guatemala and its neighbors encounter in attempt-
ing to promote a continuous and interacting series of
changes in a hitherto unchanging or slowly changing
society. Resistance to innovations, they have frequently
discovered, is not confined to the traditional Indians; it
is also strong among the cosmopolite and local upper
components, as well as in the bureaucratic structure in
which the emergent middle groups play a prominent
part. While change meets with resistance everywhere, the
factor that distinguishes the new efforts at directed techni-
cal aid from earlier innovations is the attempt, at times
unrecognized by the specialists themselves, to institute an
infinite and open-ended sequence of changes rather than
merely to achieve a limited change that can then be di-
gested by the society and incorporated into its basic struc-
ture. This new type of change, which by its structural
effects brings with it many further changes, is causing the
vast "shaking up" of all segments in Guatemalan society.
What is taking place is not merely a realignment of power,
a change in the roles of social classes, or the emergence of
a new class. Instead, the entire social structure is being

266 Social Change in Latin America Today

reshaped in response to the new dynamic of continuous
change.

The Primacy of Political and Social Change

Were the changes being experienced in Guatemala only
those that usually result from introducing a progressive
technology, they would be readily comprehensible to North
Americans. However, the reshaping of the Guatemalan
way of life has another and less readily understood aspect.
Many Guatemalans are more concerned with establishing
a new social order than with bringing about basic economic
and technological changes. It is not that they are not
interested in economic change. But in comparison with
the history of Western Europe or North America during
their industrial revolutions, Guatemala and much of Latin
America are pressing for a different order of priorities.

Within North American society the process of change
has usually been generated first by technological and eco-
nomic innovations. The coming of the factory altered
earlier patterns of settlement, and the automobile changed
them again out of all recognition. The family is not the
same as it was a century ago. The fundamental structure
of our present-day social order, its occupational groups,
its political organization, and its religious activities have,
in one degree or another, been remolded by the accelerated
technological changes typical of the past two centuries. In
this process new social forms have developed and matured
—business and managerial structures, labor unions, and
numerous professional groups.

Living in the midst of the process of technological
change, North Americans of the present generation tend
to regard "machine magic" as something both inevitable
and beneficial, for others as well as themselves. This phi-
losophy makes it seem natural for them to provide less-
developed societies with technical missions to assist their
progress in public health and agriculture, in housing and
education. Although the activities of such missions will

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 267

surely have some long-term effects on Guatemalan society,
of much greater immediate importance is the fact that,
even as the first missions were getting down to work during
World War II, many Guatemalans were making up their
minds that their country could not wait for these long-run
effects to make themselves felt on what was in their eyes an
anachronistic social and economic order.

Following the overturn of 1944, many individuals who
had spent their formative years in exile returned to Guate-
mala; together with university students, they nourished
dreams of social and political reform. Some of their aims
were simply negative, directed against the existing state of
things; others looked to positive goals, variously defined.
A relatively few advocated patterns of social action copied
from other nations, and of these Soviet Russia offered the
most prominent prototype. Unlike the United States, where
technology had historically led the way to social change,
Russia has attempted the reverse; it first instituted violent
social change and then followed up with technological
progress and economic growth. In 1 944, it must be remem-
bered, opinions about Russia's path were not publicly a
source of inter-American dissension, for both the United
States and Guatemala were allied with Russia.

The leaders who emerged from these early days of fer-
ment were not so much the returned exiles as younger
men who had been university students at the time of
Ubico's fall. The turn to communism, specifically to
Russian-style communism, on the part of some of the stu-
dents was not unnatural. In their student years they had
been a special target of Communist propaganda, and they
were now searching for an answer to a fundamental and
baffling question: how can a people install a new social
order without first building a new technological base?
Uncritical approval of the Russian model, an export model
that comes packaged with written "do-it-yourself" instruc-
tions, led many young intellectuals to accept communism
as a philosophy of change, some others to look upon it as a
suggestive program from which some useful points could

268 Social Change in Latin America Today

be borrowed, and yet others to adhere to it as an infallible
blueprint for action.

Between 1944 and 1948 Guatemala City was seething
with new ideas, new experiments, new programs of action.
Increasingly, nationalism became the channel through
which ideas derived from a Russian model of social change
were being introduced. As Soviet relations with the West
deteriorated, U.S. activities in Guatemala also were on the
downgrade. The emergent middle groups were pressing
for drastic changes, while the cosmopolites, the local upper
class, and the United States became increasingly the targets
of social agitation. Only after Arbenz took over the presi-
dency in 1951, however, did a clear-cut Guatemalan Com-
munist party emerge. This marked the launching in earnest
of overtly Communist activities.

The Communist Bid for Power and Its Aftermath

For the Guatemalan Communists, the only way to intro-
duce their well-advertised model into Guatemala was to
do it radically and swiftly. Few in number, they could
not rely on the small Guatemalan army or on a large and
well-organized reservoir of supporters. While fervidly
preaching Marxist ideology in the hope of expanding and
stiffening its basic cadres, the party relied more on the
growing spirit of nationalism to "sell" its program of
change to larger segments of the people. Quite naturally,
the nationalist guise was most appropriate in Guatemala.
For nearly a century foreigners had played a dominant
role in developing the Guatemalan economy; Germans had
an important place in coffee production, and the United
States in the banana plantations. In view of Germany's
postwar eclipse, the United States was the natural scape-
goat. Ignoring the more enlightened behavior of American
business concerns in recent years, the Communists and
their allies found in their earlier policies the necessary
fuel for inflammatory agitation.

One phase of the Communists' pattern of "planned"

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 269

social change called for infiltrating their supporters into
key positions within the government. Special targets were
the Guatemalan Congress, especially the presidency of the
Congress, and the Department of Agrarian Reform, with
its extensive opportunities to influence and even dominate
the rural population. A second phase involved the setting
up of new organizations in order to gain political control
over important segments of the population, especially the
laboring and emergent middle groups. Among these organ-
izations the most effective were the labor unions of govern-
ment workers, schoolteachers and urban workers, and, of
particular importance, farm workers on family-owned and
corporate farms. In addition, the party established mass
organizations on the usual Communist pattern— for ex-
ample, a National Peace Committee, a Women's Alliance,
a Student Association— and gained control over a number
of newspapers, including the official government paper.

Operating through this expanding structure, the party
planned gradually to achieve a number of well-defined
purposes. Caught between labor code requirements and
slowdowns, strikes and excessive wage demands, farm
owners could eventually be forced into an untenable posi-
tion. Simultaneously, the agrarian reform program pro-
vided for building up a network of local agrarian
committees throughout the country. The committees,
directly patterned after Lenin's peasant Soviets, could
easily become an instrument of revolutionary rule. Of
special importance, the agrarian reform program did not
make the peasants the owners, but merely the tenants, of
their new holdings. Thus the government retained its full
control over the land even after it had been expropriated
and redistributed. Failure of the recipients to conform to
the demands of the government, and eventually of the
Communist party, would mean eviction from the long-
coveted allotments. In 1954, fearing that the army would
not support him, President Arbenz attempted to arm the
local agrarian committees and unions. With this showdown
impending, the diverse opponents of Arbenz' increasingly

270 Social Change in Latin America Today

Communist-dominated regime joined forces to overthrow
him and suppress the open and visible activities of the
Communist party.

One significant feature of the Arbenz administration is
that its policies represented an attempt to bring about
drastic social changes without first tackling the problems
of economic development. A second feature is that the
Arbenz-Communist combination enlisted widespread sup-
port in Guatemala even though much of this support was
ambivalent. Many people were not sure they liked the way
Arbenz was doing things, but they felt that this was the
only way to accomplish a great deal quickly. The belief
that Communist policies could succeed in Guatemala was
bolstered by the fact that they had succeeded in Russia.
That the program was accomplishing many of its imme-
diate purposes was confirmed by daily reports of "inva-
sions" of estates by peasants, strikes successfully carried
out, widespread expropriations, and so on. Although the
overt Communist threat has been scotched since the Cas-
tillo Armas revolution, the Arbenz period had lasting
effects on the process of social innovation. It set in motion
changes that will be felt for a long time to come.

Among its effects, the Arbenz period destroyed any
remnant of mutual interest between farm laborers and farm
owners. The paternalism of the earlier pattern persists
today mainly in the written provisions of the labor code.
The farm labor groups are now acutely aware that a new
type of relationship is possible between themselves and
the cosmopolite, local upper, and middle classes. Similarly,
the emergent middle mass is conscious of its own potential
strength, once it has been consolidated through labor
unions and similar organizations. It was the emergent
middle that generally gave dynamic impetus to the Arbenz
programs.

The elaborate forms of political control instituted by
the Arbenz government have also resulted in creating new
channels for introducing change into the Indian commu-
nities. Effective political action at the local level was

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 271

bolstered by the establishment of new foci of power within
each community. The individuals who came forward to
staff the new organizations bypassed and brushed aside the
older forms of Indian political organization in order to
reach their goals. The traditional Indian structure was not
compatible with the new political parties and agrarian
committees. Indian communities had been dominated by
a hierarchy based on age and respect for elders. Placing
young men in the newer political channels of power cut
across the older pattern of authority, which was forced to
give way. Similarly, within many Ladino communities the
local upper class lost its former dominance to the newer
political organizations.17

The result of the turbulent post- 1944 years has been
to set in motion a whole chain of social innovations.
Essentially, these changes have been spurred on by political
action, and have not been accompanied by any basic
changes in the pattern of technology and production. The
Communist-led forces showed no strong interest in the
problems of over-all economic development. Such eco-
nomic steps as were taken, notably the agrarian reform and
the opening of a highway to the Atlantic, plainly were
undertaken primarily for their political effect.

However, the events of the Arbenz period have left be-
hind some changes in the economic structure. One of these
has been the expansion of speculative agriculture. The
threatening behavior of labor under Arbenz' rule made
this type of enterprise attractive, for it relieves the entre-
preneur of any continuing responsibility of providing for
the livelihood of a permanent labor force, and offers him
mobility and a quick turnover on his investment. This
trend has also encouraged other farmers, especially in
coastal areas, to turn to mechanized methods to a degree
previously unknown. With the threat of expropriation
looming ahead, many cosmopolites had been fearful of
investing in agriculture. After Arbenz' downfall, however,

17 See Adams, Political Changes in Guatemalan Indian Communities,
cited.

272 Social Change in Latin America Today

mechanization offered the added advantage of releasing the
entrepreneur from commitments to provide for the needs
of a large and stable labor force.

As a boost for the new government of Castillo Armas,
the United Fruit Company turned over a large part of
its Pacific coast properties to the colonization program, and
similar though smaller gifts of land have been made by
other landowners. The post-1954 governments have found
it politically expedient to continue the agrarian reform
program, though on a quite different basis. Under the
new program, each land allotment becomes the outright
property of the recipient, rather than a leasehold which
can be revoked at will by the government of the day. The
program has also been strengthened by providing im-
proved credit facilities and expanding agricultural exten-
sion activities to help the new owners get on a firm footing.

The answer of technical-aid specialists to the post-Arbenz
challenge has been to push ahead with economic de-
velopment, while making a supplementary effort to pro-
mote limited social change. The colonization of farmers
in newly available coastal lands is based on a new settle-
ment pattern, similar to the individual homesteads of most
North American farmers, in contrast to the more common
Ladino pattern of the compact community, from which
the farmer goes out to his fields each day. Social change, as
a goal in itself, is still secondary for the North American
specialists and technical missions. It is still regarded as
something which must develop gradually out of changes
in the technology of production.

The Castillo Armas government had one special prob-
lem. While held publicly responsible by public opinion
for promoting and guiding social change, it did not have
the same freedom of action as the Arbenz government had
enjoyed. Committed to economic advance as well as to
social evolution, it had to tread much more cautiously in
order to satisfy a wider range of conflicting interests and
ambitions. The priority of economic development over
social change is doubtless more congenial to North Ameri-

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 273

cans. But within Guatemala the Arbenz-launched social
changes have stimulated new forces and new alignments
which North American specialists are not well equipped to
guide or even to understand. Their own sense of values,
as well as the purposes of their technical missions, make
it too easy for them to stand aside from problems of social
action.

Needed: A Dynamic Policy of Social Change

Any dealer in the international game of power poker
knows full well that the order of the deck is a major
factor in determining who wins the hand. Domestic issues,
which are frequently glossed over or inadequately under-
stood, sometimes play the determining role in shaping a
country's international behavior. In order to understand
Guatemala's conduct in international politics, the outsider
must examine objectively the social processes which are
reshaping its society. Are there means by which the United
States can better evaluate these processes so as to take more
effective account of them in shaping its policies? In posing
this question my concern is not with reviewing specific
U.S. operations in Guatemala, or criticizing the activities of
the various U.S. agencies, such as the embassy, the Inter-
national Cooperation Administration, or the U.S. Informa-
tion Agency. My concern is with a broader issue.

Since the downfall of the Arbenz regime the activities
of the United States in Guatemala show evidence of a
change in outlook and purpose. Since 1954 the newspapers
no longer have occasion to report that the American am-
bassador has insulted the president of Guatemala. U.S.
officials no longer reject even the principle of agrarian
reform as dangerous to private property and American
interests. Nor do U.S. technical-aid missions push through
their programs in the face of contrary arguments advanced
by Guatemalan officials. In the pre-Arbenz period, all
these things were happening. Many North Americans
would explain this change of approach by pointing out

274 Social Change in Latin America Today

that the Guatemalan government is no longer commu-
nistic. This, however, is at best a dubious answer and
certainly not the whole answer.

Perhaps because of the apparent threat posed to U.S.
interests and to inter-American solidarity, the events of
1950-1954 made it plain that even a small country can be
a threat when led by hostile forces, that such a drastic
change as agrarian reform need not be a threat to Ameri-
can interests, while it may be of critical importance within
the country. Fundamentally, these turbulent events made
it evident that social change was a matter of vital im-
portance to Guatemalans, so much so that some of them
were willing to convert their country into a Soviet satellite
in order to bring it about.

When more cordial relations between the two govern-
ments were resumed in 1954, the United States attempted
to adjust its policies to the lessons it had learned. Tech-
nical-aid missions were rapidly expanded and new ones
were set up, but they often languished for lack of firm
support in Washington and of local Guatemalan leadership
in setting up programs and getting them going. The flight
into exile of many people who had served under previous
governments also deprived the country of much of its ex-
perienced personnel, while many who joined in the un-
dignified scramble for spoils were not well qualified for
their new posts. The precise reasons for the lag of the
Guatemalan government or the United States since 1954
in advancing a vigorous new economic program are far
from clear. In any event, despite evidences of some change
in U.S. attitudes toward programs of social action, the
post-Arbenz attempt at a new adjustment has been far from
successful.

If we grant that there has been some change in U.S.
policy, has this gone far enough? The evidence indicates
that it has not, even though the United States has initiated
or supported a number of programs designed to answer
some immediately pressing issues. Notably, it has sup-
ported the colonization of landless peasants, the expansion

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 275

of education in rural areas, the development of urban
housing, and the strengthening of farm extension services.
The United States appears to have supported these policies
less as part of an over-all national policy than as a conces-
sion to expediency or to Guatemalan demands for attention
to politically wavering segments of the population. While
recognizing at last that social change is of great importance,
the United States is still without a definite policy for social
change. Its activities resemble uncoordinated reflexes
rather than a consciously planned and unified program of
action.

Whether we realize it or not, U.S. activities in any
foreign area are seen by the nationals of that area as a
whole, as reflections of a general policy. Russia acts on a
clear-cut policy toward other countries; the fact that its
real purposes are often camouflaged is not directly relevant.
In part as a result of Communist propaganda, the Soviet
model is attractive to many Latin Americans, for the Rus-
sians state very positively why change should take place,
what the goals of the Utopian society are, and, of course,
how to achieve them. The United States in turn can point
to itself as a country that has grown strong and prosperous
as a result of economic and social changes. However, the
rags-to-riches propaganda of the Soviet Union is more
effective just because the Russian development has taken
place so recently, while the United States seems to out-
siders always to have had an advance economic and social
system.

U.S. propaganda holds up our democracy as the model
political system, forged in blood many years ago. This way
of life assumes that every man can enjoy his independence
and that everyone benefits, though some more and some
less, from the efficient operation of the North American
variety of capitalism. Further, this progress can be achieved
by other nations if certain puritan ideals are followed, and
if education is taken seriously by all. An essential element
of the American philosophy rests on this last point: educa-
tion is essential for the democratic process, and, once edu-

276 Social Change in Latin America Today

cation for all is achieved, democracy and prosperity will
inevitably follow.

Many Latin Americans admire the United States for its
genuine achievements, but few are deluded into thinking
that the North American model of democracy can be made
to work with clocklike precision in their own countries.
Indeed, many are offended by the unspoken assumption
that a Utopian future should be so un-Latin. Their cen-
turies of Latin heritage are treasured as much by them as
our Anglo-American heritage is by us. From the viewpoint
of a Latin, whatever policy the United States may have
in the field of social change appears essentially one of mak-
ing over his country in an image close to that of the United
States. Furthermore, the politically sophisticated Latin
Americans know from their own experience that education
equips people to read Communist as well as North Ameri-
can propaganda.

If the policies of the United States are to be under-
standable and attractive in Guatemala and in other na-
tions which are undergoing basic changes in their social
order, the problem is how to identify those policies with
their own best interests. It is, however, far from simple
to define what those "best interests" are; the "best in-
terests" of the cosmopolites or the Euro-American com-
ponents in the Guatemalan population are not identical
with those of the mobile rural laborers or the Indian
laborers. From both a political and a practical point of
view, the solution is to identify U.S. policy, not with all
the conflicting desires of various groups, but with those
changes that are likely to shape the new stage of an evolv-
ing social order. In the case of Guatemala, for example, the
focus of U.S. interest, to be effective, must be on the
emergent middle class and on those changes which are
strengthening its role.

This is hardly an easy assignment. North Americans,
including officials, usually find the cosmopolites and the
Euro-Americans far more congenial than other groups.
Their customs and ways of living are more attractive to

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 277

foreigners. Because these groups do contribute importantly
to the running of the government and the economy, it is
useful, up to a point, to work closely with them. The
emergent middle mass does not offer this same attraction
in social intercourse, and its members are a hodgepodge of
many backgrounds and divergent interests. This variety
of background offers an important advantage to the United
States— the possibility of choosing those policies that will
appeal not only to a large proportion of the emergent
middle groups but also to those segments of the society
from which they spring. This last factor is of continuing
importance. For years to come the new middle class will
receive its more creative membership from the local upper,
cosmopolite, and foreign-orientated groups, but its dynamic
force is likely to stem from laboring groups and independ-
ent farmers, both modified Indian and Ladino.

The formulation of a well-defined policy for coping with
the phenomena of social change, the lack of which has been
evident in our policy toward Guatemala, also has major
relevance for U.S. activities in many other parts of the
world. The adjustment of policy to regional and national
realities is one of the daily tasks of the State Department
and other agencies of government. An even greater prob-
lem lies in the need for Americans to realize that to gain
the good will of other peoples it is necessary both to under-
stand the needs of those countries as their own spokesmen
see them and to identify the segments of the population
that produce these leaders and shape their outlook.

It is, of course, beyond the scope of one essay or many
essays to lay down a policy by which the United States can
identify itself with the emerging populations and classes
in all or several parts of the world. Nevertheless the case
of Guatemala may offer a few helpful suggestions, for its
recent experiences make it clear that the new factor which
is reshaping Guatemalan society is the novel process of con-
tinuous or open-ended change, and that Guatemalans have
manifested a strong interest in strengthening their nation
through political and social action. Communism, though

278 Social Change in Latin America Today

fundamentally hostile to nationalism, has often mobilized
wide support by identifying many of its short-run purposes
with those of the national interest. There is certainly no
reason why the United States cannot succeed even better in
this, by making it clear that its policies are designed to
support the development of national strength and self-
respect.

Instead of boasting of U.S. achievements by lectures,
posters, movies, and news accounts, the United States
could emphasize the ways in which it is helping Guate-
malans to achieve their own national goals and to build
an integrated nation with the very tools the United States
is offering: economic development, education, improved
public health and housing, and so forth. Of course such a
change in approach would require making over the usual
outlook and habits of some American personnel abroad.
Some would have to discard the practice of looking down
on the people of the country and refusing to learn about
their history.

Programs of assistance should allow for points of na-
tional pride. Whether or not they are desirable from the
standpoint of economic development, some projects mean
more than others to Guatemalans. An example of this was
the completion of the highway to the Atlantic. The recog-
nition of national pride would involve a greater empha-
sis on the exchange of Guatemalan nationals with those of
the United States in the field of intellectual and artistic
activities. The sponsoring of Guatemalan intellectuals at
American centers of learning, not just for a month's quick
trip but for a full semester or two, can have great long-run
benefits for both countries.

Perhaps the basic element is the public recognition and
encouragement by Americans, both as individuals and as a
community, of Guatemalan national aspirations. Such pub-
lic recognition obviously implies a respect for qualities of
the Guatemalan culture. A constant stressing of Amer-
ican political stability, for example, is neither a convinc-
ing nor an ingratiating argument to offer Latins. They

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 279

are aware of this stability; if it were readily transferable,
they might have imported it long ago. Similarly, the char-
acteristically hierarchical, somewhat authoritarian and
paternalistic patterns of Latin American governments need
not be compared unfavorably with the more decentralized
North American system. For a foreign country, concerned
with promoting its own political stability and economic
development, it is hard to comprehend why an important
bill may be put off for a year or more by the U.S. Congress
because of a filibuster. Whether or not Americans believe
that some aspects of Guatemalan culture are superior to
their own, Guatemalans, in any case, believe this. And they
know that their future will be cast in a mold of their own,
not in that of the United States.

U.S. policy can be strengthened by giving greater recog-
nition to Guatemala's place within Central America. The
history of Guatemala has always been influenced by what
happens in the neighboring countries of the isthmus. Its
small size, a disadvantage in terms of economic develop-
ment, can in considerable measure be offset by promoting
more effective cooperation between it and its neighbors.
Central American regional specialization is just starting,18
but it has long been regarded as a promising line of de-
velopment. The cheek-by-jowl proximity of the Central
American countries provides special opportunities for the
joint development of regional facilities and programs.
Such a regional program of development has been consid-
ered by foreign-aid officials, but it has not been publicly
approved as a national policy.

In much of Latin America, one of the recurring irrita-
tions centers on the emphasis on the role of U.S. business.
To couch U.S. foreign policy primarily in terms of pro-
moting U.S. business interests is as sure a way of losing
friends and alienating people south of the border as could
be devised. The question is not whether big business can
and should play an effective role in development. In Latin

18 See Hoselitz, cited.

280 Social Change in Latin America Today

America, big business is the symbol of exploitation for
leftist and nationalist leaders, and this symbol has con-
siderable reality behind it in any review of the last half-
century. Furthermore, in many parts of Latin America big
business is mainly foreign-owned business. The issue is not
one of discouraging business from moving to Latin Amer-
ica, but to encourage business leaders to face up to the
political and social realities of Latin America and to show
foresight in adapting their plans and operations to them,
rather than to depend on U.S. influence in solving their
local problems. A foreign policy must represent an inter-
action between sovereign states, not merely a projection
of the desires of one country or of some segments within
it. If the United States is not strong enough politically
and economically to place its national foreign policy above
the pressures of particular business interests, then it is
perilously close to forfeiting its right to be called a nation.

Among all social groups in Guatemala, it is the urban
and mobile rural laborers who have felt most directly the
impact of North American business practices, and it is
among them that leftist agitation and organizations were
most successful during the Arbenz regime. The laborers
of the wholly foreign-owned railroad and fruit plantations
were the target of unremitting leftist efforts, and their
favorable response was most vehement. A more promising
type of business enterprise, which brings greater satisfac-
tion to national pride, is one that provides for participa-
tion by local capital and ownership. And if local ownership
draws into partnership a portion of the growing middle
class, this may create a really significant commitment by
this class to the capitalist system.

Americans would like to feel that the broad goals of U.S.
foreign policy, the expansion of freedom and opportunity
for all, are shared by most Latin Americans. One way of
helping Latin Americans to understand these purposes
better is to encourage a wider sharing of experiences with
each other. For example, a new venture which has suc-
ceeded in one Latin American country may be worth

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 281

testing in another. Mexico, Brazil, Venezuela, Chile, and
El Salvador all offer case studies in development which can
be useful to other countries. Some interchanges of ideas
and experience between countries have taken place, as in
the case of the improved farming methods and extension
services developed in Mexico and the farmer education
center at Turrialba, Costa Rica, but much more could be
done. In its programs the United States also could profit-
ably employ well-qualified nationals of other countries
instead of drawing its personnel solely from American insti-
tutions. This raises a number of problems of administra-
tion, but none of them is insurmountable. This practice
has been adopted on a small scale, but it has not become
a part of policy.

Only a dynamic policy concerned with guiding the move-
ment of social change into constructive channels, a policy
that provides a model of ideas and a focus of aspirations, can
compete effectively with the promises held out by Commu-
nist propaganda. But to enlist the cooperation of the coun-
try to which it is directed, it must be based on a recognition
of that country's basic values as well as its specific features
and problems. In formulating a long-range policy of mod-
ernization, social scientists have an essential contribution
to make. Their insights can help the diplomats and tech-
nicians in many ways. For example, over the past decade
or more U.S. policies have frequently failed to reach
politically crucial elements of the Guatemalan population,
or to take account of their interpretations of the changes
which they are experiencing. If in 1945 the United States
had had a clear-cut policy defining the positive role it
could play in aiding Latin America through a period of
many changes, it might have foreseen and averted the
extreme anti-United States developments of the late 1940's,
based as they were on the growing popularity of Commu-
nist doctrine and action in middle-mass circles and among
laboring groups.

Today the Good Neighbor era is over. The United States
and the Latin American countries are, in fact, neighbors,

282 Social Change in Latin America. Today

and whether the adjective "good" can be applied to that
relationship depends upon with whom one is speaking.
The stable and mobile laboring groups know little of the
United States; when they come into contact with North
Americans, it is usually through a weekly pay envelope or
the lurid posters of nationalist or leftist-inspired anti-
Americanism. The traditional Indians see us either not
at all or perhaps as quaint tourists who, for unfathomable
reasons, come to stare at them or purchase some item of
Indian clothing. Urban laborers are familiar with many of
the machines that come from the United States. The auto-
mobiles are flashy, the radios entertaining, the television
visible through the window of a bar or a store; but these,
as something unobtainable, carry no politically convincing
argument. Like literacy, the automobile and radio can
serve any brand of politician. The urban laborer, like his
rural cousin, is also subjected to persistent propaganda
against the "imperialist" designs of the United States and
the "menace" of its economic policies to his welfare. The
laborer sees the face of the Linked States in several
profiles, and he admires, envies, and sometimes hates us
for these glimpses.

When we look at the publicized slogans of U.S. policy
in Latin America, it is not clear to whom they are directed.
"Good Neighbors," "Good Partners," "People's Capital-
ism," even "Hemispheric Security" are remote concepts
to most of the people who hear them; they are meaningless
to those who know that partners must be equals, that capi-
talism requires capital, and that international security in-
volves some restrictions of choice. The people whom it is
most important to convince of the positive values of U.S.
policy— the emergent middle mass— see things in terms of
the daily changes they are witnessing. To reach people who
are experiencing rapid social change, the United States
needs a dynamic and progressive policy, one which ex-
presses a positive interest in the new social world that is
emerging. When we cooperate with other nations, we do
not expect the French to become less French, the Indians

Change in Guatemala and U.S. Policy 283

less proud of India's distinctive role, or even the Egyptians
to be less Arab. Yet, inadvertently or intentionally, we
often convey the impression that Guatemalans and other
Latin Americans ought to seek a gringo Utopia. This im-
pression has been created partly by positive actions, but
perhaps more by a failure to define and follow through a
policy toward social change that would demonstrate a gen-
uine interest in and respect for the values which are
cherished by the Latins themselves.

The future of the free world will depend on the real
and not imagined relationships that exist among its mem-
bers. As recent histories of Korea and Egypt, Israel, Indo-
China, Cuba, and Guatemala have clearly indicated, events
in small countries can be as crucial to peace as in the
big ones, and a policy can be as disastrous when it fails to
take account of their aspirations as when it disregards those
of the major powers. Guatemala, one of the smaller Latin
American republics, may indeed not attract the concen-
trated attention of U.S. foreign-policy planners. It would
be a mistake, however, to assume that Guatemalans are a
whit less ambitious to develop their country now than they
were under the Arevalo and Arbenz administrations.

The United States has failed twice, once after World
War II and again after the 1 954 revolution, to understand
the purport and direction of the changes that are under
way in Guatemala and elsewhere in Latin America. It has
failed to formulate a policy on social change that would
carry conviction to the emerging leaders and measure up
to the changes that are being experienced by major seg-
ments of the population. If we want to define and apply
an effective policy on social change— and it is still not too
late to do this— we must realize that in a country like
Guatemala people do not see their problems solely in terms
of technological aid and economic development. They are
intimately involved in the painful emergence of a new
society with its new sources of power. The United States
must recognize the impact of these social and political

284 Social Change in Latin America Today

developments and make this recognition an important
factor in shaping its foreign policy. If it fails to do so, it
may see the leadership over the forces of change gathered
into other and hostile hands.

Six

MEXICO SINCE CARDENAS
by Oscar Lewis

The year 1940 is a particularly convenient bench mark for
the study of social and economic change in Mexico. The
last year of the Cardenas administration, it marks the end
of the distinctively agrarian and revolutionary phase of the
Mexican Revolution and the beginning of a new phase,
which some have called the "industrial revolution" and
others "a shift to the right." 1 During the preceding thirty
years, after 1910, the primary emphasis had been upon

I wrote this paper in 1956 as a Guggenheim Fellow in Mexico, where
I was studying the process of urbanization. Many of the statistics have
since been brought up to date, thanks to the generous assistance of Helena
Stalson and William Diebold, Jr. An earlier version of this paper appeared
in "Mexico desde 1940," Investigacidn Economica, 2d Quarter 1958, pp.
185-256. I am grateful to the Guggenheim Foundation for making this
study possible. I am also grateful to Professor Bert F. Hoselitz of the
University of Chicago for his critical reading of this manuscript and to
my research assistant William H. Holland for his help in collecting some
of the data.

1 The Mexican economist, Manuel German Parra, in his book, La in-
dustrializacidn de Mexico (Mexico City: Imp. Universitaria, 1954), writes:
"The agrarian revolution and the industrial revolution in Mexico are
not two opposed facts, but rather, two aspects of a single phenomenon.
The agrarian revolution had the objective of destroying the feudal and
slave system under which the country was living, in order to establish
capitalism. The objective of the industrial revolution is to establish the
capitalist regime throughout the length and breadth of the country"
(p. 187). For the turn to the right, see Sanford A. Mosk, The Industrial
Revolution in Mexico (Berkeley: University of. California Press, 1950).

285

286 Social Change in Latin America Today

basic institutional changes, the remaking of a semifeudal
agrarian economy, the breaking up of large landholdings,
the distribution of land to the peasants, the establishment
of communal villages, or ejidos, the strengthening of the
power of organized labor, the reduction of foreign parti-
cipation in and control over the economy, the emancipa-
tion of the Indians, and the spread of public education.
The basic objective was to improve the lot of the common
man.

Beginning with the Camacho administration in 1940, a
new emphasis began to make itself felt. The tempo of so-
cial change and land distribution was slowed down appre-
ciably. Industrialization and increased production became
the immediate national goal, and foreign investment was
encouraged by the government. "Less attention has been
given in recent years to how the pie is sliced, and more
emphasis is being put on producing a bigger pie." 2

Closely paralleling this shift in governmental emphasis
has been the increasing influence of the United States in
Mexican life. Never before in the long history of U.S.-
Mexican relations has there been such a varied and intense
interaction between the two countries. The close coopera-
tion during World War II, the rapid tempo of U.S. invest-
ment, the remarkable influx of U.S. tourists into Mexico
and of Mexican visitors to the United States, the annual
migration of several hundred thousand Mexican agri-
cultural workers to the United States, the exchange of
students, technicians, and professors, and the increasing
number of Mexicans who are becoming U.S. citizens, have
made for a new type of relationship between the two coun-
tries. What is the meaning of these major social, economic,
and cultural changes which have been taking place in
Mexico since 1940, and what are their implications for the
United States and its foreign policy?

2 James G. Maddox, The Growth of the Mexican Economy, report by
the American Universities Field Staff (New York, June 1956), p. 3. This
excellent study will be referred to hereafter as Maddox.

Mexico Since Cardenas 287

Population Growth and Urbanization

Since 1940 Mexico has experienced an unusually rapid
rate of population increase, accompanied by a surge of ur-
banization.3 Today, Mexico has one of the most rapidly
growing populations in the world. This new trend is all
the more remarkable because of its traditionally slow rate
of growth and its large excess of emigrants over immi-
grants.

From 19.6 million in 1940, Mexico's population grew to
25.7 million in 1950; the estimate for i960 is about 33.8
million. Between 1940 and 1950 the average annual rate of
increase was 3.1 per cent as compared to 1.9 per cent for
the previous decade. In absolute figures the increase from
1940 to 1950 was 6.1 million, more than the total increase
in the previous twenty years and twice that of 1930-1940.
The predominantly non-Indian regions of the north Pa-
cific states and the north showed the highest rates of in-
crease, urban and rural; the lowest rates were in the areas
of greatest Indian concentration— the south Pacific states
and the Gulf states.4 Between 1950 and 1957 the rate of
annual increase fell slightly, to 2.83 per cent, but in these
years another 5.6 million Mexicans were added to the pop-
ulation.

The major source of population growth is the persist-
ently high birth rate, 45.1 per thousand for the period
1946-1950 and 46.9 for 1957, combined with a sharp drop
in the death rate as modern medicine and national health
campaigns have reached more and more of the rural popu-
lation. Some observers also stress the improvement of the
general level of nutrition as an important contributing
factor, pointing to this as one of the positive achievements
of the Mexican Revolution.5 In any case, the over-all death

3 See Julio Duran Ochoa, Poblacion (Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura
Econ6mica, 1955); also Floyd Dotson and Lilian O. Dotson, "Urban Cen-
tralization in Mexico," Rural Sociology, March 1956, pp. 41-49.

4 Duran, cited, p. 197.

5 German Parxa, cited, p. 112. Population estimates for Mexico in 1980,
as made by Luis J. Ducoff, range from a medium estimate of 53,309

288 Social Change in Latin America Today

rate dropped from 23.2 per thousand in 1940 to 16.2 in
1950, and to 12.9 by 1957. Infant mortality dropped even
more sharply, from 125.7 Per thousand in 1940 to 96.2 in
1950, and to an all-time low of 70.9 in 1956; in 1957 it was
79.1. The drop in the infant mortality rate from 1940 to
1950 was about five times greater than that between 1930
and 1940.6

As people have moved to the cities, the urban popula-
tion has grown much more rapidly than the rural popula-
tion. From 1940 to 1950 the average annual rate of
increase of the urban population, as defined in the census,
amounted to 5.9 per cent, compared to 1.6 for the rural
areas.7 During the same period the number of localities
with a population of over 10,000 rose from 97 to 159, an
increase of 62 per cent. In general, the larger cities have
tended to grow more rapidly. The growth of Mexico City
has been amazing— from about 1.4 million in 1940 to 2.2
million in 1950 and to an estimated 4 million in 1958. In
that year Mexico City had nearly 13 per cent of the total
population of the country as compared to 7.4 per cent in
1940 and 8.7 per cent in 1950. It is now the largest city of
Latin America, and the second ranking city on the North
American continent.

The increasing concentration of people in the large
cities is due more to the growing population pressure on

million to a high of 61,794 million. See Gilberto Loya, "La poblaci6n de
Mexico, 1950-1980," p. 29, reprinted from Investigacidn Econdmica, 1st
Quarter, i960.

6 Mexico, Secretaria de Economia, Anuario estadistico de los Estados
Unidos Mexicanos (Mexico City: Author, 1954), p. 115; and Duran, cited,
p. 120.

7 Duran, cited, p. 208. Duran follows the Mexican census definition
of "urban" as referring to communities of over 2,500. Nathan L. Whetten's
definition (Rural Mexico [University of Chicago Press, 1948], pp. 34-36) of
urban communities as those of over 10,000 seems more realistic and, of
course, gives a very different set of figures. According to the Mexican
census definition, Mexico was 33.5 per cent urban in 1940 and 42.6 per
cent urban in 1950. According to Whetten's definition, Mexico was 21.9
per cent urban in 1940 and 28.9 per cent urban in 1950. The proportion
of the population residing in localities of over 25,000 rose from 16.8 per
cent in 1940 to 22.5 per cent in 1950.

Mexico Since Cardenas 289

the land than to the attractions of urban life. Despite the
expansion of Mexican agriculture since 1940, the rate at
which new land is being brought under cultivation still
lags far behind the rate of population increase. As might
be expected, the heaviest migration from the land has oc-
curred in the central states, where population density is
greatest and improvements in agriculture have been
fewest.

Another important factor has been the growth of indus-
try, mostly concentrated in or near large urban areas. In
Mexico, as in other underdeveloped countries, the cities are
the major providers for industry's needs of skilled labor,
technicians, adequate utilities, and transportation facili-
ties. The concentration of the political and administrative
bureaucracy in the cities provides a further incentive for
the growth of industry. To the rural migrants the city of-
fers the hope of better employment opportunities, better
educational facilities, greater material conveniences, and a
generally higher standard of living.

Despite the growth of its cities, Mexico remains a pre-
ponderantly rural country. In 1950, over 70 per cent of its
people lived in communities of 10,000 or less, 65.4 per
cent in communities of 5,000 or less.8 Although the per-
centage of the total gainfully employed population en-
gaged in agriculture dropped from 65.4 to 58.3 between
1940 and 1950, it did not decline further during the i95o's,
and farming remains the basic occupation.

Mexico's Indian Population

Between 1940 and 1950 the Indian population, denned
on a basis of languages spoken, decreased from 14.9 per
cent to 11.5 per cent of the total. The number of persons
speaking only an Indian language dropped from 1,237,018
in 1940 to 795,069 in 1950, a 35 per cent decrease. The
number of persons speaking both Spanish and an Indian

8 In 1940, 78.1 per cent of the population lived in communities of
10,000 or less, and 72.5 per cent in communities of 5,000 or less.

2 go Social Change in Latin America Today

language increased from 1,235,891 to 1,652,540. Mexicans
who previously spoke only an Indian language are becom-
ing bilingual more rapidly than those who speak both an
Indian language and Spanish are losing their native idiom.
So long as there remains a sizable population speaking only
an Indian language, the number of persons speaking both
languages will continue to increase. If the rates of the
1940's continue few Mexicans will speak only an Indian
language by the year 2000. Only afterwards will the bi-
lingual population decrease.9

In terms of geography, the Indian problem is a limited
and regional one. In 1950, 86 per cent of all persons speak-
ing only an Indian language were concentrated in four
southern states (Yucatan, Chiapas, Oaxaca, Guerrero) and
three central states (Puebla, Veracruz, Hidalgo). In eleven
states from 12 to 63 per cent of the population was bilin-
gual.

The importance of the Indians is far greater than their
relatively small numbers suggest. The Indian is a symbol
of oppression, and the redemption of the Indian has been
a major aim of the Mexican Revolution. In sentiment,
most Mexicans identify their nation with the Indian rather
than the Spanish heritage. Cuauhtemoc has displaced Las
Casas as a symbol of the Indian's defender. This feeling
was officially consecrated by the Mexican Congress in a
decree of October 10, 1949, whose first article reads: "We
hereby express categorically . . . that the heroic figure of
Cuauhtemoc is the symbol of our nationality and there-
fore deserves the sincere devotion of the Mexican peo-
ple." 10 This decree reflected the popular enthusiasm that
followed the alleged discovery, about 1948, of the bones of

9 In estimating the Indian population, I have added 142,919 children
under the age of six to the 795,069 persons who spoke only Indian lan-
guages in 1950, making a total of 937,988 persons. Similarly, in estimating
the total number of persons speaking both an Indian language and
Spanish, I have added 307,740 children to the number 1,652,540, giving a
total of 1,960,280 bilinguals.

1° Jose E. Iturriaga, La estructura social y cultural de Mexico (Mexico
City: Fondo de Cultura Econ6mica, 1951), p. 228.

Mexico Since Cardenas 291

the last Aztec emperor, "an enthusiasm which has not yet
cooled, even after the official declaration that the remains
were not really those of Cuauhtemoc." u

Even Mexican psychiatrists reflect the Indianist bias
with their idealized characterizations of the Indian mother
as the apogee of maternity, and the Spanish-colonial
woman as cold and rejecting.12 Widespread Mexican hos-
tility toward the Spaniard, and by generalization toward
most foreigners, is explained by the psychiatrists as hos-
tility against the absent father figure.13 The Spaniard is
still the symbol of the oppressor, and no statues of Cortes
are allowed in the country.

Immigration, Emigration, and the
"Bracero" Movement

Population pressure on poor and limited agricultural
resources, combined with employment opportunities in
the United States, has made Mexico a country of emigra-
tion since the beginning of the century. Immigration, on
the other hand, has been very small. At no time in the last
sixty years has the foreign-born population of the country
been over one per cent of the total. From 1939 to 1951 only
about 8.6 per cent of those entering Mexico with the de-
clared intention of establishing permanent residence
stayed on.14 However, the number of U.S. citizens residing
in Mexico has increased from about 10,000 in 1940, to
32,000 in 1953, to 48,500 in 1956.

Legal Mexican emigration to the United States has in-
creased steadily in the last few decades. From 1931 to 1940,
an annual average of 2,200 Mexican nationals entered the
United States for permanent residence. Between 1940 and
1950 the number increased to 6,000, and by 1955 it had

11 Same.

12 Santiago Ramirez, "Estructura psicol6gica del mexicano," Revista de
Cultura y Letras Potosina, no. 115, 1952.

13 Same.

14 Duran, cited, p. 172.

292 Social Change in Latin America Today

jumped to 6i,368.15 The desire of so many Mexicans to
leave their country is a blow to national pride, and their
exodus at a time when the economy is apparently booming
suggests that the prosperity does not extend far down the
socio-economic ladder.

Increasing numbers of Mexicans have come to the
United States as braceros (temporary agricultural work-
ers). From 1955 through 1958 about 400,000 a year crossed
the Rio Grande, perhaps four times as many as the average
of the 1940's. Of the million and a half braceros who en-
tered the United States legally between 1942 and 1955,16
nine-tenths came from the central and northern regions
of Mexico, with eight states, Coahuila, Chihuahua, Du-
rango, Zacatecas, Guanajuato, the Federal District, Jalisco,
and Michoacan, contributing about 80 per cent. Most of
the braceros are young, unmarried, and landless. A study
made in 1946 found their age range to be from fifteen to
forty-nine, with over 80 per cent of them twenty-nine years
old or less, and 70 per cent twenty-one years or less.17

The bracer o movement has been of great importance for
the Mexican economy in providing a source of income for
the landless and for other poor sectors of the agricultural
population. Also, it has considerably lessened the chronic
under- and unemployment of rural Mexico, thereby serv-
ing as a partial, though temporary and inadequate, solu-
tion of the agrarian problem. In the central region from

15 Charles G. Sommer, A Study of the Increase in Mexican Immigration
to the U.S., U.S. Embassy Report (Mexico City, 1956), p. 14.

16 The million and a half figure is based on data supplied by the
Mexican Department of Statistics. The illegal "wetback" movement
reached very high proportions during the fifties. In the three years 1953-
2955' 1-7 million Mexican aliens were arrested by the border patrol in
Operation Wetback. and returned to Mexico. In addition, unknown thou-
sands left the country voluntarily to avoid arrest. See Gertrude D. Krichef-
sky, "Importation of Alien Laborers," / and N Reporter (U.S. Department
of Justice), July 1956, pp. 4-9. In 1956-1958 over a million and a quarter
braceros came into the United States legally.

17 Luis Argoytia, Guillermo Martinez, and Luis Fernandez del Campo,
Los braceros (Mexico City: Secretaria del Trabajo y Previsi6n Social, 1946),
pp. 87-91, cited in Proceso ocupacional (Mexico City: Camara Nacional de
la Industria de Transformation, 1956), p. 132.

Mexico Since Cardenas 293

which the bulk of the bracer os have come, traditional agri-
cultural practices prevail and government efforts at irriga-
tion, mechanization, and the distribution of land to the
landless have been at a minimum. In other words, those
sectors of the rural population which would otherwise
have been abandoned to their own resources have turned
to bracerismo for relief. But for this safety valve, the gov-
ernment's heavy emphasis upon industrialization since
1940 might have been accompanied by considerable un-
rest in the countryside. Were the United States suddenly
to close its borders to the braceros, a major crisis would
probably follow in Mexico.

As a cultural influence, the bracero movement has some-
what broadened the perspective of the Mexican rural pop-
ulation. Over a million and a half rural Mexicans from
thousands of villages have seen some parts of the United
States. Even in some of the most isolated hamlets in Mex-
ico, an American may be greeted with a few words of Eng-
lish by peasants who feel a bond with the visitor because
they have been in his country. Unfortunately, the rich
potential for better understanding between Mexico and
the United States has not been developed because of the
conditions under which braceros work and live in the
United States. Most braceros are isolated in work camps
or on farms, speak no English, live on a Mexican diet, and
on the whole learn very little about the United States and
its way of life. Very few learn agricultural skills that can
be applied in their own villages.

Often the braceros return to their villages only to rest
for a few months before setting out for another period in
the United States. The effect of this pattern on local agri-
culture is interesting. Villages like Tepoztlan, which suf-
fered from an acute land shortage in the mid-1940's, in ten
years developed a shortage of manpower, and many milpas
go uncultivated because men have gone to the United
States as braceros (approximately 500 in 1951-1955).

The braceros have been sending home more than 30

294 Social Change in Latin America Today

million dollars a year, a very large sum in Mexican pesos.18
Judging from my restudy of Tepoztlan (1951) the braceros
are investing their money wisely. Most of them have made
improvements in their houses and have bought land and
cattle. Many have brought home portable battery radios,
mechanical toys, clothing, and U.S. cloth. The village now
has four full-time tailors who are kept busy providing
tailor-made pants for the peasants.

In the light of frequent reports on the poor treatment
and bad living conditions of braceros in the United States,
the findings of the study of Tepoztlan are interesting. In
interviews with fifty braceros we found practically no com-
plaints about their treatment in the United States. The
few complaints that could be elicited were about overseers
who were either Filipinos or Japanese. The general reac-
tion reflected satisfaction with the experience and the hope
that they could go back to stay for longer periods.

Culture Change and U.S. Influence

Most marked in large cities, U.S. influence has also been
felt in rural areas. The proximity of the United States,
improved means of communication and transportation, the
power and prestige of the United States as a great indus-
trial civilization, and the growth of a Mexican middle class
that models itself after its northern counterpart, are largely
responsible for this change. The mighty wave of "Ameri-
canisms," mostly related to an improved standard of liv-
ing, has advanced unresisted except by a few intellectuals,
nationalists, anti-gringos, Mexican businessmen, and iso-
lated Indians.19

18 Banco de Mexico, Asamblea general ordinaria de accionistas (Mexico
City: Author, various years). From 1953 through 1958 the average annual
remittances of braceros were $32 million, a sum equal to 4.5 or 5 per cent
of Mexico's merchandise exports in most of these years.

19 A study of the image of the United States held by the Mexican
child found that Mexican school children, when asked to choose some
nationality other than their own, showed a preference for U.S. over
Spanish, French, Italian, and German. Forty-two per cent of the boys

Mexico Since Cardenas 295

It is difficult to say how much of the change is due to
direct U.S. influences, and how much is a natural con-
comitant of a developing, twentieth-century, industrial,
urban civilization. Both processes have been occurring
simultaneously and have been mutually reinforcing. Mod-
ern French, Spanish, German, or British influence, once
more important than that of the United States, is today
scarcely detectable. Italian influence has grown but re-
mains minor. The countries of Central and South America
have remarkably little influence on the economic and cul-
tural life of Mexico. It cannot be doubted that much of
the modernization has a specifically North American
stamp.

U.S. citizens are now the largest single group of foreign-
ers residing in the country. About 15,000 U.S. businessmen
live and work in Mexico, attracted by its good investment
opportunities, cheap living, and excellent climate.20 In-
creasing numbers of foreigners are coming to Mexico as
tourists, and a large number of these are North Americans.
Annually more than 500,000 U.S. tourists appear, not only
in the expensive hotels and resorts, but also in market
towns, villages, and other out-of-the-way places. This great
tourist trade has led to the establishment of modern hotels
and motels, American-style restaurants, curio shops, tourist
agencies and guide services, and special transport lines.
The folk art, music, and dance of Mexico have been ex-
ploited and commercialized; celebrations which are sup-
posedly "folk" or religious are advertised in advance and
used to attract tourists. The consequences for the Mexican
economy have been significant. In recent years tourist
spending has averaged about 70 per cent of Mexican

and 29.4 per cent of the girls chose U.S. nationality. When asked simply
whether they would like to be North Americans, 57.6 per cent of boys
and 67.0 per cent of the girls answered affirmatively. (Paper presented at
the Third Inter-American Psychological Congress, Austin, Texas, Decem-
ber 1955, by the Mexican Branch of the Inter- American Psychological
Society.)

20 Daniel Seligman, "The Maddening, Promising Mexican Market,"
Fortune, January 1956, p. 103.

296 Social Change in Latin America Today

merchandise exports. "There is no doubt," says the UN
Economic Commission for Latin America, "that . . . bal-
ance-of -payments difficulties were less acute in Mexico than
elsewhere in Latin America largely because of the addi-
tional exchange resources provided by foreign travel." 21

Advertisements, more than any other one thing, an-
nounce U.S. influence. "Everywhere signs proclaim U.S.
companies: General Motors, Singer, Goodrich, Studebaker,
RCA, Eastman Kodak— only the corporate suffix 'S.A.'
(for Sociedad Anonima) attests plainly that the locale is
other than Rahway, N.J." 22 Large-scale advertising ar-
rived with recent U.S. investments, and advertisements in
newspapers, radio, and television have a decidedly U.S.
flavor. The major television programs are sponsored by
foreign-controlled companies like Nestle, Coca-Cola, Gen-
eral Motors, Proctor and Gamble, and Colgate. Only the
use of the Spanish language and of Mexican artists dis-
tinguishes the commercials from those of the United States.
On the Quaker Oats program one hears the Mexican light-
weight idol, Raton (the mouse) Macias recommend Quaker
Oats as "the cereal of champions." Some commercials do
not even trouble to translate phrases and have spread
American linguistic forms or pochismos. Thus, beauty
products are announced as "Touch and Glow," "Bright
and Clear," and so forth.

A Mexican anthropologist, analyzing U.S. influence as
seen in newspapers, writes as follows:

About 50 per cent of the total number of pages in the news-
paper indicate the dependence of both the newspaper and

21 Economic Survey of Latin America, 1957, 58.II.G.1 (New York: UN
Department of Economic and Social Affairs, 1959), p. 69. The statement
refers to the previous decade. According to this source, Mexico's gross
earnings from tourism grew 20 per cent a year from 1946 to 1957. Mexi-
can figures show a 272 per cent increase in annual expenditures of all
tourists from 1946 to 1958. U.S. government figures for American tourists
alone show only a 155 per cent increase, but this is almost certainly
understated and does not include some visits (e.g., those of less than
forty-eight hours).

22 Seligman, cited, p. 103.

Mexico Since Cardenas 297

the readers on U.S. civilization for information and direction
of public opinion, concepts of life, family conduct, health,
child-training, recreation, transportation, travel, writing,
forms of graphic expression, individual and national econ-
omy, domestic, office and factory equipment, and finally, the
direction of interest in other people's business.23

Mexican newspapers use Associated Press and United
Press bulletins as well as U.S. syndicated news, gossip and
advice columns, and comics. In addition, the U.S. Embassy
in Mexico publishes two four-page newspapers, Gaceta de
la Semana and Suplemento Semanal, which are distributed
free of charge to several hundred small newspapers in the
country.

With the increase of wealth and the improvement of
transportation facilities, Mexicans have traveled abroad in
large numbers. The touring has shifted from Europe to
the United States. There has been a great increase in
spending abroad— from 64 million dollars in 1946 to 247
million in 1958. Domestic travel, also, has increased and
changed in character, especially among the middle class.

. . . Mexican tourism . . . has consigned to history the Sunday
custom of baths, going to the market, going to mass, drinking
in the cantinas and pulquerias, and going on picnics to nearby
country spots, all of which could be accomplished without
great effort and without complicated means of transportation.
Sunday has been radically transformed along secular lines into
a day of excursion to some rather distant point. . . . Vacations,
which were once used to work around the house or to visit
distant relatives who could put up the whole family, have lost
their patriarchal character and have been displaced by ex-
cursions organized by travel agencies.24

Increasing employment in factories and office buildings
has led to the spread of the quick lunch, eliminating the
midday meal at home as well as the traditional siesta. The
American-style breakfast, consisting of fruit juice, cereal,

23 Julio de la Fuente, "La civilizaci6n 'pocha' de Mexico," Cambios
Socio-Culturales en Mexico: Acta Antropologica, December 1948, p. 444.

24 Same, p. 445.

298 Social Change in Latin America Today

ham and eggs, and coffee, has become popular, displacing
the traditional breakfast, consisting of beans, chile sauce,
and tortillas. The practice of eating stuffed turkey on
Christmas Eve has been adopted by some middle-class
families. The same trend is seen in the substitution of the
Christmas tree for the customary Nativity scene, and the
exchange of gifts on December 25 instead of January 6,
the Day of the Kings. Drinking habits have also been
changing, with beer replacing pulque among the lower
and middle classes, and whiskey replacing cognac among
the middle and upper classes.

The spread of English is also noteworthy. English has
replaced French as a second language in the schools. Many
university technical texts are now in English, and at least
one important Mexican hospital, El Hospital de la Nu-
tricion, requires English for its staff members, many of
whom have received graduate training in the United
States. The French tradition in medicine is slowly but
surely being replaced by U.S. medicine.

Leading U.S. texts in the social sciences, including many
works of anthropologists, for example, Benedict, Mead,
Linton, Kroeber, Kluckhohn, and Redfield, are now avail-
able in Spanish translation. The U.S. influence in anthro-
pology has been predominant, and since 1940 the emphasis
in Mexican anthropology has shifted from a preoccupation
with archaeology toward a greater interest in social anthro-
pology.

Because the Mexican film industry was still in its in-
fancy in 1940, over 95 per cent of all films shown in the
country in that year were made in the United States. From
1940 to 1955, Mexican films shown in the capital increased
from 2 to 33, but 54 out of 83 movie programs advertised
in 1955 still included U.S. films. Until 1950, very few films
from other countries were shown, but in 1955 we find 7
French films, 4 Italian films, and 3 British films. But in
Monterrey, Guadalajara, and Puebla, only one or two for-
eign films other than U.S. films were shown during the
same year.

Mexico Since CArdenas 299

The number of legitimate theaters in Mexico City in-
creased from 4 to 30 (there are 77 in the whole country) in
four years during the 1950's. Translations of Broadway hit
plays attract large audiences. Spanish versions of "The Boy
Friend" and "Bus Stop," for example, were popular in the
mid-50's.

Interest in American sports, particularly football, has
reached phenomenal proportions. In 1954, the number of
soccer and U.S.-style games and also the number of baseball
games played throughout Mexico exceeded that of bull-
fights and cockfights. In the Distrito Federal almost twice
as many tickets were sold for football games as for bull-
fights. Boxing and wrestling, however, remain the most
popular sports. A comparison of the 1940 and 1954 census
figures on the number of games and matches of the various
sports shows a startling growth.25

Economic Development

The remarkable growth of the Mexican economy since
1945 has set a record which can be matched by few coun-
tries. The gross national product doubled in volume from
1945 to 1957; the rate of increase in other leading Latin
American countries was considerably smaller.26 In this
period per capita production in Mexico increased 44 per
cent, in the United States only 6.5 per cent. All this was
accomplished without any dramatic discoveries of unuti-
lized natural resources, such as occurred in Venezuela.
Moreover, all sectors of the Mexican economy appear to
have grown at rates more uniform than those of other large
Latin American countries. Many Mexicans believe they
have found a formula for balanced growth which will soon
lift Mexico out of the category of underdeveloped coun-
tries.

25 Anuario Estadistico . . . , cited (1940), pp. 295-300; same (1954), pp.
297-298.

26 Argentina, 45 per cent; Brazil, 87 per cent; Chile, 30 per cent; Co-
lombia, 76 per cent; Peru, 73 per cent; Mexico, 100 per cent.

300 Social Change in Latin America Today

The strikingly even growth of the various sectors of the
economy from 1945 to 1957 has resulted in a doubling of
volume in all areas except mining and construction. The
contribution of each sector to the total national product
is shown in Table 1.

Table 1

National Product by Shares

J945

195°

^957

(in

per cent)

Agriculture, forestry, fishing 18.8

20.6

19.1

Mining 4.3

3-2

2.6

Crude petroleum 1.5

i-7

1.8

Manufacturing 20.2

20.0

20.9

Construction 2.4

2.1

2.0

Wholesale and retail trade 33.9

33-7

35-o

Transport 4.6

4-7

4-9

Other , 14.3

14.0

13-7

Source: Economic Bulletin for Latin America (UN), October 1958, p. 47.

The largest increases have occurred in the generation of
electrical energy, which in 1957 was nearly three times the
1945 volume, and in petroleum refining, which more than
tripled in this period. The emphasis in the program of in-
dustrial expansion has been on economic development,
and output of producer goods has increased at a far more
rapid rate than output of goods for immediate consump-
tion. Capital accumulation has amounted to about 15 per
cent of the total national product; ** nearly two-thirds of
this investment in fixed capital has been undertaken by
private enterprise, a proportion which has been growing in
relation to the share provided by public investment.

The major factors responsible for the expansion and
increasing industrialization of the economy since 1 940 can

27 Among the thirteen major Latin American countries, Mexico has
had a progressively declining place in the proportion of output devoted
to capital investment; in the early 1950's Mexico was a member of the
upper half; in 1957 it tied with Ecuador for fourth place from the bottom.

Mexico Since Cardenas 301

be summarized as follows: use of increased amounts of
land, labor, and capital; increased efficiency—the output
per worker for the Mexican economy as a whole increased
about 35 per cent from 1945 to 1957; government expendi-
tures on public works programs, especially on road-build-
ing, irrigation projects, the rehabilitation of the railroad
system, and improvement of airports; government encour-
agement to new industries through tax exemptions, pro-
tective tariffs, import controls, and direct subsidies
(amounting to 496.9 million pesos in 1955); foreign in-
vestments, also encouraged by the government; a high level
of savings (encouraged by government policies favoring the
upper-income groups); increasing income from the U.S.
tourist trade, between $500 and $600 million in 1957 and
1958; and remittances from the bracer os.

Of the many factors listed above, the role of government
has been of striking importance. Public investment has
been concentrated in the expansion of basic economic
activity— in transportation and communications, irrigation,
petroleum, and electrical power. Since 1945 the govern-
ment's share in new investment has ranged from 27 to 47
per cent per year, the public funds acting as a counter-
weight to sharp fluctuations in private investment, and
also as a stimulus to it by creating a basic structure within
which private enterprise could function. The government's
investments for development in 1957 and 1958 accounted
for nearly one-half its total budget. Out of a total invest-
ment in the public sector of 5.5 million pesos in 1958, 41
per cent was earmarked for transportation and communi-
cations, 24 per cent for petroleum and electrical power,
and 14 per cent for agriculture (chiefly irrigation).

A comparison of the allocation of federal funds to the
various departments over the four presidential administra-
tions from Cardenas to Ruiz Cortines reveals also some
highly significant trends. Especially marked is the sharp
decrease in the proportion of funds allocated to national
defense, reflecting the demise of caudillismo as a serious
factor in Mexican life. Adolfo Ruiz Cortines was the first

302 Social Change in Latin America Today

president since the 1920's who did not depend heavily on
either the national or a private army to maintain his con-
trol. Table 2 shows the declining proportion of funds de-

Table 2
Percentages of National Budget

1935-^94°

I953'I95

Defense

*7-S

8.1

Communications

13.0

17.4

Hydraulic resources

7-7

10.5

Investment

5.8

10.0 >

Health and welfare

5.6

4.2

Education

12.7

12.3

Source: Official statistics of the Ministerio de Hacienda y Creclito Pu-
blico.

voted to defense, the government's increased emphasis on
industrialization and the development of commercial farm-
ing, and its relative neglect or de-emphasis of social wel-
fare activities.28

In Mexico, one notable feature of government spending
and investment is its heavy concentration in the federal
system, in comparison with the miserly resources available

28 However, public expenditures for social services took an increasing
share of the federal budget in the late 1950's. The Banco Nacional de
Comer cio Exterior provides the following budget categories and proposed
expenditures:

Percentages of national budget

J957 I95^ *959 I9^°
Economic development (including

communications and transport,

agriculture, industry) 47.3 48.1 42.1 42.6

Social investments (educational,

cultural, health, welfare)
Defense a
All other

a A substantial part of the defense budget appears to have been ex-
pended by the navy for a program of harbor improvements; this share,
properly speaking, should also be credited to "economic development."

Source: Comercio Exterior de Mexico, January 1958, pp. 3-4; January
1959* P- 4» January i960, p. 3.

239

24.1

274

30-5

104

10.3

10.6

18.4

174

20.2

16.3

Mexico Since Cardenas 303

to state and municipal governments. The budget of the
Federal District alone usually equals that of all the thirty-
two states and territories and the 2,361 municipios. In the
early lgso's the latter spent only 10 per cent of the total,
the states and territories 40 per cent, and the Federal Dis-
trict the remaining 50 per cent.29 The small amount of in-
come available to the municipios is one of the greatest
handicaps to the strengthening of local government.

Foreign Investment

In 1897, direct private U.S. investment in Mexico
amounted to about $200 million, primarily in mining and
railroads.30 British investment was considerably higher.
By 1908, after thirty years of the Diaz open-door policy,
U.S. direct investment had risen to $417 million, of which
57 per cent was in mining, 14 per cent in railroads, 12 per

29 Diego G. L6pez Rosado, "La experiencia mexicana en materia de la
intervenci6n estatal," in Instituto de Investigaciones Econ6micas, La in-
tervention del estado en la economia (Mexico City: Author, 1955), pp.

37-54-

30 The discussion of foreign investment has been based on the follow-
ing sources: two studies of the Camara Nacional de la Industria de Trans-
formaci6n, Las inversiones extranjeras directas en Mixico (Mexico City:
Author, 1955) and Estudio general sobre las inversiones extranjeras
(Mexico City: Author, 1955); the Banco de Mexico's recent annual reports,
Asamblea general . . . cited; Economic Bulletin for Latin America (UN),
October 1958; Great Britain, Board of Trade, Mexico, Overseas Economic
Surveys (London: HMSO, 1956); two studies by Cleona Lewis, America's
Stake in International Investments (1938) and The United States and
Foreign Investment (1948), both published by the Brookings Institution
in Washington; Pan American Union, Foreign Investments: Recent De-
velopments and Proposals for an Inter-American Financial Institution
(Washington: Author, 1957); J. Fred Rippy's British Investments in Latin
America, 1922-1949 (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1959)
and Globe and Hemisphere (Chicago: Regnery, 1958); Survey of Current
Business (U.S. Department of Commerce), September 1958; UN Economic
Commission for Latin America, External Disequilibrium in the Economic
Development of Latin America: The Case of Mexico, E/CN. 12/428 (New
York: Author, 1957), v. 1; and four surveys of the U.S. Department of
Commerce, Investment in Mexico (Washington: GPO, 1955), American
Direct Investments in Foreign Countries, 1940 (Washington: GPO, 1942),
Balance of Payments (Washington: GPO, 1958), Factors Limiting U.S.
Investment Abroad (Washington: GPO, 1953), pt. 1.

304 Social Change in Latin America Today

cent in petroleum, 5.3 per cent in public services, 2.4 per
cent in manufactures, and 1 per cent in commerce. In the
years just before the First World War, the United States
moved ahead of Britain as the main source of private in-
vestment funds in Mexico. Portfolio investment, an im-
portant part of it in government securities, also began to
be significant in those years. Private American investments
in Mexico reached their peak in 1924 when they totaled
slightly more than $1 billion, of which $735 million was
direct investment.31 During the 1930's, depression, sales,
and nationalization sharply curtailed foreign private in-
vestment. Direct U.S. investments fell to about $480 million
by 1936 and $267 million by 1939. At that time, the United
States accounted for some 60 per cent of foreign direct in-
vestment in Mexico, Canada for 25 per cent, Britain 7 per
cent, and Sweden 5 per cent. As in the past, the largest
part of the American investment was in mining, transpor-
tation, public utilities, and— before nationalization— oil.

The postwar years brought a marked increase in foreign
investment in Mexico. Private direct investment rose from
$582.5 million in 1945 to $1.1 billion in 1957. The Amer-
ican share in the latter year was nearly 80 per cent. More
important than the increase in amount was the dramatic
change in the pattern of American investment. From 1 940
to 1957, of the total U.S. private investment, the propor-
tion invested in manufacturing and trade rose from 4.9
per cent to 58.5 per cent. The share of U.S. investment in
mining and smelting, petroleum, transportation, commun-
ications, and public utilities dropped from 88.4 per cent
of the total to 42 per cent.32 Expropriation of the petro-
leum industry had started this shift, but after World War
II American investors lost no time in taking advantage of
the rapid development of the internal Mexican market.

31 Cleona Lewis, America's Stake in International Investments, cited, p.
606. Mexican sources give a billion dollars for U.S. private investment as
early as 1912. See Las inversiones extranjeras directas en Mixico, cited,
p. 16.

32 Factors Limiting U.S. Investment Abroad, cited, p. 36; Survey of
Current Business, September 1958, p. 18.

Mexico Since Cardenas 305

Measured in current dollars, U.S. direct investments had
in 1957 surpassed the peak of the 1920's by $50 to $100
million, but this amounted to only about 3 per cent of
total U.S. private investment abroad in contrast to the 9
per cent of 1929. The relative importance of foreign in-
vestment for Mexico is reflected in the fact that it amounted
to 11.3 per cent of the total new investment in 1957 and
7.7 per cent in 1958.33

Although in the early 1950's, direct foreign investment
participated in some 1,500 companies spread throughout
the country, the bulk of it is concentrated in large enter-
prises. A survey showed that in 1953, of 31 business enter-
prises in Mexico with a gross annual income of over 100
million pesos, 19 were United States-owned or controlled,
5 were Mexican government projects— some taken out of
foreign hands, for example, Petroleos Mexicanos and Fer-
rocarriles Nacionales— and only 7 were private Mexican
firms.34 These seven included two insurance companies,
an iron and steel firm, a copper refinery, a paper company,
and two breweries. The owners of the breweries were a
Spaniard and a Frenchman, both of them naturalized.

There is a higher degree of Mexican ownership and con-
trol in the smaller companies. In the early 1950's, of 43
enterprises with annual average gross earnings of 50 to 100
million pesos, only 22 were foreign-owned or controlled;
and of 168 with 20 to 50 million pesos in annual earnings,
only 70 were controlled by foreigners.35

The twenty-five largest foreign concerns in Mexico in
the early 1950's were subsidiaries of large U.S. corpora-
tions.36 They operate in highly strategic areas of the econ-

33 Banco de Mexico, cited (1959), p. 48. It was a higher proportion of
total private investment.

34 Jose Luis Cecena Gamez, "Politica en materia de inversione extran-
jera, pp. 81-103, m La intervention del estado en la economia, cited, p. 83.

35 Same. See also Las inversiones extranjeras directas . . . , cited, pp.
24-43-

36 Of the 50 largest foreign concerns in Mexico, 46 were affiliates of
foreign corporations and only 4 were independent in Mexico. (Cecena
Gamez, cited, p. 86.)

306 Social Change in Latin America Today

omy: mining, iron and steel, chemical products, cotton,
electricity, telephones, aviation, automobiles, tires and
tubes, cigarettes, commerce and finance (especially savings
banks, insurance companies, and loan associations), and
food products.37 American Smelting, Anderson Clayton,
General Motors, Ford, Chrysler, B. F. Goodrich, Goodyear
Tire and Rubber, Colgate-Palmolive, General Electric,
E. I. Du Pont de Nemours, American Power, Sears Roe-
buck, and Woolworth are some of the major companies.

Estimates of the rate of earnings on foreign investments
in Mexico have ranged from about 10 per cent to over 20
per cent.38 However, an examination of data published by
the U.S. Department of Commerce shows that over the six-
year period, 1950 to 1955, average profits on the annual
U.S. investment in Mexico of about $500 million
amounted to about 10 per cent, of which 6 per cent was
withdrawn and 4 per cent reinvested.39 In 1956, when
earnings rose to nearly 12 per cent, the rate of reinvest-
ment shot up to over 7 per cent while withdrawals came
to 4.8 per cent. In the following year earnings fell below
10 per cent, withdrawals rose to 5.2 per cent and reinvest-
ment fell to 4.6 per cent.40

The predominant position of U.S. investments in
Mexico creates one of the most sensitive and potentially
explosive points in U.S.-Mexican relations. The Mexican
Chamber of Manufacturing Industries asserted bluntly:
"The economic power of these large foreign enterprises
constitutes a serious threat to the integrity of the nation

37 Three U.S. corporations controlled the production and refining of
minerals, two produced most of the electricity, three predominated in
auto assembly, and two controlled cigarette production; for details, see
Cecena Gamez, cited, pp. 90-91.

38 A report On foreign investments of the United Nations gives 21.8
per cent as the average annual earning on private investment in Latin
America as a whole for the year 1951. Seligman, cited, p. 106, estimated a
15 per cent rate of profit.

39 This conclusion is based on data in Direct Private Foreign Invest-
ments (Washington: Author, 1953); also, Survey of Current Business,
August 1956.

40 Survey of Current Business, September 1958, p. 19.

Mexico Since Cardenas 307

and to the liberty of the country to plan its own economic
development."41 In the late 1940's, Sanford Mosk, com-
menting on the unusual investment pattern whereby an
American corporation, Mexican private capital, and the
Mexican government were co-investors in the Celanese
Corporation in Mexico, wrote:

The inflow of American capital into Mexican manufactur-
ing in recent years has fostered the belief that the nation is
allowing itself to be kept in a semi-colonial economic status
rather than freeing itself from the remaining ties which have
kept it dependent upon the United States. . . .

Mexicans are beginning to wonder whether they are return-
ing to the days of Porfirio Diaz when the foreigner was better
treated by the Mexican government than the Mexican.42

Almost a decade later, an article in Fortune sounded a
similar note:

At present, though the nationalists are capable of harassing
U.S. investors in Mexico, there is no visible danger of anything
so serious as further expropriations. Yet the altered political
climate may pose serious long-run problems for U.S. investors.

"The nationalists represent the sub-conscious mind of
Mexico," was the gloomy estimate of one well-informed busi-
nessman.

Give them an issue to work on— one good issue, with the
Gringos cast as villains— and they could be running the gov-
ernment.43

Suspicion about large foreign enterprises unites diverse
sectors of Mexican opinion: industrialists, small business-
men, middle-class intellectuals, and a variety of national-
ists. The argument made by the economists who work for
the Mexican Chamber of Manufacturing Industries and
for the Bank of Mexico sums up the Mexican nationalist
case:

41 Las inversiones extranjeras directas . . . , cited, p. 30.

42 Cited, p. 138.

43 Seligman, cited, p. 176.

308 Social Change in Latin America Today

(i) Foreign investments, especially those establishing
subsidiaries of large U.S. corporations, attempt to obtain
absolute control of the market and eliminate competition.

(2) In addition to displacing Mexican firms, foreign-
controlled firms do not always employ Mexican raw mate-
rials or semielaborated products— thereby retarding the
development of local industry and the local market.

(3) When foreign-owned or controlled companies pro-
duce raw materials or semimanufactured goods, they tend
to exert a monopoly over the Mexican industries depend-
ing upon these products.

(4) A great deal of the wealth produced with the aid of
foreign investment leaves Mexico. According to the report
of the Bank of Mexico, the earnings on foreign invest-
ments from 1939 to 1955 amounted to $813.7 million.
During the same period $790.9 million were sent out of
Mexico in the form of profits, patent fees, interest, and
royalties.44 The Mexican critics, viewing earnings as po-
tential capital, conclude that the outflow of this "capital"
represents a decapitalization of the country and is there-
fore harmful to national interests.45 This argument does
not take into consideration the benefits accruing to Mexico
from foreign investment in the effects upon the industrial
potential, increased employment, the training of native
technicians, greater efficiency in production, and general
stimulus to economic development. The alternative to de-
pendence upon foreign investment, many economists and
businessmen point out, would be a long, slow process of
building up Mexican industry with little capital at its dis-
posal, with little managerial or technical personnel avail-
able, and with very little twentieth-century know-how. The
exclusion of foreign capital would also result in heavier

44 Banco de Mexico, cited (1956), p. 82. It is difficult, perhaps impos-
sible, to reconcile these figures with other estimates of profits, their re-
patriation, and reinvestments (see above, p. 306).

45 See Estudio general sobre las inversiones extranjeras, cited; see also
Jose Domingo Lavin, Inversiones extranjeras (Mexico City: Ibero-Amer-
icana de Publicaciones, 1954).

Mexico Since Cardenas 309

taxation being imposed on native capital in order to sup-
port even a reduced program of development.

(5) The Mexican critics of foreign investment maintain
that they are not opposed to all foreign loans; rather, they
argue, foreign investment should be subject to stricter
legal controls and should be accepted only when invested
in fields which benefit the nation and do not compete with
or displace already operating Mexican business interests.
They do not explain exactly what Mexican interests have
been displaced or to what degree foreign firms do, in fact,
enjoy monopolistic positions. These critics would prefer
intergovernmental loans to direct private investment and
maintain that they want no strings attached; that is, they
would reject any conditions governing the expenditure of
the loans.

Industrial Expansion; Transportation
and Communication

From 1939 to 1957 Mexico's volume of industrial pro-
duction increased 130 per cent.46 Most of the increases re-
sulted from the fuller use of equipment and the expansion
of facilities in already established industries such as iron
and steel, cement, chemicals, paper, sugar, and glass. How-
ever, many new industries were created during and after
the 1940's— such as rayon and acetates, alkalis, plywood,
fertilizer, electrical equipment, aluminum products, tin
containers, and automobile assembly plants, to name a few.

The production increases of heavy industry are particu-
larly significant and suggest that Mexico is on its way to
becoming an industrial nation. By 1957 the volume of out-
put in several major industries had increased enormously
over 1945. Steel ingot production was over 1 million tons
(an increase of nearly 500 per cent); crude petroleum pro-
duction was 91 million barrels (109 per cent increase);
electrical energy generation was 8.5 billion kilowatt hours

46 Banco de Mexico, cited (1956 and 1958).

gio Social Change in Latin America Today

(175 per cent); and cement output was 3 million tons (270
per cent). The output of the construction industry in 1957
was nearly seven times that of 1939. Rubber, paper, and
alcohol industries also grew greatly. Food processing nearly
tripled between 1938 and 1957, and only such older indus-
tries as textiles, clothing, and tobacco-processing showed
increases of less than 100 per cent during this period.47

Mexicans are proud of the progress made by Petroleos
Mexicanos (known as Pemex) because of its symbolic value
to their efforts toward national economic independence.
Oil production in 1957 was about twice what it had been
in the late 1930's. Except for the shortage of refineries it
would suffice to meet the growing internal demand. The
production of petroleum derivatives has been rising and
they have become important export items. During the
twelve years in which Senator Bermudez was its director,
Pemex was generally regarded as being remarkably free
from graft and typical government inefficiency. However,
when a new management came in at the beginning of
Lopez Mateos' presidency, it publicized a series of unfavor-
able allegations about its predecessors and instituted sev-
eral changes in policy. Along with the expansion of Pemex'
production has gone an increase in the revenues it has
turned over to the government. Wages and working condi-
tions for the oil workers are far better than those of work-
ers in most industries. The oil workers enjoy the special
status of a labor aristocracy, and new jobs are restricted to
the sons of oil workers.

Improvements in transportation and communication
since 1940 have more than kept pace with the growth of
industry. As indicated earlier, the increased proportion of
government expenditures on communications and trans-
port has been one of the major changes since Cardenas.

From 1939 to 1959, Mexico increased its national high-
ways from 9,929 kilometers to over 43,000 kilometers. In
addition, many farm-to-market roads are being built

47 Comercio Exterior de Mexico, May 1959, p. 21.

Mexico Since Cardenas 311

throughout the country under the direction of an autono-
mous authority, the National Committee for Rural Com-
munications. Various Indianist organizations, also, are di-
recting the building of "roads of penetration" into isolated
Indian areas as part of the program of incorporating the
Indian within the nation.48

Highway transportation has grown in importance. It is
estimated that well over 40 per cent of all freight carried
in Mexico is now transported by truck. Registered trucks
increased from about 42,000 in 1940 to about 240,000 in
1956. During the same period the number of buses in-
creased from 10,141 to 21,000 and automobiles from 93,632
to 320,400. In the early i95o's the Federal District alone
had about 38 per cent of all the automobiles, 36 per cent
of the buses, and 13 per cent of the trucks.

Aviation facilities have been greatly expanded and im-
proved. Mexico had 236 registered landing fields in 1956.
Domestic and international airlines carried over 1.8 mil-
lion passengers. The field and facilities at Mexico City are
rated among the best in the world.

In 1956, Mexico had 391,360 telephones (compared to
206,517 in 1944) of which about one-half were in Mexico
City. However, only 5,102 are listed as private phones. In
order to meet the great demand, the Ministry of Commun-
ications and Public Works, by agreement with Telefonos
de Mexico, undertook to establish 25,000 new telephones
each year for five years.

There were 266 commercial radio stations in 1954 and
three official government stations operated for cultural
purposes. Daily telecasting services were introduced in
Mexico in 1950. Commercial telecasting is carried on by
private enterprise and is dominated by two wealthy fam-
ilies. In 1957, ten stations were in operation, five of them
in the Federal District. At the end of 1956 there were an
estimated 150,000 television sets in the country, the vast
majority of them in or around Mexico City.

48 See Julio de la Fuente, "Carreteras de penetraci6n," Novedades,
February 19, 1956.

312 Social Change in Latin America Today

Agricultural Development

The advances in Mexican agriculture since 1940 seem
even more impressive than those in industry, all the more
so since terrain, climate, and weather put obstacles in the
way of expanding production. Mexico is one of the most
mountainous countries of the world. Its climate ranges
from tropical to cool temperate. Nearly one-half of the
total land area is intensely arid and another 1 5 per cent is
extremely hot and humid. Even when rainfall and tem-
perature are relatively favorable for farming, countless
slopes of more than 25 degrees make it impossible to culti-
vate large areas. It has been estimated that Mexico has only
half a hectare of land per capita under cultivation; by com-
parison, the United States has 4 hectares, Canada 2.2, and
Argentina 1.7. According to the Mexican census of 1950,
a little more than half the tillable land is planted, while
nearly half is left fallow because of lack of rainfall. Of the
area planted, about 15 per cent, on the average, results in
crop failure, and about three-fourths of all crop failures
are due to lack of rain.

In these circumstances, few would have predicted the
rapid and far-reaching changes that have occurred in Mexi-
can agriculture in the last twenty years. Agriculture has
held its own in the expanding economy, contributing
about one-fifth of the gross national product during the
whole period (not counting subsistence agriculture). Be-
tween 1945 and 1957 agricultural production more than
doubled while population grew by 40 per cent. While
farming still occupies more Mexicans than all other pur-
suits put together— and two million more in 1957 than in
1 940— agriculture maintained its share of the gross national
product with a declining proportion of the labor force.
The drop in numbers was particularly sharp during the
war, as the figures in Table 3 show. Industry and construc-
tion, in contrast, have been absorbing a larger proportion
of the labor force though their relative contribution to the
gross national product has remained stable.

Mexico Since Cardenas

313

Table 3
Gainfully Employed Population

1940

1946

mil- % of

1957

mil-

%of

mil- % of

lions

total

lions total

Agriculture,

forestry,

fishing

8-831

65.4

4- 59-2

5.878 57.8

Manufacturing,

construction

0.64

10.9

0.8 11.8

1-459 H-S

Total

employment

5.858

6-755

10.169

Sources: 1940— International Labor Office, Year Book of Labour Statistics,
195S (Geneva: Author, 1953), p. 15;

1946— UN Economic Commission for Latin America, Economic Survey
of Latin America, 1949, 1951.II.G.1 (New York: UN Department of Eco-
nomic Affairs, 1951), p. 401;

1957— International Labor Office, Year Book of Labour Statistics, 1958
(Geneva: Author, 1958), p. 29.

Mexico has gone a long way in the last twenty years to-
ward changing from a predominantly subsistence economy
in agriculture to a market economy. This has been accom-
plished by bringing new land under cultivation, by the
expansion of irrigation, by the increasing use of fertilizer
and improved seed varieties, by increased mechanization,
and by the concentration of most of these improvements
on larger holdings. In doing this, Mexico has practically
bypassed the older subsistence areas of agriculture which
continue to specialize in the production of corn and beans,
using traditional primitive methods on small holdings.
The contrast between the new and old agriculture is thus
becoming sharper and in some measure parallels the con-
trast between the mestizo and the Indian, the north and
the south.

This contrast is clearly seen when we compare the type
of power used in agriculture. Whereas the number of trac-
tors increased from 4,620 in 1940 to 22,711 in 1950 and

314 Social Change in Latin America Today

55,000 in 1955, about 34 per cent of all private holdings
of five hectares or less were still being worked in 1950 by
the ancient pre-Hispanic hoe culture (cutting and burn-
ing) and without benefit of plow and oxen.49 Though ce-
reals, chiefly corn, occupied nearly three-quarters of the
tilled acreage, they accounted for less than one-third of
the total value of agricultural production in 1953-1955. 50

PRODUCTION, HARVESTED AREAS, AND YIELDS

The total volume of agricultural production rose by
some 155 per cent between 1939 and 1954.51 The Mexican
Secretary of Economy classifies crops into four groups: in-
dustrial, food, fruit, and feeds. According to their figures,
by far the greatest production increase was registered in
industrial products (309 per cent), followed by food prod-
ucts (113 per cent), fruit (48 per cent), and feeds (49 per
cent).

Most of the big increases in production occurred in ex-
port crops. Agricultural products have displaced oil and
minerals as Mexico's leading export. These shipments, as
the UN Economic Commission for Latin America has
pointed out, "did much to speed up economic develop-
ment, because they considerably increased Mexico's capac-
ity to import." In this and other respects Mexico is one of

49 Censo agricola y ganadero (Mexico City: Secretaria de Economia,

1950). P- 15-

50 UN Economic Commission for Latin America, Economic Survey of
Latin America, 1956, 1g57.II.C1 (New York: UN Department of Economic
and Social Affairs, 1957), pp. 179-181.

51 Annual fluctuations in output, due largely to the weather and differ-
ing from crop to crop, make comparisons between individual years some-
what risky. There are also differences in coverage and compilation of
statistics which make comparison of sources difficult. The figures used in
this section are drawn largely from official sources and illustrate major
trends even though the choice of other years or other sources would
somewhat alter the picture. For instance, the FAO estimates that in 1956-
1957 Mexican agricultural output was 109 per cent above prewar and food
production 91 per cent above prewar, while the Chase Manhattan Bank
records a 150 per cent increase in agricultural production between 1935-
1939 and 1956-1957. Comparing 1945 and 1957 the Economic Commission
for Latin America gives a 103 per cent increase in agriculture, forestry, and
fishing production.

Mexico Since Cardenas 315

the few Latin American countries in which agriculture
"has played the dynamic role expected of it." 52 From 1950
to 1957 coffee production increased 48 per cent and cotton
81 per cent. During the period 1952-1955 the value of the
cotton crop was higher than that of any other crop, al-
though it occupied only 1 1 per cent of the total harvested
area. With the exception of wheat and beans, which in-
creased by 132 per cent and 80 per cent respectively, be-
tween 1950 and 1957, the increase in food production has
been at a much slower pace than that of industrial crops.
Corn, the most important subsistence crop, occupying
nearly one-half the total harvested area, increased by only
44 per cent from 1950 to 1957. This expansion exceeded
the population increase but did not eliminate the need
for imports.

From 1940 to 1954, the harvested area increased by 69
per cent or 4,128,949 hectares. Here again, the greatest
percentage of increase was in land used for the production
of export crops. There were marked regional differences
in this expansion. The central states, the breadbasket of
the nation, accounted for about one-third of the increase,
but their share of the total harvested area fell from 48 to 42
per cent between 1940 and 1954. The next most impor-
tant producer, the north, held its relative position at 22 per
cent. The biggest increase came in the north Pacific region
(from 8 to 13 per cent) while the Gulf states showed some
gain and the south Pacific states about an equivalent drop.

An examination of the relationship between the in-
crease in the number of harvested hectares and the size and
types of holdings, as reported in the censuses of 1940 and
1950, reveals a definite trend toward larger holdings and
a decline in the relative importance of ejidos. Although
the increase in the total harvested area for the country was
1,934,774 hectares or 28 per cent, 48 per cent of this in-
crease occurred in the larger private holdings, compared
to 20 per cent in small private holdings and 2 1 per cent in

52 Economic Survey of Latin America, 1957, cited, p. 242.

316 Social Change in Latin America Today

ejidal or communal holdings. The increased importance
of the larger landholders is also reflected in the rise from
39 to 43 per cent of all harvested land owned in holdings
over 5 hectares. However, in both years the ejidos ac-
counted for the largest share of the harvested area.

Compared with U.S. standards, yields of most crops are
still low. Corn, much of it grown by traditional methods,
yields less per acre in Mexico than anywhere else in Latin
America, a region of low corn yields in comparison with
the rest of the world. On irrigated land, and with the ap-
plication of fertilizer and improved seed, yields can be
doubled and quadrupled. Yields of cotton are relatively
high because nearly all is irrigated and is produced by
much more modern methods.53 In fact, Mexican cotton
yields in 1953-1955 were 20 per cent higher than those of
the United States, and in all Latin America they were ex-
ceeded only by Peru.54 Over the years, Mexican yields have
risen for the most part, but at very uneven rates. From
1925 to 1956 the bean yield has increased by 59 per cent;
corn by 20 per cent; cotton by 93 per cent; tomatoes by 9
per cent; tobacco by 106 per cent; wheat by 103 per cent;
and rice by 1 3 per cent. In coffee, henequen, oranges, and
bananas there has been a decline in yields.

SPREAD OF IRRIGATION

More than any other single factor, irrigation has been
transforming Mexican agriculture. By it crop production
has been increased and the development of a new type of
intensive commercial agriculture, based on the use of farm
machinery, fertilizers, and improved seed varieties, has
been stimulated. It has also raised land values, increased
income and purchasing power, and has been an important
new source of wealth. Moreover, the irrigation projects
pay for themselves within a relatively short time. Annual
government revenues from the collection of taxes and the

53 Bole tin Mensual de la Direction de Economia Rural (1947), pp. 740-
741.

54 Economic Survey of Latin America, 1956, cited, p. 182.

Mexico Since Cardenas 317

sale of water and electricity are estimated to equal nearly
12 per cent of the total cost of irrigation projects which
therefore can be said to pay for themselves in 8.5 years.

From 1940 to 1955, 1,368,000 hectares of irrigated land
were added to the crop area, making for a total of 3.1 mil-
lion hectares under irrigation. This represents a 79 per
cent increase over 1940. The irrigated portion of the har-
vested area rose from about 28 per cent in 1940 to 33 per
cent in 1955. Moreover, well over 60 per cent of all new
land brought under cultivation between 1950 and 1955
was irrigated land, mostly in the north and north Pacific
regions.

The area under irrigation in the mid-1950's represented
approximately 45 per cent of the maximum potential for
irrigation according to official estimates. Studies by engi-
neers of the Secretary of Hydraulic Resources suggest that
7.4 million additional hectares could be irrigated and an-
other 2 million hectares could be brought under cultiva-
tion in the lowland coastal areas. In other words, Mexico
might eventually count on a maximum tillable area of ap-
proximately 30 million hectares.55

In the mid-1950's nearly two-thirds of all irrigation facil-
ities in the country consisted of large, federally constructed
projects involving dam and storage facilities which could
also be used for hydroelectric power. In addition, there
were about 31,000 wells used for irrigation. About 60 per
cent of the irrigated land was in cotton and wheat in 1955.
Most of Mexico's cotton and about 80 per cent of its wheat
are produced on irrigated land. Sugar cane, rice, alfalfa,
vegetables, flax, and tobacco are also grown extensively in
irrigated areas.

MECHANIZATION AND AGRICULTURAL CREDITS

In the last fifteen years considerable progress has been
made in the mechanization of agriculture on large irri-

55 See the excellent article by Jorge L. Tamayo, "Influencia de las
condiciones fisiograficas de Mexico en su desarrollo econdmico," Investi-
gation Economica, 3d Quarter, 1955, pp. 363-377.

gi8 Social Change in Latin America Today

gated holdings. As noted earlier, the number of tractors
increased from 4,620 in 1940 to 55,000 in 1955. In 1950
nearly three-quarters of the tractors were used in the north
and the north Pacific area which provided roughly one-
third of the agricultural output. In other regions tractors
are also used, principally on sugar haciendas. Tractors are
being concentrated increasingly on larger private holdings.
While there was a considerable increase between 1 940 and
1950 in the use of tractors on ejidos, the rate of increase
was much higher on private holdings larger than five hec-
tares. Small holdings, however, are worked with plow and
oxen or by hand. Out of a million such holdings in 1950,
not a one had a tractor.

Although the volume of agricultural credit has increased
continuously since 1940, there seem to have been no major
shifts in policy. Trends noted by Whetten in the early
1940's have continued. The north and north Pacific re-
gions still receive the bulk of agricultural credit despite
the fact that these areas contain a relatively small percent-
age of ejidatarios and private farmers.

In 1945 Whetten found that only 14 per cent of all eji-
datarios received loans.56 By 1954 the Ejido Bank had
managed to extend its credit facilities to reach 25 to 30
per cent of all ejidatarios.51 Nevertheless, a frankly busi-
ness psychology seems to dominate the motif in agricul-
tural credit policy. This contrasts sharply with the ideals
of the Cardenas regime which regarded the Ejido Bank as
a device for facilitating social reforms. The current policy
of the Ejido Bank was summed up by its director of re-
search:

We lend to about one-third of all ejidatarios, those that have
the richest and best lands. We prefer risks that have fertile
soil and preferably irrigation. We do not have enough money

56 Cited, p. 195.

57 Banco Nacional de Cr6dito Ejidal (Mexico City), Informe, Ejerdcio
de 1954, pp. 30, 216.

Mexico Since Cardenas 319

for loans to subsistence farmers most of whom have the poorest
lands.58

In 1955, 3,219 million pesos were invested in agricul-
tural loans throughout the country. Sixty-nine per cent of
this money went to private farmers and 3 1 per cent to the
ejidatarios. Thirty-five per cent of the total was loaned by
national banks, including the Ejido Bank and the Agricul-
tural Bank; 32 per cent by private banks; and 33 per cent
by private lenders.59 Approximately 90 per cent of the
agricultural loans made by the Ejido Bank and the Agri-
cultural Bank were invested in five crops: three major
export crops— cotton, coffee, and rice— and two major do-
mestic crops— corn and wheat. About 50 per cent of all
loans were for cotton alone and another 20 per cent for
corn and beans. In the past few years a great investment
has been made in wheat with the result that Mexico has
achieved self-sufficiency in this crop.

On the whole, the Agricultural Bank makes loans to
larger landowners whereas the Ejido Bank makes loans to
ejidatarios, who are by definition small landowners. The
great mass of the small peasant landholders— those with
private holdings of less than five hectares (1,004,835 in
1950) 60 and about 75 per cent (roughly 1,030,330) 61 of the
ejidatarios are simply not reached by existing government
credit facilities and continue to be victims of local money
lenders.

Exports and Imports

From just before World War II up to 1957, the volume
of Mexico's exports increased 143 per cent while the vol-
ume of imports increased 265 per cent. From 1925 to 1944

58 Ram6n Fernandez y Fernandez of the Ejido Bank, Mexico City;
personal communication.

59 Ram6n Fernandez y Fernandez, "Mexico y su credito agricola,"
Banco Nacional de Cretlito Ejidal, Boletin de Estudios Especiales, v. 6
(July' 1956), p. 78.

60 Censo agricola y ganadero, cited, p. 5.

61 Tercer censo ejidal (Mexico City: Secretaria de Economia, 1950),
P- 5-

320 Social Change in Latin America Today

Mexico had a favorable balance of merchandise trade;
since 1944 the value of imports has consistently exceeded
that of exports. The deficit has been made up by large
receipts from tourist trade, remittances from braceros, and
foreign loans and investments.

Important changes have occurred in the structure of ex-
ports and imports. Although Mexico is still an exporter of
raw materials, which accounted for two-thirds of all ex-
ports in 1957, there has been a sharp shift from the export
of minerals to that of agricultural products. Before the
war agricultural exports were only one-third of the total;
in the 1950's they were more than one-half.62 By contrast,
minerals, metals, and petroleum products now account for
about one-fifth of all exports. This change from the export
of nonrenewable to renewable materials is hailed by Mexi-
cans as a step forward in the transformation of a colonial
economy.

Approximately one-half of agricultural exports are food
products (coffee, fish, meat, vegetables, peanuts, etc.). Cot-
ton, the leading export, accounted in the mid- 1950's for
one-fourth of the total value of all merchandise exports,
and coffee is second with nearly 15 per cent. About three-
fourths of the cotton and, in good years, even more of the
coffee produced are shipped abroad. Mexico is the world's
second largest exporter of cotton and the fourth largest
exporter of coffee.

The composition of Mexico's imports shows a relative
decline in imports of agricultural products, from 10.3 per
cent in 1937-1941 to 7.3 per cent in 1952-1956. In volume,
however, these imports have more than doubled; even on
a per capita basis, imports of agricultural products were 40
per cent higher in 1952-1956 than before the war. The
imports are chiefly foodstuffs since the greatest gains in
the expansion of Mexican agricultural output have been
in crops for export, not in foods for domestic consumption.
The major exception is wheat, which was traditionally

62 Economic Survey of Latin America, 1957, cited, p. 288.

Mexico Since Cardenas 321

one of the large import items; in 1956 and 1957 domestic
production was sufficient for the country's requirements.
However, two staple foods in the Mexican diet, corn and
beans, must be imported in years of extensive crop failures.
For example, foreign shipments of these foods amounted
to 1 per cent of total Mexican imports in 1956; in 1957
and 1958 they were nearly 5 per cent. Other significant
food imports are livestock and poultry products arid vege-
table oils. Although largely self-sufficient in agricultural
commodities, Mexico continues to rely on imports in years
of poor harvests.

As might be expected from what has been said of the
growth of the Mexican economy, imports of capital goods
have grown significantly. In 1937-1940 they averaged 31.5
per cent of Mexico's imports; in 1954-1957, 42.6 per cent.63
They are the most important broad category of Mexican
imports. "Raw and semi-processed materials are next
(nearly 30 per cent), and consumption goods of all kinds,
including food, are in third place (18 per cent). These
figures emphasize the relatively small proportion that con-
sists of finished manufactures for consumption." 64

Income Distribution

Even a brief review of Mexico's recent great increases in
production and national wealth makes1 it clear that, as a
nation, the Mexican people have made remarkable prog-
ress since 1940. But what has been its impact upon the
various sectors of the society? How has this increasing
wealth been divided? Can it be said that most Mexicans
are living better today than they did fifteen years ago?

Most available data indicate that the distribution has

63 UN Economic Commission for Latin America, Economic Survey of
Latin America, 1949, 1951.II.G.1 (New York: UN Department of Economic
Affairs, 1951), p. 413; . . . i95yt cited, p. 214. The highest figure in the first
group of years was 36.7 per cent in 1937 and in the latter 46.1 peT cent in
1956. Other sources give figures ranging from 34 to 48 per cent for 1957,
because of differences in definition.

64 Investment in Mexico, cited, p. 102.

322 Social Change in Latin America Today

been extremely uneven and has been weighted heavily in
favor of the owners of capital and generally of the upper-
income groups. A report of the U.S. Department of Com-
merce states:

There appears to have been a considerable increase in the
real per capita income since 1939. However, most of the in-
crease was in the form of commercial and industrial profits,
and large sectors of the population apparently derived little
if any benefit from the enlarged national product.85

In his annual report to the nation in September 1956,
President Ruiz Cortines said:

Yes, we have made progress; but the progress obtained by the
country as a whole enables us to see with greater clarity those
who have still not benefited by this progress, or at least have
not benefited as much as we fervently hoped for ... I think,
with much emotion, of the great masses who are still suffer-
ing ignorance, illness and poverty. ... So long as these great
masses do not progress at the same pace as the rest of the
country, we will have to say to those who are satisfied with
the present situation, "We have done very little indeed, the
essential promise has yet to be fulfilled."

From 1939 to 1950 the share of the national income go-
ing to profits rose from 26.2 per cent to 41.4 per cent,
while that of wages and salaries dropped from 30.5 per
cent to 23.8 per cent.66 The Economic Commission for
Latin America 67 found that, "Whereas wages, salaries and
incomes of the small entrepreneurs increased at an annual
rate of 4.4 per cent between 1939 and 1952, profits, inter-

65 Investment in Mexico, cited, p. 10. The uneven distribution of in-
come is especially marked in some fields. "No less than 80 per cent of
income payments from commerce go to capital and only 16 per cent to
labor." (Adolf Sturmthal, "Economic Development, Income Distribution,
and Capital Formation in Mexico," Journal of Political Economy, June
i955» P- 189.)

66 International Bank for Reconstruction and Development, The Eco-
nomic Development of Mexico: Report of the Combined Mexican Work-
ing Party (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1953), p. 178.

67 Economic Survey of Latin America, 1951-52, 1953.II.G.3 (New York:
UN Department of Economic Affairs, 1954), p. 86.

Mexico Since Cardenas 323

ests, and rent rose 10.1 per cent." One Mexican econ-
omist, Manuel Germdn Parra, finds a greater inequality in
1955 than in 1940 in the distribution of the national in-
come and urges the social and economic necessity of bring-
ing about a more equitable pattern, closer to that which
prevails in the United States and Britain. He comments
ironically that after forty-five years of struggle by the Mex-
ican Revolution for social justice, the distribution of
income in Mexico is so lopsided as to make the most con-
servative British or U.S. capitalist blush.68

The more or less chronic inflation which has been going
on in Mexico since 1940 has squeezed the real income of
the poor. During the latter years of the Cardenas admin-
istration, prices rose at an average annual rate of 6 per
cent; under Camacho, at 22 per cent; under Aleman, at 12
per cent; and under Ruiz Cortines at 7.3 per cent. Studies
of real wages in agriculture, industry, and government
employment show decreases of 27 to 46 per cent over the
period 1939-1950.69 Between 1952 and 1958 minimum
wage levels were raised about 30 per cent, but the level of
real wages in the country as a whole was still below that of
1939. Index figures published by the Mexican Secretaria
de Economia showed that the cost of living for workers in
Mexico City was nearly seven times greater in 1958 than in
1939.70 Of course, in a country where so large a portion of
the working population lives on the land, wage rates can-
not be relied on as the sole measure of the welfare of the
poorer classes. Difficult as it is to measure the real changes
over a long period, the evidence about the poverty of most
Mexicans is very clear.

In the 1950 census figures, incomes for 4.5 million fam-
ilies were classified by source, wages and salaries or other

68 "Un programa reaccionario para la Revoluci6n Mexicana," Siempre,
October 3, 1956, p. 16.

69 Diego G. L6pez Rosado and Juan F. Noyola Vasquez, "Los salarios
reales en Mexico, 1939-1950," El Trimestre Econdmico, April- June 1951,
p. 206.

70 Memoria de la secretaria de economia (Mexico City: Author, 1956),
p. 221.

324 Social Change in Latin America Today

income (rent, dividends, etc.). Of these families, 89 per
cent received less than 600 pesos a month ($70 at the 1 950
rate of exchange), and 71 per cent received less than 300
pesos a month ($35). Only 4 per cent of the families had
monthly incomes of 1,000 pesos ($115) or more (see
Table 4). The 1950 census also reported that 605,013 fami-
lies had "mixed incomes." Although this group represented
only 1 2 per cent of the total number of families, its income
from several sources amounted to nearly 20 per cent of
total family incomes.

Table 4

Monthly Income by Families or Persons Living
Alone, Mexico, 1950

nthly Income

Number of Families

Per Cent of

(pesos)

1-149

1,510,613

33-6

i5°"299

1*677,471

37-3

300-599

824,649

18.3

600-999

309,785

6.9

1,000-2,999

156,832

3-5

3,000 or more

20,424

0.4

Total

4499,774

100.0

Note: This table excludes 605,013 families whose incomes were not
broken down in census statistics. Their total income in 1950 was 374.8
million pesos per month and that of the 4.5 million families shown here
was 1,594.9 million pesos.

Source: Mexico, Direcci6n General de Estadfstica, Septimo censo general
de poblacidn, 6 de junio de 1950, Parte Especial (Mexico City: Author,
1955), P- 68.

The 1950 census data on the distribution of income
among workers and employers for the various sectors of
the economy further underlines the poverty of most Mexi-
cans. Approximately 63 per cent of all workers earned less
than 200 pesos a month; of these, 50 per cent were in agri-
culture, 18 per cent in industry, and 30 per cent in com-
merce. Approximately 80 per cent of the employees and

Mexico Since Cardenas

325

employers reported an annual income of less than 4,000
pesos. This suggests that the category patron, or employer,
included many small-scale operators in addition to ejida-
tarios, small landholders, vendors of all kinds, and as well
all those self-employed. About three-fourths of the 3 per
cent of the nation's workers who earn 9,600 pesos a year
are occupied in industry, commerce, and services, as op-
posed to only 3 per cent of these high earners employed in
agriculture. However, 1,773 or one-fourth of all employer
incomes of 50,000 to 250,000 pesos and over were derived
from agriculture.

In a recently published study by the Mexican economist,
Ifigenia M. de Navarrete, we learn that, in 1957, 2,665,000
families (46 per cent) had a monthly income of less than
500 pesos and received 14 per cent of the total income. By
contrast, 286,686 families (5 per cent) had a monthly in-
come of over 3,000 pesos and received 37 per cent of the
total national income.

Between 1950 and 1957 family income in the nation as
a whole rose by 23 per cent. However, the distribution of
this increase was uneven. The alarming fact is that the 20
per cent of the families at the lower end of the income
scale showed both a relative and an absolute decrease in

Table 5
Total Families and Total Income

(in per

cent)

Economic

Mexico

United States

England

class

I95° J957
F I F I

1935 J952
F I F I

I952

F I

Lower class
Middle class
Well-to-do

70 31 65 25

18 17 19 18

7 12 11 20

47 l8 40 *5
35 33 4o 39
11 18 10 15

40 17

40 39
10 14

Wealthy

5 40 5 37

7 31 10 31

10 30

Note: F = Families; I = Income.

Source: Ifigenia M. de Navarrete, La distribucidn del ingreso y el des-
arrollo econdmico de Mexico (Mexico City: Instituto de Investigaciones Eco-
n6micas, Escuela Nacional de Economia, i960), p. 88.

326 Social Change in Latin America Today

income, whereas the families which occupied the seventh,
eighth, ninth, and tenth places in the scale, i.e., the upper
40 per cent, showed by far the greatest income gains. The
essential data are shown in Table 5.

In commenting upon the increasing inequality of in-
come distribution in Mexico and the suffering caused by
inflation, a Fortune study noted:

Indeed, it might correctly be said that the true hero of the
Mexican investment boom is the ordinary Mexican worker,
whose acceptance of a declining real income has in effect
"subsidized" much of the nation's building.

It is a token of Mexico's political stability that this program
of chronic inflation has been accompanied by no political dis-
orders or even by any noticeable diminution in the popularity
of the party in power. The Party of Revolutionary Institu-
tions, which elected Ruiz Cortines in 1952, appears to remain
the overwhelming favorite of Mexican voters. In a nation with
a long and violent history of religious warfare, the P.R.I, gets
the votes of both Catholics and anti-clericals. It is supported
by labor and by large numbers of businessmen too; and above
all it is supported by the campesinos, the Mexican peasant.71

Levels of Living

The great majority of Mexicans are still living on what
Cline has called the "impoverished level" or the "survival
level and below." 72 Whetten, writing in 1950, summarized
the situation in these words:

. . . the vast majority of the Mexican people . . . live near the
subsistence level, have received little or no education, are
confronted with lack of sanitation, ill health, a high death
rate and general poverty.73

71 Seligman, cited, p. 173.

72 Howard F. Cline, The United States and Mexico (Cambridge: Har-
vard University Press, 1953).

73 Nathan L. Whetten, "The Rise of the Middle Class in Mexico," La
close media en Bolivia, Brasil, Chile y Paraguay, v. 2 of Theo R.
Crevenna, ed., Materiales para el estudio de la clase media en la America
latina (Washington: Pan American Union, 1950; 6 v.).

Mexico Since Cardenas 327

Later a young Mexican industrialist noted:

Since 1945 our economy has improved by 50 per cent but not-
withstanding ... 50 per cent of all Mexicans have a level of
living equal to or inferior to what they had 50 years ago.74

In the course of my village and urban studies I have
found many peasants, once Zapatistas, who are embittered
by the high cost of living and now look back with nostalgia
to the "good old Diaz days" when living was cheap. As one
villager put it, "Yes, we have freedom now, but we can't
eat it. There are villagers here who are suffering hunger."
I have found similar attitudes expressed among the very
poor in the city slums.

There is also evidence, however, of a considerable im-
provement in some aspects of the levels of living of the
population taken as a whole. To some degree the increased
national wealth has seeped down to the lower classes in
both city and country. According to the population cen-
suses of 1940 and 1950, we find an increase in the number
of the population wearing shoes, from 9.7 to 13.5 million;
an increase in the number wearing huaraches, from 4.6 to
6.6 million; and a decrease in the number going barefoot
from 5.2 to 4.7 million. The proportion of the total popu-
lation eating wheat bread rose by 7.8 per cent. These fig-
ures reflect important changes in rural areas. They tell us
relatively little, however, about changes in living condi-
tions in the cities, where items like bread and shoes have
long been customary.

In my own study of several vecindades, or settlements,
in a poor section of Mexico City made in 1956, I have
found clear evidence of a rise in the standard of living,
most of which had taken place in the last five years. Many
modern conveniences have found their way into the already
crowded one-room homes, sometimes forcing the residents
to build little balconies or tapancos for sleeping space,
which they reach by ladder. Most of the new items are

74 Alfonso Noriega, Mexico debe bastarse a si mismo (Mexico City:
Confederaci6n de Camaras Industriales, 1956).

328 Social Change in Latin America Today

bought on the installment plan and more than half of the
families are deeply in debt. One-third of all the families
with television sets in one vecindad were from two to three
months in arrears on the rent.

In a sample of 70 out of 157 households in one poor
vecindad, I found 56 radios, 39 gas stoves, 33 sewing ma-
chines, 44 wristwatches, 35 families who used knives and
forks (spoons are common, but most eating is done with
the tortilla and the hands), 26 who used aluminum pans
as well as clay pots, 16 blenders (informants referred to
the traditional stone mortar and pestle as the Mexican
blender), 15 television sets, 7 washing machines, and 4 cars.
Radios have, in fact, become so common as no longer to
serve as an indicator of income level. Gas stoves, TV sets,
and the use of cubiertos or silverware in eating are now
the most useful indices.

The one aspect of living standards that has improved
very little, if any, is housing. On the contrary, under the
pressure of the rapidly rising population and growing
urbanization, crowding and slum conditions in the large
cities, especially Mexico City, are getting worse day by day.
Of the 5.2 million dwellings in Mexico in 1950, 60.2 per
cent had only one room and 24.1 per cent had two rooms.75
In the same year, 70 per cent of all houses were made of
adobe, wood, poles and rods, or rubble; only 1 8.4 per cent
were of brick and masonry. Only 17 per cent of the homes
had individual piped water; only 26 per cent even shared
a piped-water supply with other families. The remaining
57 per cent used wells, cisterns, or tanks— or had no water
supply. Conditions in Mexico City were little different. In
1950, 46 per cent of the 626,262 dwellings had only one
room and 23 per cent had two rooms. Only 45 per cent
had private piped-water supplies, and 47 per cent shared
water supplies with other families, probably in the form of
a communal tap.76

75 Compendio estadistico, 1914, p. 104.

76 Same, p. 114.

Mexico Since Cardenas

329

Between 1940 and 1952 the population of Mexico City
increased by 92 per cent while the area of the city grew by
only 38 per cent. Meanwhile, between 1947 and 1952, its
slum areas had increased from 3.8 to 12.7 per cent of the
total city area. It is estimated that from 1940 to 1954 there
was an increase of 296,000 families in Mexico City; during
this period 176,596 houses were constructed, leaving a
deficit of 119,404 houses.77 The same situation is true of
the country as a whole: to meet housing needs, it is esti-
mated that 150,000 houses a year would have to be built
for many years to come.

The building boom in Mexico since 1940 has benefited
principally the middle and upper classes. Most building
has been of elegant, private homes, apart from a dozen or
so large modern apartment buildings constructed for gov-
ernment workers in the past ten years.

Education

Facilities for education and the number of children at-
tending school have increased steadily in Mexico since
1940. The number of primary schools increased by 17 per
cent between 1940 and 1954, and the number of children
registered by 76 per cent.78 In 1953 there were over 500
secondary schools counted (a growth of 82 per cent since
1946), most of them in urban centers. Between 1946 and
1955, the number of kindergartens also increased by almost
100 per cent. A larger proportion of urban children than
rural go to school, and the urban advantage is steadily in-
creasing. For example, in 1955 the Federal District re-
ported that 80.3 per cent of its children were registered in
schools; in the same year the Federal District alone had
about one-third of the nation's primary-school children

77 Ram6n Ramirez G6mez, "El problema de la habitacidn y los niveles
de vida," in Escuela National de Economia, Niveles de vida y desarrollo
Econdmico (Mexico City: Universidad National Aut6noma de Mexico,
1953), p. 225.

78 Exclusive of kindergarten enrollment. UNESCO, World Survey of
Education, v. 2: Primary Education (Paris: Author, 1958), p. 714.

ggo Social Change in Latin America Today

and teachers. For the country as a whole, the estimated
proportion of children between five and fourteen attend-
ing primary school rose from 40 per cent in 1940-1944 to
47 per cent in 1950-1 954.™

Technical schools, under the jurisdiction of the Insti-
tute Politecnico Nacional, have more than doubled in
number and enrollments since 1940. In 1954 there were 46
such schools with 21,218 students; the number of students
had jumped to 26,800 in 1956. By contrast, agricultural
schools declined in number, from 17 in 1940 to 12 in 1954,
and registration remained about the same. The Mexican
National University grew 19 per cent from 1951 to 1954,
attaining a registration of 32,813 in the latter year. Profes-
sional degrees awarded in federal and state colleges and
universities throughout the country increased by 134 per
cent between 1950 and 1954, reaching a high of 13,658 in

1954.

Within the educational system standards for the teaching
profession have become more rigorous— more teachers are
receiving degrees from normal schools. To meet the prob-
lem of upgrading undertrained teachers, a Teacher Train-
ing Institute was established in Mexico City in 1954; by
1956, 5,414 teachers were taking in-service training. The
U.S. government program has also helped by awarding
grants to Mexicans for study in the United States; a total
of 237 grants was made between 1949 and 1955.80

79 Same. The Mexican Secretaria de Educaci6n reports that the propor-
tion of children six to fourteen years old attending school rose from 41
per cent in 1940 to 56 per cent in 1954. (Education, October 1958, p. 80.)

80 I talked with the cultural attach^ and staff at the U.S. embassy and,
on the basis of their data, it seems the educational exchange program of
the United States has not appreciably expanded since 1955. On the con-
trary, it seems not to have expanded at all. In view of the need for this
program, I consider this state of affairs lamentable. In i960 the total budget
for the exchange program was $210,000, of which only $137,000 was avail-
able for Mexicans (professors and students, etc.) to visit the United States.
From 1956 to i960 there were only 179 grants. Some of these were for
student groups of as many as 30 students. I might add that the exchange
programs have been growing on a university-to-university basis. The
University of Texas has an exchange with the Technological Institute of
Monterrey, and Montana State College has a special program for training

Mexico Since Cardenas 331

Although the advances in education have been substan-
tial, many serious problems remain. Rising costs have
meant that the fivefold increase in the federal budget for
education between 1941-1953 made a much smaller real
contribution to educational resources. The rise in the cost
of education, combined with the rapid rise in population,
makes it very difficult for Mexico to solve its educational
problem. In 1956, 42 per cent of Mexican children of
school age were still not going to school. In 1953, only 8
per cent of the children between ages five and six were
attending kindergarten. In 1954, 81.7 per cent of the rural
schools taught only through the third grade or less, and a
mere 5.1 per cent of the children of primary-school age
reached the sixth grade. Secondary-school education is still
a luxury; in 1953, only 3.9 per cent of the youth between
the ages of fifteen and twenty-four attended secondary,
vocational, or normal schools. The proportion attending
colleges and universities was far smaller. Over 40 per cent
of the Mexican population was still illiterate in the mid-
1950's.81

Despite these handicaps the many-pronged attack on
backwardness and illiteracy in Mexico is admirable and
must be greatly expanded. The lack of well-trained per-
sonnel, particularly in rural areas where the conditions o£
life are often difficult, seriously impedes progress. Work
is further handicapped by inadequate budgets, a continu-
ally expanding population, and resistance to attending^
schools due to the pressure of poverty and other cultural
factors. The greatest progress in education has been made
among urbanized groups, especially the middle class. The
rate of expansion of post-primary schools and in the field

in industry. The University of Chicago and Harvard have research pro-
grams going on in Chiapas in cooperation with the National Indian
Institute. Antioch College has set up a branch at Guanajuato. This is just
an example of the growing interaction between the two countries on the
intellectual plane.

81 The illiteracy rate for people six years old and over fell from 66.6 per
cent in 1930 to 58 per cent in 1940 and 43.2 per cent in 1950. UNESCO*
World Illiteracy at Mid-Century (Paris: Author, 1957), p. 95.

332 Social Change in Latin America Today

of higher education has been much more rapid than that
of primary schools.

Perhaps more significant than the quantitative changes
have been the shifts in the conception of the role of the
school in society and the attitudes of teachers toward their
work. The earlier revolutionary concept of the school as a
major instrument of cultural change and social reform
seems to have given way to a more prosaic emphasis on the
three R's with little reference to integrating the content of
education with local community needs. Except for a few
Indianists, who still show some glimmer of the old dedica-
tion, the passionate idealism and desire for service of the
1930's also seem to have died out. Today, most teachers
and administrators seem to be primarily concerned with
improving their own working conditions and prospects.

Religion

Since 1940, the Catholic Church has regained much of
the influence it had lost in the Revolution. The constitu-
tion of 1917, which severely restricted the educational,
political, and economic activities of the church and the
clergy, apparently has not been seriously enforced by the
Camacho or succeeding administrations. In 1941, Camacho
became the first president since the Revolution to declare
publicly that he was "a believer." His precedent was fol-
lowed by President Aleman. President Ruiz Cortines de-
clared only that "I am respectful," but relations between
government and church continue to be amicable.

The recovery of its influence by the church has con-
tinued apace. In an interview given to Time magazine
(May 9, 1955) the late Archbishop Martinez could say:
"The only thing that now remains is to change the consti-
tution. Today the church's schools which until recently
had to develop their activities secretly, function openly
[although they still carry the names of Mexican patriots
instead of saints]. There are thirty-four seminaries prepar-
ing about 2,000 young priests. In Mexico City alone, about

Mexico Since Cardenas 333

twenty churches have been built in the past year, with
twenty-three more under construction. Never have we seen
such afflux to the temples. . . ."

The number of priests has multiplied significantly, al-
though the proportion of growth is still far below that of
other Catholic countries. In 1955, there was one priest for
each 6,450 inhabitants.82 In 1935, there were "less than 500
ecclesiastics in the country and in half the states they did
not permit any priest to officiate. . . ." 83 The Eleventh
National Assembly of the Mexican Catholic Action, held
on August 2, 1955, reported that there were 5,777 cate-
chism centers in Mexico, imparting religious instruction
to 250,000 children and 32,516 adults.84

The church has greatly increased its organizational ac-
tivity. Since the early 1950's there has been a noticeable
increase in the number of congresses and conferences of
prelates, public ceremonials, dedications, parades, and pil-
grimages. The church has also carried on an intense pro-
gram of the glorification of the Virgin Mary and of the
Virgin of Guadalupe, both highly effective symbols. Or-
ganized groups of the faithful from trade-unions, shops,
housing settlements, villages, and towns make regular pil-
grimages to the shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe, in Mex-
ico City, on a scale greater than at any time since the days
of Diaz. At the five hundredth anniversary of the corona-
tion of the Virgin of Guadalupe, the church initiated a
series of celebrations which brought worshipers and high
clergy to the Basilica of Guadalupe from all over the
hemisphere. The Pope sent a special representative and a
message, in which he designated the Virgin Mary as the
Universal Patron Saint of Latin America.

Once again the church has made some attempt to
emerge as a political force in the country. In the election

82 La Iglesia en Amirica Latina: Problemas de Latinoamerica, no. 2,
1956, p. 42.

83 Stephen S. Goodspeed, "El papel del jefe del ejecutivo en Mexico,"
Problemas Agricolas e Industrials de Mexico, January-March 1955.

84 Excelsior, August 28, 1955.

334 Social Change in Latin America Today

of deputies on July 3, 1955, two Catholic leaders, one the
president of Juventud Catolica, the other the president of
Accion Catolica and Pax Romana, ran for office. An ex-
president of the Asociacion Catolica de la Juventud Mexi-
cana was a member of the Camara de Diputados in 1955.85
In the election of 1955, the combined vote of the religious
partidos confesionales (Partido de Accion Nacional) ac-
counted for 32.7 per cent of the total in the Federal Dis-
trict, compared with 16.2 per cent in 1946.86

The Changing Social Structure

The class structure of contemporary Mexico is still in a
process of steady change, and although the basic patterns
are evident, clear-cut lines cannot always be drawn. The
problem of describing the changes is complicated by the
lack of careful social, economic, and psychological studies
of each of the major social groupings and of the criteria
that mark one off from the other. We know most about
some sectors of the rural population, thanks to community
studies made by anthropologists. However, we know rela-
tively little about the non-Indian rural areas and even less
about the large rural proletariat. Our knowledge of the
urban class structure is superficial, at best, and much work
needs to be done, particularly to trace the rapid pace of
urbanization and industrialization.

To understand Mexican social structure we must take
into account rural-urban differences, class divisions and
subdivisions, and also Indian, transitional, and modern
culture types.

The present social structure is more complex than that
of prer evolutionary days, when class lines were more
sharply drawn. The upper class today consists of the rem-
nants of the old, aristocratic families and of a new class of
bankers, industrialists, and big businessmen who man-
aged to rise up out of the middle and lower classes during

85 trltimas Noticias, September 3, 1955.

86 La Iglesia . . . , cited, pp. 55-56.

Mexico Since Cardenas 335

the turbulent postrevolutionary days. Many of them got
their start because of connections with the revolutionary
leaders, who then became high officials in the government
and army. The new upper class is essentially a nonaristo-
cratic group, interested in fostering social change and eco-
nomic growth. Individual annual incomes here range from
50,000 to 250,000 pesos and over, but the class makes up
less than one per cent of the population. The majority
reside in cities and live in a manner similar to that of
wealthy people elsewhere in the Western world.
Of this entrepreneurial group, Maddox writes:

Few of its members had inherited the traditional, status-
burdened concepts of the old landholding group, in which
change either in technological processes of production or in
economic and social relationships was suspect and something
to be handled with care and "proper" guidance. As a result,
risk-taking entrepreneurship received an important "shot-in-
the-arm" from the change in political power.87

The growth of the middle class over the last fifteen years
is one of the important developments. This process had, it
is true, received its first impetus under Diaz, when foreign
companies invested in mines, railroads, and oil, and en-
couraged the training of technicians, managers, clerical
workers, scientists, and professionals. It was this group that
led the Revolution, gave it its ideology, and carried out
much of the constructive work in the postrevolutionary
period.

Between 1895 and 1940, the middle class as a whole grew
from 7.8 to 15.9 per cent of the total population and in-
creased in numbers from less than one million to over
three million, or by 2 1 5 per cent. Although the upper and
lower classes both declined in rural areas, the middle class
increased there by no less than 125.9 Per cent- The urban
middle class likewise increased by almost 100 per cent.88
Since 1940, the middle class has grown even more rapidly

87 Cited, p. 31.

88 Iturriaga, cited, p. 28.

336 Social Change in Latin America Today

as a by-product of industrialization and urbanization and
now probably constitutes about 20 per cent of the total
population.

This new middle class is varied in membership and diffi-
cult to define. Lines between the middle class, on the one
hand, and the upper and lower classes on the other, are
tenuous, and recruits enter the middle class from above
and below. Most observers include in it government work-
ers, teachers, small businessmen, storekeepers, skilled la-
borers, small industrialists, intellectuals and professionals,
and, in addition, small landowners and ejidatarios. There
is a wide range in the income and standard of living; fam-
ilies in this group may earn between 5,000 and 50,000
pesos a year. They live in houses ranging from the man-
sions of the Lomas de Chapultepec to the slum dwellings
of small merchants. Cline has described the middle class
as "mainly . . . defined by its economic dependence on per-
sonal work which requires education, technical training,
or administrative abilities— equipment the individual has
developed for himself." 8d

Iturriaga divides the middle class into two major groups:
the autonomous or self-employed and the dependent or
salaried workers. Table 6 shows the changes in these
groups in both the rural and urban middle class from 1 895
to 1940:

Table 6

Changes in the Middle Class, 1895-1940

Group

Autonomous

Dependent

1895 l94°

Per Cent Per Cent Per Cent Per Cent

Rural Urban Rural Urban

91.03 60.93 5°-82 3°°9

8-97 39°7 49-lS 69-9*

Source: Jos£ E. Iturriaga, La estructura social y cultural de Mexico
(Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Economica, 1951), p. 70.

89 Cited, p. 84.

Mexico Since Cardenas 337

There has been, as we can see, a notable increase in the
number of salaried workers in both rural and urban areas.
The breaking up of the haciendas with their few adminis-
trators into smaller holdings with more employees, the
development of municipal governments, and the growth
of large cotton and sugar mills account for the increase of
salaried employees in rural areas. In the cities, the growth
of governmental activities and of business and industry is
responsible for the increase of salaried workers. Many mar-
ginal businesses, industries, and shops have been squeezed
out by firms with larger capital and modernized tech-
niques. In effect, the middle class has changed from being
primarily autonomous to being largely dependent on sal-
aried employment.

Some intellectuals and bureaucrats tend to eulogize the
middle class, seeing in it the hope and future of Mexico.
Thus, Lucio Mendieta y Nunez writes that the middle
class places great value upon education, science, and cul-
ture, has a high ethical and religious sense, derives moral
satisfaction from work, has a stable economic base, and is
conservative and progressive at the same time:

Taken as a whole, the Mexican middle class has moral
habits. The success of businesses selling articles, furniture, and
automobiles on the installment plan is a clear demonstration
that the middle class fulfills its contracts, guided by a high
sense of social responsibility. The large number of marriages,
the low number of divorces, the increase of life insurance, the
private primary and preparatory schools, the enormous num-
ber of students in the universities and polytechnic institutes,
are additional signs that Mexico's middle class is undoubtedly
concerned with the stability of the family and the well-being
and future of its children.90

Also, he writes, "The middle class in Mexico seems to be
in addition the possessor and conserver of all the national

90 "La clase media en Mexico," Revista Mexicana de Sociologia, nos.
2-3» 1955. P- 529-

338 Social Change in Latin America Today

qualities; it must therefore be consolidated and strength-
ened. . . ." 91

The "popular class" or the lower class, like its counter-
parts all over the world, has the lowest incomes and the
lowest standard of living, performs the most laborious
manual work, and has the highest death rate. In Mexico,
this is accompanied by the highest incidence of illiteracy
and scanty educational opportunities. Some significant
changes, however, have occurred in its situation over the
past half-century. The proportion of the lower class in the
total population declined from 90.8 per cent in 1895 to
83.08 per cent in 1940. In 1895, the lower class was pre-
ponderantly rural; only 14.2 per cent lived in the cities. In
1940, 22.4 per cent were urban. Before the Revolution, the
vast majority (80.7 per cent) of the lower class were land-
less agricultural workers; after the ejidos were established,
the number of peones decreased approximately 1 7 per cent
and a new class of ejidatarios, many of whom can be classi-
fied as middle class, formed 26.4 per cent of the total popu-
lation. During this period the number of small landowners,
rural artisans, small traders, and people engaged in other
occupations in rural areas also decreased by about 10 per
cent.92

In the cities the number of workers, industrial and
other, has increased markedly, whereas lower-class arti-
sans and traders have decreased. In 1895, workers consti-
tuted only 20.3 per cent of the lower class; in 1940, 61.3
per cent.93 The industrial workers in urban centers are
more class-conscious than other sectors of the lower class,
especially rural workers. Despite this class feeling, in 1948
only 3.2 per cent of the Mexican population were union-
ized.94

The census of 1940, under the influence of the Indian-
ists, included a number of items, such as shoes, beds, wheat

91 Same, p. 531.

92 Iturriaga, cited, p. 34.

93 Same, p. 41.

94 Same, p. 56.

Mexico Since Cardenas 339

bread, knowledge of Spanish, which were considered in-
dices of the level of living and of Indian-rae^izo-modern
differences. Following this suggestion, Cline describes the
Indian world:

At the bottom of Mexican cultural strata are nearly two
million Indians who live in abject squalor and travel about
barefoot. Plagued by diseases, exploited by their fellows and
more modernized Mexicans, they exist but do not live. . . .
Just above the barefoot group are those who wear huaraches
but retain native costumes, in whole or part; numbering
nearly half a million, they often have ranchos of their own
or subsist in village communities that are generally inade-
quately supplied with elementary cultural equipment. More
changed, and sometimes happier, are still another group of
nearly equal size who have given up their native costumes for
the characteristic peasant dress of rural workers— white pajama-
like pants and blouses and straw hats; many now even wear
overalls like the unskilled laborers of towns and cities. Except
for their ignorance of Spanish they are Mexican; they are In-
dian only in language, and even that sometimes is shared. . . .
there are more than 100,000 Indians who live better than the
great majority of more culturally "modern" people. By cling-
ing to their native costumes, but combining them with the
use of shoes— a sign of affluence in Mexico— they really com-
plicate the definition of an Indian. . . .

Much the same socially and economically are more than
150,000 individuals who speak Indian tongues habitually, but
have a knowledge of Spanish and have forsaken native dress.95

The transitional world is made up of the 85 per cent of
the population who do not use or know any native tongue
and who speak Spanish exclusively. "All the transitional
world speaks Spanish, is Roman Catholic, customarily eats
maize rather than wheat, and looks to modern centers for
many of its values and equipment, physical and cultural. It
is the backbone of rural Mexico and is now flooding the
cities." 96 Over three million of these still go barefoot and
live at as miserable a level as the poorest Indian. Over a

95 Cited, pp. 78-79.

96 Same, p. 81.

340 Social Ciange in Latin America Today

million still wear Indian dress but combine this with the
use of huaraches or shoes. Some, such as independent land-
owners, merchants, political leaders, and villagers have a
higher social and economic status and have long been ex-
posed to European culture. The rest of the transitional
world is made up of about three million people in the city
and country who take on new ways quickly while still re-
taining many Indian traits.

The modern world of Mexico includes persons on every
socio-economic level. Their unifying bond is the use of
Spanish, the wearing of modern dress, and their identifica-
tion with Mexico as a nation, rather than with a native
village or state. In other words, they consider themselves
"Mexicans" rather than Tepoztecans or Yucatecans.

These three cultural divisions are distributed among
the total population as shown in Table 7:

Table 7

Major Mexican Groups, 1940

Cultural Divisions

Persons (millions)

Per Cent

The Indian world

2-945

15.0

The transitional world

7.268

37-°

The modern world

9441

48.0

Total

19.654

100.0

Source: Howard F. Cline, The United States and Mexico (Cambridge:
Harvard University Press, 1953), p. 76.

Mexico has made great progress on many fronts since
1940. The economy has been expanding and the country
has become production-conscious as never before. Leading
newspapers daily headline record-breaking achievements
in agriculture and industry. The spurt toward industrial-
ization which began with World War II has not been a
temporary phenomenon, as some observers of the Mexican
scene had expected. Indeed, the expansion of the economy

Mexico Since Cardenas 341

since 1950 has been greater than that in the preceding ten
years. A boom spirit has been created reminiscent of the
great expansion in the United States at the turn of the cen-
tury. Further, this rapid increase in Mexican production
has been accomplished with relatively little assistance from
abroad. The difficult undertaking of industrialization has
been aided by several advantages derived from Mexico's
position as a neighbor of the United States. For one thing,
the bracero movement, by giving employment to surplus
labor, has helped the process of industrialization. Simi-
larly, the U.S. tourist trade provides many needed dollars
to pay for imports of machinery and other equipment re-
quired for industrializing the country.

Despite a rapidly growing population, Mexico has man-
aged to produce enough food to meet its needs except in
drought years. Bringing another nine million hectares of
new land under cultivation through irrigation should take
care of further population increases in the next fifty or
one hundred years. In addition, Mexico's new export agri-
culture is providing an important source of national in-
come, indirectly helping the country to industrialize. Like
the ejidatarios, the new commercial farmers may soon be-
come a political force to be reckoned.

The modernization of agriculture, however, is only a
limited phenomenon, concentrated mainly in the north
and north Pacific regions. Elsewhere the great mass of the
peasantry, both ejidatarios and owners of private holdings,
continue to work their tiny subsistence holdings with tra-
ditional backward methods. The contrast between the new
and the old agriculture in Mexico is becoming ever
sharper. Thus, whereas less than 1 per cent of the culti-
vated land is worked with the aid of 50,000 tractors, about
20 per cent of the cultivated land is still worked by the
pre-Hispanic method of cutting and burning. Indeed, in
many areas the peasants are abandoning the plow and re-
verting to the more primitive hoe culture, in an effort to
avoid the devastating effects of inflation.

Improved standards of living, a general trend since 1 940,

342 Social Change in Latin America Today

are reflected in a variety of ways. More and more rural
people sleep on beds instead of on the ground, wear shoes
instead of huar aches or instead of going barefoot, use
store-made pants instead of the home-made white cotton
calzones, eat bread in addition to tortillas, grind their corn
in the mill instead of by hand, drink beer instead of
pulque, resort to doctors instead of curanderos, and travel
by bus or train instead of on foot or by burro. In the towns
and cities the trend has been from adobe to cement, from
clay pots to aluminum, from cooking with charcoal to
cooking with gas, from eating with tortillas to eating with
tableware, from phonographs to radios and TV, from cot-
tons to nylons, and from cognac to whiskey.

One of the most impressive gains since 1940 has been
the growth of political democracy and a much greater sense
of national unity. The role of the military in political life
has been markedly reduced, and Mexico has enjoyed years
of stability and peaceful elections. Mexico has a free press,
freedom of speech, and freedom of worship. There are no
political prisoners and the country is a haven for political
refugees from countries throughout the Western Hemi-
sphere.97 The atmosphere of greater liberty can be meas-
ured in the fact that an occasional presidential adviser has
published criticism of his government without losing his
post.

The present government is also much more representa-
tive of the various sectors of the Mexican population than
was the paternalistic government under Diaz, although its
base of popular participation is less broad than it was un-
der Cardenas. The new upper class, though small and not
well organized, has become increasingly influential in de-
termining national policy, while the influence of organized
labor and the ejidatarios has declined sharply. Neverthe-

97 This paragraph, optimistic when I wrote it in 1956, is now out of
date. The jailing of the leaders of the unsuccessful railroad strike in 1958
and of the renowned painter and avowed Communist David Alfaro Siquei-
ros in 1960, because of his support of an antigovernment student demon-
stration, has given Mexico more than a few political prisoners.

Mexico Since Cardenas 343

less, in the event of a political crisis, the government could
probably count on the mass support of the two latter
groups.

In spite of its great advances since 1940, Mexico is not
yet a modern industrial nation. It still exhibits some char-
acteristics of an agrarian colonial and underdeveloped
country. Among key weaknesses are: the predominant role
of foreign investment in certain basic industries, such as
mining, and in strategic utilities, such as telephones and
electricity; the continued dependence upon U.S.-controlled
corporations for its automobiles and trucks, which are as-
sembled but not manufactured in Mexico; the great lag
in the modernization of its national railroad system; and
its dependence upon the export of raw materials to pay
for the importation of manufactured goods.

Even more serious, in terms of potential political conse-
quences, is the failure to realize fully many of the social
objectives of the Mexican Revolution. In i960, over 60
per cent of the population are still ill fed, ill clothed, and
ill housed, over 40 per cent are illiterate, and some 45 per
cent of the nation's children are not being schooled. The
national wealth has greatly increased since 1940, but the
disparity between rich and poor is even more striking than
before, despite some rise in the general standard of living.
Some Mexicans are worried by this concentration of wealth
and fear the possibility of political unrest unless the trend
is corrected. However, given the high threshold for suffer-
ing of the Mexican people, it seems safe to predict that the
present political stability will continue for some years to
come.

Relations between the United States and Mexico have
improved greatly since 1940. The traditional fear of the
United States has been reduced, and Mexicans seem more
confident of their national sovereignty and of their ability
to cope with their many problems. Mexico's own eco-
nomic and cultural progress makes its people more self-
reliant and therefore more relaxed in its dealings with its
northern neighbor. This change, together with increased

344 Social Change in Latin America Today

contact with U.S. citizens and generally broadened hori-
zons, has reduced anti-gringoism. There is little evidence
of anti-U.S. sentiment among the rural population or
among the urban poor, except where the Sinarquistas have
been active over a long period. Anti-U.S. feeling on the
whole is strongest among the small Mexican industrialists
who feel threatened by the giant U.S. corporations and
their subsidiaries. This group has sought to influence gov-
ernment policy toward more stringent controls over for-
eign investment. Left-wing groups likewise attack foreign
investment as further evidence of U.S. imperialism. How-
ever, unlike the old imperialism that carried with it the
threat of armed force, the new type of dependency offers a
much more diffuse target to nationalist and leftist attacks.
It is significant, though, that the major actual or potential
points of tension between the two countries do result from
the dependency relationship: for example, reliance upon
tourist income, seasonal employment for unemployed agri-
cultural workers, the inflow of U.S. capital, and subjection
to the ups and downs of U.S. markets. These factors, along
with the increasing exodus of Mexicans to become per-
manent U.S. residents and citizens, arouse some old sensi-
tivities among many Mexicans, giving rise to resentment
and insecurity. Many thoughtful Mexicans who value
highly the traditional Mexican culture also view with ap-
prehension the increasing spread of a wide variety of U.S.
culture traits, ranging from Santa Claus to psychoanalysis.
Because of the long and now more intimate association
between the two countries, Mexico and its strenuous ambi-
tions for self-advancement offer a special challenge to U.S.
policy. Here, the United States can, with respect for Mex-
ico's cultural differences and sympathy for its expanding
aspirations, help an ambitious and energetic Latin Ameri-
can people complete its emergence into the world of mod-
ern nations. Here, private business and cultural initiatives
are understood and supported by an increasingly influen-
tial and active middle and professional class. Here, aid,
cultural and economic, can flow through numerous and

Mexico Since Cardenas 345

already established channels of communication, demon-
strating the reality of mutual respect and reciprocal inter-
ests. And because of Mexico's prestige among Latin
American nations as a people that has carried out an
authentic national revolution of its own, Mexico can also
be, more than any other Latin neighbor, both a testing-
ground and an interpreter of the value and advantages of
friendship and cooperation with the United States.

INDEX

Agricultural production

Bolivia, 128, 130, 139, 166-67

Brazil, 196-98

Guatemala, 249-50

Mexico, 312-16
Agriculture, 3, 52

Bolivia, 128, 139, 161-63

Brazil, 179, 215-17

Guatemala, 244-45, 258, 259-60

Mexico, 289, 300, 301, 312
Aguilar, Simon, 121-22
Aleman, Miguel, 323, 332
Alianza Popular Revolucionaria

Americana; see APRA
Alvarez Plata, Federico, 136
Amado, Jorge, 206
Anti-Americanism; see U.S., atti-
tude toward
APRA, 72
Arbenz Guzman, Jacobo, 56, 234,

246, 249, 255, 269-73, 283
Arevalo, Juan Jose, 234, 246, 249,

255, 260, 283
Argentina, 18-19, 22, 5^» 212
Armed forces, 37, 54

Mexico, 301-02, 342

role in politics, 55-56

and U.S. policy, 60
Army officers, 26
Arze Loureiro, Eduardo, 126
Atlantic Charter, 43, 233
Avanzadas Universitarias (Bolivia),

125
Avila Camacho, Manuel, 323, 332

Barros, Adhemar de, 177, 214, 226
Benites Vinueza, Leopoldo, 30
Bolivia, 4, 66, 75

agriculture, 128, 130, 139, 161-63,

166-67
economy, 114, 166-68
export, 130, 155-57, 167-75
Indians, 19, 21, 109, 111-14, n6,

119 ft\, 137-42
integration, 142-47, 149 51
land reform, 109, 110, 119-28
mestizos, 113, 120, 143 ff.
middle class, 8, 25-26
nationalization, 109, 116, 129-30,

158-59
1952 revolution, 108-09, no-11,

1 16 ff, 158, 164-65
petroleum, 136-37, 167
politics, 11, 115 ff., 130 ff., 157 ff.,

174-76
social structure, 138-42
stabilization, 132 ff., 159-60, 170-

71, 174, 176
tin, 129-30, 134, 155-57, 167. 175
upper class, 109, 111, 139-40
U.S. aid, 109-10, 130-31, 133, 137,

151-57
evaluation, 157-68, 170-76
Bowles, Chester, quoted, 106-07
Bracero movement, 291-94, 301, 341
Brazil, 4, 9, 13, 21, 22, 45, 48, 53,
281
agriculture, 179, 196-98, 215-17
economy, 178-80, 193-201
education, 201-05, 220
exports, 197, 200-01, 208, 209
immigration, 182, 189, 191-92, 223-

24, 225-26
labor, 210-17, 228
lower class, 182-87, 209 ff., 228
middle class, 182, 217-23, 228-29

347

348

Social Change in Latin America Today

Brazil (Cont.)
politics, 177-78, 206-08, 212-14,

222-23, 226-27
population change, 189-92
social structure, 179-87, 209-22

change, 178-79, 188, 208, 222-30
stabilization, 198-99
upper class, 180-82, 183 ff., 209,
223-27, 229
Bull fight, 45

Bunge, Carlos Octavio, quoted, 46
Business aristocracy, 22-23, 49
Businessmen, 22-23, 27

Cardenas, Lazaro, 285, 301, 323,

342
Castillo Armas, Carlos, 17, 234-35,

237» 253, 270, 272
Catholic Church, 23, 30, 53-54
Bolivia, 139, 140
Mexico, 326, 332-34
Caudillos, 31, 141, 301
Chaco war, 115, 141
Chavez, Nuflo, 123, 126, 129, 132,

135, 159
Chile, 18-19, 22, 26, 56, 281
China, Communist, 234
Cline, Howard F., quoted, 326, 336,

339
Colombia, 21, 48, 54, 56
Colonization, agricultural, 48

Bolivia, 161-62

Brazil, 48

Guatemala, 48, 272

Peru, 48
Communism

attraction of, 5, 16-17, 109» 267-
68, 275

Ecuador, 20

Guatemala, 12, 16-18, 56-57, 231,
233, 234, 236, 238, 260, 267-73

Peru, 75

threat of, 12, 38, 53, 59, 61, 231,
238
Communist party, 56-57

Brazil, 207, 213-14

Chile, 56

Guatemala, 235, 268
Consumption pattern, 52-53
Cornell-Peru project, 11, 78-97, 173
Costa Rica, 18-19, 281

Cuauhtemoc, 290-91
Cuba, 19, 56, 231
Cultural change, 144
Cultural values, 58
Brazil, 181, 182, 220-22, 224, 226,

227-29
compared with American, 9-10,
14-16, 29, 32, 33, 35, 39, 41,
47, 61-64, 266-67, 278-79
Mexico, 294-99, 337-38, 344
middle class, 10, 14-15, 24-25,
28 ff.
Cunha, Euclydes da, 186

Democracy, conditions for, 6-11, 14-

15. 57-58, 275-76
Development Loan Fund, 109
Diaz, Porfirio, 303, 333, 335, 342
Dominican Republic, 19, 231

Economic autarchy, 51
Economic blocs, 51
Economic development, 39-40

Bolivia, 166-68

Brazil, 193-96, 199

Mexico, 285-86, 299 ff., 340-41

Peru, 75-78, 99-100
Economic imperialism, American, 9,
13. 39-40, 279-80

Guatemala, 268, 280

Mexico, 306-09, 344
Ecuador, 19, 48, 55, 56
Education, 49, 51

Bolivia, 138, 150

Brazil, 201-05, 220

Mexico, 286, 298, 329-32, 343

Peru, 77
Eisenhower, Dwight D., 168, 170
Export-Import Bank, 109

Falange (Bolivia), 134, 136
Family relations, 33-34, 221
Farmers, independent, 52

Bolivia, 119 ff., 148-51

Guatemala, 248-50, 272

Mexico, 315-16, 318-19, 338, 341

Peru, 69, 100
Fatalism, 45-47

Peru, 78
Food production, 48

Bolivia, 130, 139

Index

349

Brazil, 196-97

Mexico, 314, 315, 320-21, 341
Foreign business, 39, 50-51, 60-61,
279-80

Guatemala, 256-57, 268

Mexico, 286, 295, 296
Foreign trade, 50, 51-52

Bolivia, 130, 155-57, l67> *75

Brazil, 197, 200-01, 208, 209

Mexico, 295-96, 319-21, 341, 343
France, 181
Freyre, Gilberto, quoted, 224

German Parra, Manuel, 323
Gomes, Eduardo, 222
Goodrich, Carter, 110-11
Gosilvez, Gabriel, 117, 118
Goulart, Joao, 213
Gringo Utopia, 12, 283
Guatemala, 4, 48, 283
agriculture, 244-45, 249-50, 258,

259-60
Communism, 12, 16-18, 56-57, 231,
233» 234, 236, 238, 260, 267-73
economy, 232-33, 244-45, 258-60
Indians, 19, 238-43, 258-59

integration, 253-56, 261-63, 270-

7i
labor, 233, 235, 236, 245, 248, 250-

53, 255, 260, 269, 280
land reform, 234, 235, 249, 251,

269, 272, 274
lower class, 240, 241, 250-53, 264,

280
middle class, 16-17, 247-48, 264,

270
1944 revolution, 16, 18, 234, 256-

57
1954 revolution, 17-18, 234, 251,

257, 267, 270
politics, 232-35, 244, 245-46, 248,

249, 250, 253, 254-55
social structure, 238 ff., 257-67,
270-73
change, 246-47, 257-63
U.S. aid, 234, 235, 266-67

evaluation, 235-36, 237, 272 ff.
and U.S. 12, 16-18, 233, 234, 236-

38, 268, 272 ff.
upper class, 240-41, 243-47
Guevara Arze, Walter, 124, 131, 135

Haciendas; see Latifundia
Harris, Marvin, quoted, 186
Holmberg, Allan R., 112, 143
Hutchinson, Harry W., quoted, 214-
i5» 225

Immigration, 22

Brazil, 182, 189, 191-92, 223-24,
225-26

Guatemala, 259

Mexico, 291

U.S., 286, 291-94
Inca empire, 64-65
Income distribution, 52

Brazil, 198-99, 219

Mexico, 286, 321-26, 343
Indians, 3, 18-21, 43, 187, 282

Argentina, 18-19

Bolivia, 19, 21, 78, 109, 111-14,
116, iigff., 137-42
integration, 142-47, 149-51

Chile, 18-19

Costa Rica, 18-19

Cuba, 19

Dominican Republic, 19

Ecuador, 19, 78

Guatemala, 19, 238-43, 253, 258-59
integration, 253-56, 261-62, 270-

71
integration, 3, 19-20, 22, 48, 68
Mexico, 19, 286, 287, 289-91, 313,

339-40
Paraguay, 19
Peru, 11, 19, 65, 67 ff.
integration, 68, 70-78, 97-107,

143, 147-49
Vicos project, 11, 78-97, 173
Uruguay, 18-19
Industrialization, 3-4
Bolivia, 167-68
Brazil, 193-96
Mexico, 286, 299 ff., 340-41
Inflation

Bolivia, 132 ff., 159-60, 166
Brazil, 198-99
Mexico, 323, 326
Institute of Inter-American Affairs,

100, 235
Institut International des Civili-
sations Differentes, 26
Intellectuals, 5, 8, 26, 39, 41-42, 56

35o

Social Change in Latin America Today

Intellectuals (Cont.)

Guatemala, 261

Mexico, 294, 307, 337
International Monetary Fund, 109,

154, 171, 174
Investment, foreign

Brazil, 195-96, 199-200

Guatemala, 244

Mexico, 286, 303-09, 343, 344

Peru, 77
Investment, internal, 39-40

Mexico, 300-03
Iturriaga, Jose E., quoted, 41, 336

La Barre, Weston, 112

Labor, 52

Agentina, 212

Brazil, 210-17, 228

Guatemala, 233, 245, 250-53, 280

Mexico, 312-13, 324
Labor leaders, 27
Labor unions, 49, 50, 54, 139

Brazil, 212, 228

Guatemala, 235, 236, 248, 251 ft0.,
255, 260, 269

Mexico, 286, 338, 342
Lacerda, Carlos, 222
Landed aristocracy, 21, 22, 27, 52,

54
Land reform, 52

Bolivia, 109, 110, 119-28

Guatemala, 234, 235, 249, 251,
269, 272, 274

Mexico, 286

Peru, 72
Latifundia

Bolivia, 119 ff., 140

Brazil, 185-86

Mexico, 337

Peru, 65, 70, 73-75
Lechin, Juan, 118, 125, 129, 131 ff.,

159, 176
Linke, Lilo, 111
Literacy, 49

Bolivia, 111, 138

Brazil, 179, 182, 202, 212

Mexico, 331, 338, 343
Lopez Mateos, Adolfo, 310
Lower class, 54, 264; see also Rural,
Urban proletariat

Brazil, 182-87, 209 ff., 228

Guatemala, 240, 241, 250-53, 284
Mexico, 321-29, 338-40

Marxism, 43

Bolivia, 116, 125, 141
Guatemala, 236, 268
Mass media, 55
Brazil, 205-06
Peru, 105
Materialism, 38-40
Mayan civilization, 232
Meijer, Hendrik, 216
Mestizos, 19, 22

Bolivia, 113, 120, 143 ff.
Peru, 67 ff., 102 ff.
Mexico, 4-5, 9, 12-13, 66, 75, 281
agriculture, 289, 300, 301, 312-19,

320-21, 341
economic conditions, 321-29, 341-

42, 343
economy, 285-89, 292-93, 299 ff.,

340-41, 343
emigration, 286, 291-94, 344
Indians, 19, 286, 287, 289-91, 313,

339-40
lower class, 321-29, 338-40
middle class, 8, 13, 294, 307, 331,

335-38
1910 revolution, 108, 178, 285, 343
politics, 326, 333-34, 342-43
social structure, 285-86, 321-29,

334-40, 343
tourist trade, 286, 295-96, 297,

34i, 344
upper class, 321-26, 334-35* 342
and U.S., 286, 291, 343-45

cultural influence, 293-99, 344
investments, 303-09, 343, 344
Middle class, 22, 23, 24 ff., 48, 49-50
Bolivia, 8, 25-26
Brazil, 182, 217-23, 228-29
Canada, 9-10
Chile, 26

Guatemala, 16-17, 247-48, 264, 270
Mexico, 8, 13, 294, 307, 331, 335-

38
and politics, 6-10, 14-15, 54-58,

276-77, 282
Uruguay, 25
Venezuela, 25
U.S., 9-10, 32, 33, 39

Index

35 1

values of, 10, 14-15, 24-25, 28 ff.
Middle East, 7-8
Migration, 48

Bolivia, 148

Brazil, 190-91, 210

Mexico, 287-89

Peru, 76
MNR, 111, 116 ff., 130 ff., 158, 166,
174 ff.

Vanguardia, 116, 124-25
Mosher, Arthur, quoted, 264
Mosk, Sanford, quoted, 307
Movimiento Nacionalista Revolucio-
Nario; see MNR

National economies, semi-colonial

nature of, 50-52, 58
Nationalism, 3, 277-78

Bolivia, 110, 116, 131, 141

Brazil, 222

Guatemala, 268, 277

Mexico, 294, 307-09, 344
Nationalization

Bolivia, 109, 116, 129-30, 158-59

Mexico, 304
National Revolutionary Movement

(Bolivia); see MNR
National Socialist party (Brazil),

207
Native specialists, 51

Bolivia, 161
Navarrete, Ifigenia M. de, 325
Negroes, 21

Organization of American States, 49
Ostria Gutierrez, Alberto, 111

Panama Canal, 233

Pan American Union, 100

Paraguay, 19, 50, 115

Partido Obrero Revolucionario (Bo-
livia); see POR

Partido Social Democratico (Bra-
zil), 207

Partido Social Progressista (Brazil),
226

Partido Trabalhista Brasileiro, 207,
212, 226

Party of Revolutionary Institutions
(Mexico); see PRI

Party of the Revolutionary Left

(Bolivia); see PIR
Paternalism, 36-37, 173, 279

Bolivia, 140-41

Brazil, 181, 183-87, 212, 213, 214,
227

Guatemala, 251, 259, 260, 270

Peru, 70, 75, 98-99, 173
Paz Estenssoro, Victor, 111, 1 16 ff.,

124 ff., 129-31, 133 ff., 164
Penaranda, Enrique, 116
Per capita production

Mexico, 12-13, 299, 301
Perez Guerrero, Alfredo, quoted, 30
Peru, 4, 48, 64-67

Cornell project, 11, 78-97, 173

economic development, 75-78, 99-
100

Indians, 11, 19, 65, 67 ff.

integration, 68, 70-78, 97-107,

143, 147-49
Vicos project, 11, 78-97, 173

latifundia, 70, 73-75

mestizos, 67 ff., 102 ff.

politics, 65-66, 72, 75

social change, proposals for, 75,
97-107

social structure, 65-66, 67-70
change, 70-75

U.S. aid, 106-07
Petroleum

Bolivia, 136-37, 167

Mexico, 303-04, 309, 310

Venezuela, 50
PIR, 121

Political instability, 14, 42-43
Population, 47-48

Brazil, 189-92

Guatemala, 259, 260

Mexico, 287-89, 312
POR, 118, 133
Prestes, Luis Carlos, 213
PRI, 326
Protestantism, 53
PSD, 134
Public health, 46

Quadros, Janio, 214, 223

Racial integration, 3, 18-21, 22; see
also Indians, integration

352

Social Change in Latin America Today

RADEPA, 124

Raz6n de Patria (Bolivia); see RA-

* DEPA
Research Institute for Latin Amer-
ica (proposed), 58-59
Revolutions, 14, 108
Rockefeller Foundation, 265
Rojas, Jose\ 121, 122, 126, 129, 136
Ruiz Cortines, Adolfo, 302, 322, 323,

326, 332
Rural proletariat, 22, 49, 52, 282
Brazil, 214-17, 228
Guatemala, 250-52, 280
Mexico, 338

Sanchez Reulet, Anibal, quoted, 41
Schurz, William Lytle, quoted, 43-

44
Siles, Hernan, 118, 124, 125, 131 ff.,

159^ »75
Smith, T. Lynn, quoted, 187, 191,

216
Social anthropology and foreign re-
lations, 1-3, 5-6
Social change, 46
and politics, 1 ff., 14-18, 47, 54-57,

266-67
proposals for inducement, 97-107
and technology, 52, 98, 263-66
and U.S. policy, 1-3, 4, 14-18, 272-
83; see also U.S. policy, U.S.
aid, recommendations
Social Democratic party (Bolivia);

see PSD
Social structure, 21-28, 34-38, 48-50
Brazil, 178-88, 208, 209-30
Bolivia, 138-42
Guatemala, 238 ff., 246-47, 257-67,

270-73
Mexico, 285-86, 321-29, 334-40
Peru, 65-66, 67-75
Stabilization

Bolivia, 132 ff., 159-60, 170-71, 174,

176
Brazil, 198-99

Tavora, Juarez, 222
Technological change, 52

and social development, 98, 263-66
Tin

Bolivia, 129-30, 134, 155-57, l67>
175

Russian sales, 134, 155
Torres, Mario, 133
Torres Rioseco, Arturo, quoted, 41
Transportation

Bolivia, 168

Brazil, 179-80, 192-93

Guatemala, 260

Mexico, 301, 303, 310-11, 343

Peru, 72-73, 104-05
Tribal unification, 3
Trotskyite Revolutionary Workers

party (Bolivia); see POR
Tschopik, Harry, 112

Ubico, Jorge, 16, 232-35, 260, 267
Unamuno, Miguel de, quoted, 45
Uniao Democratica Nacional (Bra-
zil), 207, 226
United Fruit Company, 50, 272
United Nations aid, 49, 97, 100, 109,

167, 265
United States
attitude toward, 4, 5, 8-9, 18, 38,
43- 44> 57-58, 60-62, 168-70,
276, 279-80, 281-82
Brazil, 222

Guatemala, 243, 268, 280
Mexico, 294, 306-09, 343-44
U.S. aid, 49

Bolivia, 109-10, 130-31, 133, 137,

151-57
evaluation, 157-68, 170-76
Guatemala, 234, 235, 265, 266-67
evaluation, 235-36, 237, 272 ff.
Mexico, 330
Peru, 106-07

recommendations, 13, 32, 59-60,
61, 98, 106-07
U.S. policy, 1, 4, 5, 6-13, 16-18, 232,
281
Bolivia, 109-10, 117, 170, 174-76

evaluation, 11-12
Brazil, 178-79

recommendations, 227-30
Caribbean, 232, 279
Guatemala, 233, 234, 236, 273-83
recommendations, 12, 16-18,
237-38' 272 ff.

Index

353

recommendations, 12, 13, 15-18,
57-64, 168-70, 272-84
U.S. relations
Mexico, 286, 291, 293-99, 3°3-°9>
343-44
recommendations, 344-45
U.S.S.R., 234, 267, 268
Bolivian loan, 136-37
tin sales, 134, 155
Universities, role of, 115-16
Bolivia, 116, 125, 139, 141
Unzaga de la Vega, Oscar, 134
Upper class, 22-23, 54' see a^so
Business, Landed aristocracy
Bolivia, 109, 111, 139-40
Brazil, 180-82, 183 ff., 209, 223-27,

229
Guatemala, 240-41, 243-47, 264>

268
Mexico, 321-26, 334-35» 342
Urbanization, 3-4, 48
Brazil, 12, 189-90
Mexico, 287-89, 328
Urban proletariat, 22, 49, 282

Argentina, 212

Brazil, 210-14, 228

Guatemala, 252-53, 280

Mexico, 338
Urriolagoitia, Mamerto, 117, 118
Uruguay, 18-19, 25» 56

Vargas, Getulio, 177, 188, 206, 212-

13, 222, 226
Venezuela, 25, 50, 56, 99, 281
Vera Tapia, German, 126
Verrissimo, Erico, 206
Viana Moog, Clodomir, 181, 206
Vicos community, 11, 78-97, 173
Villarroel, Gualberto, 116-17

"Welfare state" services, 37-38, 40,

55. 61
Whetten, Nathan L., 318, 326
Women, 33-34, 49*5°' 221
World Health Organization, 237

Ydigoras Fuentes, Miguel, 235

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SOCIAL CHANGE
IN LATIN AMERICA

TODAY

The countries of Latin
America are caught up
today in a complex process
of social change, and these
changes pose many new
problems to U. S. policy-
making. Traditional ruling
classes have been losing ground,
and new social groups are growing
in numbers and political strength.

What lies behind the rise and fall
of "strong men" in Latin American
politics? To what extent is social
change preparing the way for a wider
sharing of economic and cultural
opportunities, and for an orderly
participation of broader segments of the
people in the management of their
governments? In what ways do the drastic
social changes in Latin America affect
U. S. policy? The six essays collected here
provide some new and penetrating answers
to these and other extremely important
questions.

Under the auspices of the Council on
Foreign Relations, six leading students of
Latin American society, each with many years
of first-hand experience in the area, have
analyzed the forces that are re-shaping the
societies of Latin America and have highlighted
their meaning for American policy. The authors
are: John P. Gillin, University of Pittsburgh;
Allan R. Holmberg, Cornell University; Richard
W. Patch, American University Field Staff;
Charles Wagley, Columbia University; Richard
N. Adams, Michigan State University; and Oscar
Lewis, University of Illinois. The collection is
engagingly introduced by the late noted
educator, Lyman Bryson.

ITS

IMPLICATIONS

FOR

UNITED

STATES

POLICY

A VINTAGE BOOK

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