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Published quarterly at 180 Hostos, B-507, Hato Rey, Puerto Rico, 00918


Winter, 1969


Vol. 1, No. 4


Peruvian child, by Marvin W. Schwartz
/


Editorial

In this fourth issue of Caribbean Review we are pleased to
announce the receipt of a grant from the Plumsock Fund, a small
American family foundation. Past beneficiaries include the island of
Anguilla, which in 1968 was given a modern, self-contained mobile
clinic, the only medical-dental facility in that tiny erstwhile republic.
The size of the grant is modest by some criteria, but like Anguilla the
Caribbean Review is a mini-venture (in resources, but not in scope and
ambition)and the Plumsock Fund's generous gift has been
monumentally important to its future.
As in the past, Caribbean Review continues to search about the
West Indies and Latin America for arresting topics contained in recent
books. The table of contents offers the complete fare, but we shall
mention a handful of the highlights:
There is a multiple focus on Puerto Rico, with reviews of five
recent books about the island, plus a translation of Ren6 Marques, short
story "Three Men by the River."
Cuba is also represented with Elizabeth Sutherland's "personal
report" on "the youngest revolution," plus a review, by an exiled
Cuban scholar, of a book written by an American observer, plus Robert
Friedman's choice comments on the film Chg.
Perhaps the brightest "gem" in this isshe is an excerpt from
"Living Poor," by Mortiz Thomsen, a 48 year -old American pig
farmer, who joined the Peace Corps and lives in a poverty-ridden coastal


village of Ecuador. Our greatest apprehension is that the excerpt will do
less than justice to the book, which we strongly urge you to read, not
only for the insights it contains on "living poor," but for the sheer
pleasure of its literary quality. It is, simultaneously, one of the saddest
and funniest books we recall hating read. 0



Contents
CULTURAL TAG, by Barry Levine..........................................2
LEFT, CENTER, RIGHT, by Norman Matlin............................3
A PURITAN IN BABYLON, by Gordon K. Lewis....................3
LATIN AMERICAN DEVELOPMENT, by Galo Plaza..............5
LANDSCAPE 2, poem by Mario de Andrade, translated
by Jack E. Tomlins................................. ...................5
WEST INDIAN DIALOGUE, by Harmannus Hoetink............6
THREE MEN BY THE RIVER, short story by Ren6
Marques, translated by Kal Wagenheim.............................7
LIVING POOR, by Moritz Thomsen....................................... 8
YOUNG CUBA, by Elizabeth Sutherland.............................9
JOHN WAYNE ON CUBA, by Andr6s Suirez......................... 1
CHE. HMM., by Robert Friedman......................................... 1
CARIBBEAN INFERNO, by Susan Sheinman........................ 12
I SEEK A FORM, poem by Rub6n Dario, translated
by Lysander Kemp ................................................. 12
STREET REFORM, by Celia F. de Cintr6n............................13
RECENT BOOKS...................................................................14






CArtBBcAN rEVIw


Winter, 1969


Contributors

NORMAN MATLIN's
sociological treatise The
Educational Enclave was just
published by Funk & Wagnall's. He
co-directs the Instituto Psicol6gico
de Puerto Rico ... GORDON K.
LEWIS, with the U. of Puerto Rico
faculty, is author of The Growth of
the Modern West Indies, which is
reviewed in this issue . .
HARMANNUS HOETINK, director
of the Institute of Caribbean
Studies, U. of Puerto Rico, has
recently published The 2 Variants
in'Caribbean Race Relations ...
RENE MARQUES is the Puerto
Rican playwright, novelist and
essayist. His story will appear in a
forthcoming anthology of Puerto
Rican fiction, translated to English,
published by the Institute of Puerto
Rican Culture .. MORITZ
THOMSEN is a former pig farmer
and Peace Corps volunteer whose
book (U. Washington Press) is
excerpted here ... ELIZABETH
SUTHERLAND is a writer and
editor with the Black and
Spanish-American liberation
movements; her contribution is
excerpted from her recent book
(Dial Piess) . ANDRES
SUAREZ, author of the book
Cuba: Castroism and Communism,
is with the Center for Latin
American Studies, U. of Florida ...
ROBERT FRIEDMAN is
entertainment editor of the San
Juan Star newspaper ... GALO
PLAZA. of Ecuador, is Secretary
General of the Organization of
American States; his remarks are
excerpted from a recent speech...
CELIA F. DE CINTRON, professor
of psychology at U. of Puerto
Rico's School of Social Sciences,
has conducted government studies
on juvenile delinquency and drug
addiction ... SUSAN SHEINMAN,
formerly an editor on the
International Encyclopedia of
Philosophy, and on the new'
Crowell Collier dictionary, now
teaches in San Juan.


Our Sponsors
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Caribbean Review (while accepting ads),
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ges. The following people or institutions
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CAIBBCAN REVIEW
Winter, 1969 Vol. 1, No. 4
Editors:
Kal Wagenheim,
Barry Bernard Levine

Caribbean Review, a books-oriented
quarterly journal, is published by
Caribbean Review, Inc., a non-profit
corporation. Mailing address: 180
Hosts, B-507, Hato Rey, Puerto Rico,
00918. Available by subscription only:.1
year, $3; 2 years, $5.50; 3 years, $7.50;
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envelope.


THE MODERNIZATION OF
PUERTO RICO: A POLITICAL STUDY
OF CHANGING VALUES AND
INSTITUTIONS. Henry Wells. 440 pp.
Harvard U. Press, 1969. $9.95.

Basically, this book is an attempt to
explain why Puerto Rico today is so
different from Puerto Rico of 1940 and
before.
The minutely detailed descriptive
material is competently researched by
author Henry Wells. However, the
interpretation offered to explain the
modernization of the island is forced,
awkward, and inadequate. It is there that
Wells runs dry.
-Until 1940, Puerto Rico was a
''stagnant, poverty-stricken,
disease-ridden agricultural society,
predominantly traditional in culture."
Since then industry has boomed,
income has multiplied, school attendance
has risen, life expectancy has climbed,
and the mortality rate has gone down.
Material possessions, mass media,
voluntary associations, and bureaucrats
are now everywhere to be found.
Wells is not content with merely
describing what has happened; he wants
to explain why. And for this he interprets
the modernization of the island in terms
Sof values.
According to the author, the modern
American (i.e., the American since the
nineteenth century) is one who values
welfare (i.e., well-being, wealth, skill,
enlightenment) and egalitarianism. The
traditional Puerto Rican is one who
values dignity more than welfare and is
either authoritarian or docile.
Thus, for Wells, whereas the
traditional person values power in a
caudillo, favors meaningful personal
relations, and likes machismo, the
modern person values power in a
bureaucracy, favors deals, and prefers
skilled and careful planning ahead.
Consequently, while traditional
Puerto Rican philosophy is deeply
fatalistic, personalistic, and humanistic,
modern American philosophy is
optimistic, self-confident,
efficiency-oriented, and group-minded.
It is on the basis of these images that
he hopes to explain things.
Wells claims that during the
nineteenth century, Puerto Rican values
Were typical of traditional Spanish
culture.
The Anerican take-over of the island,
he writes, brought about certain "value
changes among the economically and
socially deprived sectors of the
population" which, in turn, enabled a
"small pro-modernization segment of the
political elite (i.e., the Populares) to come
to power in the general election of 1940.
Luis Mufioz Marin, a peculiar product
of U.S. and Puerto Rican cultures,
heading the Popular government,
commenced to make Puerto Rico
modern. His successes in economic,
social, and administrative reforms, Wells
continues, were due to his commitment
to modern American welfare ends and
traditional Puerto Rican means. The areas
that were not modernized were those that
escaped the boss's attention.. Even the
island's political stability, according to
the author, has been due to Mufioz's
unusual combination of Puerto Rican and
American values.
Wells attributes the in-between
society to the in-between man: Puerto
Rico in the process of modernization to
Mufioz. Half-Americanized Mufioz is


by Barry Levine _.
committed to American -style welfare,
but not American- style egalitarian
means for achieving it. He similarly
asserts that though there is much talk on
the island of democratic ideology, neither
the elite (authoritarian Mufioz and
company), nor the populace (the docile
Puerto Ricans) act on democratic
egalitarian terms.
Wells invests a lot of energy discussing
what he refers to as political socialization,
the biographical process by which people
are assigned those politically-relevant
values in which they' are supposed to
believe.
For Wells, this process, which we can
call "cultural tag," starts early. For
example, in traditional Puerto Rican


Cultural Tag


lilustation by Gabriel Gahona(ca. 1850) from 'The Caste War of Yucatan,'
by Nelson Reed, Stanford U. paperback, 1967.


society, childhood training, family,
school, and church indoctrinate the
actors so that they internalize the values
assigned. Hacienda economics and boss
politics reinforce this training.
Traditional Puerto Ricans thus rightly
learned to believe "such attitudes as
acceptance of hierarchy and respect for
higher authority." Their characteristic
obedience dependence, and docility are
thus seen by the author to be the result
of their education.
At least he-didn't trace the
characteristics back to their toilet
training, as others might have done.
In the case of Mufioz, who lived in
New York for a considerable amount of
time, and in the case of present day
Puerto Ricans, who live amidst traditional
and modern, institutions, socialization is
inconsistent and.the actors internalize
inconsistent values, part -modern, part
old-fashioned.
However, nothing in the analysis of
Puerto Rican or American values explains
why Mufioz,-for example, would take the
particular combination of values that-he
did. Those that he adopted may have
worked for the modernization of Puerto
Rico, but why was it those that
emerged?
Although the author prefers to talk
on the antiseptic level of values, his
concepts prove so insufficient that he has
to pad them himself. Consequently, he
often finds himself tacitly acknowledging
power as a mechanism that transforms
society.
He will find himself acknowledging,
for example, that at one point legislative
leader Ernesto Ramos Antonini went
against his own values for he "had too
much at stake to defy Mufioz and risk
suffering ... defeat."
Or when referring to the Americans
after the take-over of the island, he
notes: "by virtue of their conquest and


the status quo as complaints about
dignity, and American acts as moves to
realize welfare and egalitarian goals.
Thus, expressions of
pro-Independence support are for Wells
essentially expressions of indignance
about the demeaning nature of colony
status, rather than concern for the
realization of welfare values.
Even the 1930 rumblings by the then
pro-Independence Mufioz against
absentee ownership, over-dependence of
the economy on sugar exports, the high
costs of shipping and imports, etc., are
thought by the author to be
understandable only in conjunction with
accompanying expressions of political
.frustration and resentment.-
Similarly, acts by Americans are the
natural results of their values according to
the author. Thus, for example, he
interprets the egalitarian reforms initiated
by the Americans after they took over
the island in 1898 as an example of their
doing what comes naturally.
Everything was egalitarian, of course,
except the invasion!
And when Puerto Ricans complain
about lack of welfare, or take steps to
achieve it, he concludes that, like Muiioz,
it's because they've been Americanized.
Wells is correct to indicate that the
modernization of the island has
proceeded hand in hand with the
Americanization of the island.
However, by emphasizing values,
without correspondingly emphasizing
power, Wells has closed his eyes to much
of what is going on here. For it is not
simply that Puerto Ricans have learned to
appreciate welfare as a value because it is
American, but that they have accepted
anything American,, thinking it is welfare.
Action, here as elsewhere, is always
just as much a result of marketing as of
taste. .


I


their political and economic power they
were in a position to determine events

In other words, their ability to
determine events was not because of their
values but because of the resources they
had on hand. And those who obeyed did
not do so simply because of their values
(i.e., respect for authority) but often
enough in spite of their values (i.e., in
response to the American control over
political and economic resources).
In spite of these and other
interpretations of incidents on the basis
of a power model there is no theoretical
discussion of power in the book. The
only model that Wells discusses is one
based on values. In terms of his theory,
power is treated simply as a value, and
not also as an active agent of both social
control and social change.
Another consequence of his
commitment to value analysis is that he is
forced to wheel and deal with his
interpretations of actual value
preferences.
Wells never misses a chance to
interpret Puerto Rican complaints about







Winter, 1969 CABBEAN REVIEW


Left, Center, Right


PUERTO RICO: UNA
INTERPRETATION
HISTORICO-SOCIAL. Manuel
Maldonado Denis. 255 pp. Siglo XXI
Editores, Mexico, 1969. $3.00.

In the introduction, the author
describes this book as an essay which
considers the struggle between the forces
of colonialism and independence as the
central axis of historical analysis. This is a
reasonable description, if rather modest.
Although such an analysis is, perhaps,
most likely to have occurred to an
independentista, even the most partial of
analysts must consider the political status
issue a central, if not the central, issue of
Puerto Rican history.
Maldonado Denis says further that he
expects to be accused of partiality and
lack of objectivity. He replies that no
historian is really impartial. Such a
corollary follows the Bellman's logic of
substituting "a perfect and absolute
blank" for the map because "...
Mercator's North Poles and Equators are
merely conventional signs." The point is
not that Maldonado Denis does not
succeed in being objective but that he
does not bother to try. This makes the
book an excellent source document on
how Maldonado Denis thinks, but a
dubious guide to Puerto Rican history.
Every series of theoretical constructs
must necessarily be a simplification. An
explanation which is as complex as the
event it purports to describe is of no
utility at all. The book runs no great risk
of such a failing. On the contrary, he
maps all three political dimensions onto
one single dimension. For Maldonado
Denis, it is sufficient to know whether a
person is conservative-assimilationist,
liberal-autonomist, or radical-separatist
to predict his response to any political
question, not to mention his moral state
and his bank balance. While every man is
free to adopt his own theoretical schema,
every theory exacts its own price by its
selective inattention to data which do not
fit in. Where a theory is as simplified as
Maldonado Denis'; the possibilities it
excludes may well outweigh the
alternatives it permits.
Since the Industrial Revolution, every
national group has adopted as a major
axis of its politics a dimension based on
the ends to be postulated for the
economic system. This dimension has
been conventionally divided into the right
and the left, with capitalists put on the
right, welfare-statists in the middle, and
socialists and communists on the left.
While there is some relationship between
people's position in the economic system
and their opinions as to how the system
should be organized, only the most naive
Marxist would assume a one-to-one
relationship. The leadership of socialist
and communist parties is regularly
recruited from the intelligentsia rather
than from the workers. The poorest
stratum of workers is ordinarily quite
conservative. Calling them
lumpenproletariat does not obviate the
difficulty. Even Marx was sufficiently
un-Marxist to talk about, false
consciousness. The dimension involved is
based on a person's opinion as to what
the ends of the economic system should
be. His opinion may be totally
independent of the personal advantage he
might derive under one or another
system.
For independent nations, under
relatively isolated conditions, the
economic dimension may furnish the
only area of disagreement on the political


,by Norman Matlin .-
scene. Ethnic and minority groups
regularly develop another political axis: a
dimension based on opinion as to what
the relationship between the minority
group and the majority should be. There
will be advocates of every position: from
complete assimilation, through some
form of joint territoriality, to complete
separation. While it may be convenient to
label these the ethnic right, center, and'
left, respectively, their relationship to the
economic right, center, and left is purely
accidental. Separatists are as likely to be


ionalism, and Politics in Argentina,' by
Samuel L. Baily, Rutgers U. Press.
conservatives as liberals or radicals. Both
Zionist Revisionists and Black Muslims
have been noted for their extremely
conservative positions. Since more than
one axis of politics makes organization
extremely complex, groups whose major
interest is their position on one of the
axes will frequently form alliances with
groups with a major interest on the other.
Normally these are marriages of
convenience. A recognition, however, of
the theoretical independence of the two
axes allows us to understand for example
the possibilities of labor leader Santiago
Iglesias' being both a socialist and an
assimilationist. Nor are we forced, as
Maldonado Denis is, to ignore the
influence of the- small but important
group of conservative independentistaS.
While the dominant trend in Puerto Rican
history has probably been for the
economic left to line up with the ethnic.
left, there is, in fact, no logical base for
such an alliance. It would be extremely
rash to predict that the axes will be lined
up in the same fashion twenty-five years
hence.
Both of the dimensions we have


A


in


POET IN THE FORTRE
STORY OF LUIS MUNOZ
Thomas Aitken. New America
1964.
UN HOMBRE ACORRALA
LA HISTORIC. Cesar Andre
Editorial Claridad, San Juan, 19
(The following review first
in the October, 1964, San Jua
With two other articles on con
Puerto Rico in this issue-the
Henry Wells' and Manuel U
Denis' books, we thought it wi
interest to our readers to cc
them with this view of the Mu
The Editors.)

If a cat may look at a
perhaps permissible for a pr
political science to look at the
of Puerto Rico, especially as
abdication of the office invites
an appraisal of the man and
Two recently published bo
Andreu Iglesias' Un Hombre A
por la Historia and Thomas Ait
in the Fortress: The Story of L
Marin-are, one supposes, the f
of what is likely to become a v
literature on the subject. The fi
a frank critique by a Pue
independentista novelist and
bitingly satirical, laughingly
but at the same time avoiding tl
personal hatred which anin
contrast, the extremist
caricature of Pablo Neruda's
Puerto Rico. For, as Andreu hi
Mufioz has been in himself a q
century of Puerto Rican histo
for good or ill, the key'man of


Puritan


Babylon
by Gordon K. Lewis
ISS: THE The Aitken volume, quite differently,
MARIN. is a confessedly adulatory book, written
n Library, in a style of breathless enthusiasm more
appropriate to a woman's magazine or a
ADO POR sales campaign: it is perhaps no
u Iglesias. coincidence that its author is a public
?64. relations executive in the crystal palace of
t appeared modern American finance capitalism. If
in Review. don Luis were running again in 1964 for
temporary La Fortaleza this would be his campaign
reviews of biography, the chief purpose of which
Maldonado genre of literature being to persuade the
would be of electorate that the subject of the book is
implement a paragon of all the democratic virtues. In
hioz era the Aitken book Governor Mufioz runs
-sacred, in Andreu's volume he runs
scared. No one should make the mistake
king it is. of reading the first title without reading
ofessor of the second.
Governor If, like Pilate before Christ, we seek
his recent to discover the character of this curious
i, in 1964, man, it is worth noting that we know so
his work. little about him. He is the lider micxinto
oks-C6sar of the Mexican-style Popular Party, the
Acorralado strong man of the modern Puerto Rican
:ken'sPoet transformation. Yet he has managed to
uis Mufoz insulate himself to a surprising degree
orerunners against press and public. He has had to
oluminous endure little of the ruthless invasion of
rst book is private life so much a feature of
rto Rican continental American politics. We all
journalist, know, as Mr. Aitken reminds us
irreverent, ceaselessly, of the quick humor, the
hie spirit of essential humanism, the passionate
mates, by concern for the common man, the sure
Nationalist grasp of both the American and Puerto
s Canta a Rican political folkways. Yet beyond that
mselfsays, we know little. The Governor is,
quarter of a popularly, the Bard, el Vate. But his
Dry and is, output of verse is surprisingly minuscule,
Sthe times. and he cannot be compared, in that field,


-. j ...,
a sow i suesmvnr



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discussed are based on the ends to be
served by political decisions. Even people
who agree on ends, however, often
disagree about the most appropriate
means for achieving those ends. The
political dimension in regard to means in
less formally developed. Perhaps the best
label 'available is violent-non-violent.
While revolutionaries are usually
committed to violence, violence is by no
means limited to revolutionaries. If
defenders of the status quo are ordinarily
less tempted to violence to achieve their
ends, a glance at recent headlines in
Puerto Rico should be sufficient to
demonstrate that they are by no means
automatically committed to non-violent
means. Maldonado Denis may prefer to
label activity repression, but the rocks
themselves show a splendid impartiality
to who throws them.
Here again, Maldonado Denis'
attempt to fold all three political


dimensions into one causes him to pay
less than justice to the groups that fail to
meet the criteria. How can he explain
why Toiio Gonzalez (leader of the new
Puerto Rico Union Party), who is an
economic leftist and an ethnic
independentista, is opposed to violence?
For that matter the book's treatment of
the late independence leader Gilberto
Concepci6n de Gracia shows a similar
difficulty; he is too important to ignore,
but -too hard to explain. One would
scarcely guess from reading the book that
the majority of independentistas are
non-violent.
While the basic assumptions of Puerto
Rico: una interpretaci6n hist6rico-social
do not allow it to do justice to important
parts of Puerto Rican history or current
events, they do sharpen Maldonado's eye
for many aspects usually ignored in other
histories. For all-its faults, it is a book
which well repays its reading. 0







CAmBBEAN rEVIE


Winter, 1969


with, say, the French-Antillean poet
deputy Aime Cesaire. There is the early
political journalism in the New York
liberal magazines. But articles are not
books, and Muiioz is not the author that
is Dr. Eric Williams elsewhere in the
Carribbean. His recent remark, indeed, to
the effect that someone ought to write
the history of the Puerto Rican people
after the manner of Michener's book on
Hawaii suggests at once that he may not
possess the exacting intellectual standard
of Dr. Williams and that his cast of mind
is more literary-philosophical than
social-scientific.
We do not even know what sort of
book the Governor reads, so that while
Harold MacMillan's passion- for Trollope
and the late President Kennedy's liking
for Ian Fleming tell us much about those
men for Mufioz we have no such clue. It
is said, again, that he is a great
conversationalist. But if that is so his
Boswell is yet to appear,.for all of the
Governor's idolators repeat in their books
the same dreary collection of hackneyed
"human interest" stories, and Mr. Aitken
adds very little fresh material. It is true
that throughout his political career he has
denied to any really serious biographer
the cooperation necessary for writing a
deep study, for he is essentially a shy
temperament that shuns publicity and
dislikes self-advertising. Yet it is true at
the same time that the whole ambiente of
Puerto Rican life, the docility of the
Puerto Rican character or perhaps even
the endemic colonial mentality have
prevented any colleague or former ally of
the Popular leader from writing
biographically about him. We might have
expected a critical study, for instance.
from Geigel Polanco, or expected Samuel
Quifiones or Antonio Colorado to play, as
it were, their Tugwell to his Roosevelt.
But such has not been the case, and we
are the worse off for it. And the
Governor's American liberal admirers
have made things even worse by their
tendency-almost as if they were
assuaging their own liberal
consciences-to write about him as if he
were the Caribbean version of Albert
Schweirzer.
A study of Mufioz, then, is a study of
his public figure, not his private self. The
literature, at that level, like the Aitken
volume, accepts the Popular post-1940
record at its own face value and Governor
Mufioz on his own self-congratulatory
terms. There is the same "man of the
people"' romanticism, the same
Rousseauistic idealization of the jibaro,
the .same quasi-psychological nonsense
about Muiioz as the father-figure, the
Freudian Moses, leading his people out of
the collective anxieties of colonialism
into the new freedom of the estado libre
asociado. Yet, as Andreu sees, there is a
darker side of the moon, True, the great
Popular campaigns after 1938 reveal
Mufioz as the incorruptible leader
possessing the capacity to evoke in his
followers a massive loyalty and an
affectionate adulation that no reverses
could diminish or hostile force pollute.
At the same time, the socio-economic
*changes unleashed by Mufioz have had
the effect', among much else, of
converting the Puerto Rican country
people into rootless urban and suburban
nomads, and the Governor may discover
that his return to the batey really means a
confrontation with the huge American
cars, the TV sets, the imported Bermuda
grass, the US-style teenager culture and,
in general, the widespread status panic of
the Puerto Rican nouveaux riches. He is,
more and more, a Puritan in Babylon. He
likes to dream of American capitalism as
a non-sacred cow to be rationally utilized
by rational Puerto Ricans. He fails to see
that, in grim reality, it is a raucous tiger
not easily tamed.
The great purpose of Muiioz, Mr.
Aitken assures the reader, has been to
induce his people to work out its own
problems. The independentista answer is


to assert, unequivocally, that it is
Muftoz's own betrayal of national
independence that has made such
self-confidence .difficult, if not
impossible. For so long as Puerto Ricans
remain under the umbrella, both in
economic and military terms, of the
United States so long will they find it
easier to fall back on American
protection than to look to themselves.
The politics of Mufioz, in that sense, in
Andreu's phase, has been a politics of
sublimation; it has subtly undermined
any national public policy designed, in
the statement of the Guinea Democratic
Party, to convert colonial habits into
national habits. The Governor endlessly
lectures his foes about carrying their
problems to Washington rather than,
solving them in San Juan; but the truth is
that the island economy is so coercively
tied to the superordinate continental
economy that no really independent
public policy is possible. Colonialist fear
still governs Puerto Rican communal
attitudes. Even the Governor's friends see
this; it is, after all, the Director of the.
Institute of Puerto Rican Culture and not
an evilly-minded English expatriate like
myself who has said that it has been an


old Puerto Rican tactic to maintain the
status quo by frightening the Puerto
Rican people with imaginary dangers:
Drake in the 16th century, the Dutch
marauders in the 17th, the liberalism of
the young American republic in the 19th
century and Communism in the present
day; and today it is a Popular-cultivated
myth that independence would mean
economic ruin and political chaos. One of
the most hilarious of the chapters of
Andreu's volume is about this, describing
an imaginary conversation in limbo
between Mufioz and Sir Alexander
Bustamante, first Premier of independent
Jamaica, in which that aged West Indian
conservative instructs Mufioz on the
inevitability of nationalism.
It is because of all this that there is
such a deceptive air about modern Puerto
Rican "progress." The supreme tragedy
of Mufioz is that, setting out to solve the
Puerto Rican problems, he has really
solved none. Status remains unresolved.
Mr. Aitken proudly relates the
contribution of dofa Ihis after 1937 as a
defender of the Spanish language in the
island schools; but he fails to add that, in
1964, the language "problem" still
remains a political issue. He also retells
the story of the contribution of Ernesto
Ramos Antonini to the early Popular
cause; but he fails to note the significant
fact that, before his death, Ramos had
become the spokesman of "native"
industry against the economic
penetration of American corporate
business. And despite all the solemn talk
about cultural identity Puerto Rico is still
today a formless society, caught, in
Sarmiento's famous phrase about 19th


century Latin America between European
civilization and American barbarism.
All this is not to say that Muffoz is
the "lost leader," betraying ideals for the
sake of the ribbon to stick in his coat. It
would be stupid anti-Americanism to
dismiss him as the "lackey of the
imperialists." He is too complex for that.
He is the marginal man, reflecting the
marginal Borinquen society. Mr. Churchill
once described himself as all English and
half American. Mufioz is all Puerto Rican
and half American. So, just as in Mr.
Churchill's case that marginality leads
him to see the United States as merely a
transatlantic offshoot of English Whig
society, so in the case of Mufioz it leads
the Puerto Rican to see it, equally
mistakenly, as a Whitmanesque
liberal-radical society. On the contrary,
'contemporary America is a monolithic
state-capitalism, not so much the
embodiment, as Mufioz likes to believe,
of the democratic dogma as the
degradation of the democratic dogma.
That is why there is'such a profound
gulf separating what Mufioz habitually
expects from- the United States and what
in fact he obtains, as, most graphically,
his continuing failure to get Congressional


approbation of his scheme of "perfected"
Commonwealth shows. That is why, too,
there is such a great divide between the
Governor's dreams and his achievements,
between Operation Serenity and
Operation Bootstrap. He dreams of using
American capitalism to succour a new
Puerto Rican civilization. The realities are
more prosaic: a new Puerto Rican
capitalism, even more philistine than the
American, has transformed the old island
society into the modern nightmare we all
know. In that sense the Governor's now
famous legislative speech on "The
Purpose of Puerto Rico" is, in truth, a
damning indictment of Operation
Bootstrap and the way of life it has
spawned.
What fascinates about all this is not
the detail of the Puerto Rican tragedy but
the way in which Mufioz responds to it.
For he is Hamlet; he loves to play the
dual role. He is too Puerto Rican to deny
the tragedy; he is too American to follow
the only path-of socialism and
independence-which could put an end
to it. He is a Puerto Rican statesman; but
he seeks to play the role of a public
official of the imperial metropolis rather
than that of a patriot creole leader,
seeking less to forge a new nation than to
find solutions to problems that are
mainly American rather than Puerto
Rican. He is a humanist and, as such,
exaggerates the power of reason in human
affairs and underestimates the brute force
of interest and power. He loves
persuasion and hates force. So he tends
not to see that there are times when only
force can extract justice from history. It
is in that sense that there is some truth in


the gibe that it is the Mayor of Vieques,
not the Governor, who acts like the
leader of an embattled people.
That confusion of purpose has
produced-his most notorious
characteristic -a confusion of language.
He speaks endlessly about "creative"
political-constitutional forms, and he
creates his own definitions to suit them.
So, a term like "sovereignty," in his
hands, becomes merely a political form, a
machinery of government, and not, as it
really is, the residence of brute power in
any societal arrangements; and in that
way he manages to persuade himself that
the denial of any sovereign power to
Puerto Ricans is a relatively unimportant
matter. Few pages of Andreu's collected
articles are so refreshing as his exposure
of this mufiocista mode of jesuitical
pedantry. For to understand Muiioz one
needs, not a dictionary, but an
interpreter. He composes his own lexicon.
He is, above all, an orator and, like all
orators, tends to mistake oratory for
thought. Like all orators, again-the late-
Nye Bevan in British Labour politics, for
example-he becomes an easy victim of
his own verbal brilliancy. He leaves lesser
men, or more logical men, behind him.
He suffers from poetic license; he is,
indeed, the poet in the fortress in a tragic
way Mr. Aitken fails to perceive. It is for
that reason that in his later years he has
engaged not so much in a meaningful
public debate as in a private monologue
with himself.
"A constitutional statesman," wrote
Walter Bagehot in his essay on The
Character of Sir Robert Peel, "is in
general a man of common opinions and
uncommon abilities." The phrase aptly
describes Mufioz. In his gifts he is a
ministry of all the talents. But it would
-be a brave man (Mr. Aitken, perhaps,
excepted) who would claim great
intellectual originality) for the Governor.
He has been associated wit'. certain
leading concepts. But, on exuinatior..
they turn out not to be startling or
profound. His concept of creative
federalism" goes back to a famous essay
by Proudhon and, in its institutional garb,
to the practice-of Dominion Status in the
SBritish Commonwealth before the Statute
of Westminster of 1931. He is a critic of
nationalism; but so are most people. He
prides himself on being the pragmatic
liberal. But it is doubtful whether he is
aware of the dangers of pragmatism and
of how easily the philosophy of being
what people call a "practical man" can
often lead to a dictatorship of the facts,
ar opportunist acceptance of the status
quo: which, in fact, has for years beer
the major disease of Puerto Rican
politics. Mr. Aitken reminds us, too, of
the influence of British Fabian Socialist
ideas upon the younger Mufioz through
his friendship with the Puerto Rican
writer Nemesio Canales. But it is evident
from the passage that Mr. Aitken does
not understand Fabian Socialism, and it is
possible that Mufioz has never really
mastered either the theory or the practice
of socialismin any satisfactory sense. The
Governor's leading idea, finally, is that of
the need of the "good life" in modern
civilization. But it is always couched in
vague moralistic terms; he does not tell us
how to obtain it; he cites no strategically
located social class in modern Puerto
Rican life capable of defending the ideal
against the materialist culture of
capitalism; and, altogether it is less a
policy than a pious exhortation.
So long as it remains thus, the Puerto
Rican people, after 24 years of Popular
rule, may well feel that they have been
brought up out of the land of Egypt in
order to perish in the wilderness. No one
who respects don Luis as a person would
wish that judgement upon him. But it
may well be the final judgment brought
by hiniself upon his own shoulders
because of his fatal genius for tactical
opportunism and ideological imprecision.
O


From the dusrjacket of 'Bomarzo.' by Manuel Mujica-Lamez. Simon & Schuster. 1969.







Winter, 1969


CABBEAN EVIEW


The basic problem in the world today
is that the developing countries are
developing too slowly. Their progress is
dwarfed by that of the developed
countries, where per capital income is
increasing ten times as fast...
In both the United States and Latin
America there is a feeling that there must
be some changes made. The Good
Neighbor Policy was all right for the
thirties, and the Alliance for Progress has
been a step forward in the sixties, but in
the seventies we need something more.
We need a stronger partnership for
development, with reciprocal benefits and
reciprocal obligations...
The support of informed public
opinion throughout the Americas is
indispensable for the success of any
policy of increased inter-American
cooperation. There are some basic
misunderstandings to be overcome...
Even among those who are more
familiar with Latin America by study,
travel, or professional contact there is a
great deal of misunderstanding. One of
the most common tendencies is the
underestimation of the magnitude of the
Latin America self-help effort. It is not
generally known that of the estimated
$130 billion invested in Latin American
development in the sixties, a little over
$120 billion is reckoned to have come
from Latin America itself. Although.the
proportion of external aid was less than
the 20 percent envisaged under the
Alliance for Progress. it did play an
important role in human and material
betterment in Latin America.
There is also a very imperfect
understanding in the United States of the
nature and extent of that country's
participation in Latin American
development.
It is not generally known that only a
fraction of a penny of each taxpayer's
dollar goes for economic cooperation
with Latin America- cooperation that is
directly in the U.S. national interest.
It is not generally known that more
than 80 percent of all official capital flow
has been in the form of loans-not
grants- and most of them are repayable
in dollars., Fully half of the amount
loaned during the sixties has already
come back to the United States in the
form of payments of principal and
interest. Interest alone in the first seven
years of the decade amounted to $734
million.
Also, it is not generally known that
more than 90 cents of each dollar that is
lent is spent on United States goods and
services.
In other words, these are tied loans
which help U.S. exporters but give the
borrowing countries little flexibility to
shop around for the most favorable
terms.
Whenever we hear complaints about
the "aid burden" we should ask
ourselves: Doesn't the burden rest more
on the borrower than on the lender?
In terms, of capital flow, Latin
America is actually remitting funds to the
United States. In 1967 there was a net
inflow of capital and service payments
from Latin America to the United States
amounting to some $500 million. Latin
America, in effect, shared with the
United States some of the sacrifices
needed to safeguard the latter's external
accounts.
I should stress, of course, that the
Latin American countries seek some
major changes in the present patterns of
development financing.
They seek an expansion of the


Sby Galo Plaza-I
volurhe of financial cooperation so that
Latin America can achieve a net inflow of
funds of reasonable magnitude, rather
than net outflows, as at present. Serious
consideration should be given to the use
of the Special Drawing Rights in the
International Monetary Fund as a ready
source of additional funds from the
developed countries.
Latin Americans seek access to world
markets through more englightened trade
policies on the' part of the developed
countries and a system of generalized
preferences for products of the
developing countries, in order to permit
them to catch up.
They seek an easing of lending
conditions, with longer grace periods and
lower interest -rates, subsidized where
necessary.
They seek the untying of United
States aid, at least within the Latin
American region, and more concerted
efforts within the Organization for
Economic Cooperation and Development
to achieve an untying of credits by all
industrialized countries.
Finally, they seek cooperation in
shifting the. policy of international
financial institutions to permit program
or sectoral lending and the financing of
local currency costs where needed.
Closely related to the problem of


Latin American


Development


development financing is the problem of
trade. Latin America's share of world
trade is shrinking. While world trade grew
11.5 percent last year Latin America's
share increased by only 4 percent, the
lowest gain of any developing region.
The number-one economic objective
of Latin America in the seventies will be
to penetrate foreign markets and increase
and diversify exports. Unless the.region
can increase its exports by 6 or 7 percent
per year it cannot achieve the economic
growth rates required for adequate living
standards, reasonably full employment,
and industrialization. Attainment of the
desired growth in exports will require not
only the concerted internal effort of the
Latin American countries, but a more
liberal and far-sighted attitude on the part
of the world's major industrialized
powers, particularly the United States
and the European countries.
There is no mystery about the type
of cooperation in trade that the Latin
American countries are seeking.
These are their objectives:
Reduction or elimination of tariff
and nontariff barriers to Latin American
exports of all types.
Establishment of a system of
generalized trade preferences for
manufacturers and semimanufactures.
Consultation prior to the imposition
of measures affecting Latin America's
trade.
Establishment of national or
inter-American systems: of export credit.
Elimination of discrimination against
Latin American vessels and cooperation
in, the creation of Latin American
merchant fleets.
And, finally, stabilization of market
fluctuations through commodity


agreements, buffer stocks, and
supplementary financing.
One of the most. powerful forces in
Latin America today, and one of the least
understood outside the region, is the
upsurge of economic nationalism. I
believe that this is a positive force, not a
negative one. Foreign investment in itself
is neither good nor bad. The Latin
American countries want and need
foreign private investment, which is a
valuable source of capital and technology,
but they want it on terms that will
provide maximum benefit to their own
countries. Under the new nationalism,
only the foreign firm that is able to
contribute to economic progress and
social change is wanted. The firm that
profits from a nation's resources without
reference to the objectives of the country
and the will of the people is unwelcome,
not for, being foreign, but for being
insensitive to the local desire for reform
and development.
United States direct private
investment in .Latin America is at an
all-time high of $12 billion. Repatriated
profits are running at about 10 percent of
the book value of these investments each
year, which is not an outrageously high
return from the investors' point of view
but is of considerable concern to'the
Latin. Americans, because today the
United States is taking more out of Latin
America than it is putting in.
So long as a foreign corporation, by
its huge size and awesome economic
power, raises the fear of domination in
the Latin American mind, it will be seen
as a threat to national interests, and it
will come under suspicion and open
attack.
The upsurge ofeconomic nationalism
challenges the foreign investor and the
national government to seek new means
of accomodarion and understanding. I
have suggested the desirability of
developing more joint ventures of foreign
and domestic capital, which would
operate in the full interests of national
development and conform to local
conditions.

The difficult and delicate problems
that I have touched upon in the area of
international cooperation for
development cannot be satisfactorily
resolved on a bilateral basis, because of
the growing interrelationship of the Latin
American countries' economies as they
move toward regional integration.
Development requires a coordinated,
joint approach. Multilateral cooperation
can serve the common interest much
more effectively than bilateral
cooperation, in which political
considerations are a constant source of
friction.
Many political headaches would be
avoided for the United States if it made
development loans to Latin America in
accordance with the recommendations of
the Inter-American Committee on the
Alliance for Progress-CIAP-on the basis
of each country's performance. This was
the intent of the Fulbright Amendment,
which should be given more widespread
application, with emphasis on the
multilateral approach. CIAP is admirably
suited for the task. It has no weighted
votes; it is presided over by a
distinguished Latin American, Dr. Carlos
Sanz de Santamaria; and only one of its
ten members represents the United
States. It is fully experienced in making
annual assessments of internal and
external resource needs and availability.
The Organization of American
States, of which CIAP is a part, provides a
common meeting ground for
reconciliation of the natural interests of
each of the member states. It is both a
forum for multilateral policy-making and
a vehicle for multilateral action. It is not, .
of course, a supra-national body with the
power to impose solutions, but, to the
extent that the member states are willing
to utilize it, it is remarkably effective. O


Landscape 2


Gloom of a wintry noon . .
Dejections .. Tremors . Whites
The sky is all a conventional battle of white confetti;
and the gray wildcats of the mountains in the distance . .
Oh! beyond dwell the eternal springs I
The slumbering houses
resemble theatrical gestures of a polar explorer
That the ice froze in the cold
Out there in the Ipiranga district the workshops cough .
All the weary-laden are very white.
The winters of Sio Paulo are like the bdrials of virgins . .
Little Italian girl, torna al tuo passe !
Do you recall? The barcaroles of the blue skies in the green
waters . .
Green . the color of lunatics' eyes!
Cascades of violets down to the lakes . .
Vernal. . the color of lunatics' eyes!
God cut the soul of Sao Paulo
in an odorless gray . .
Oh I beyond dwell the eternal springs! ..
But men go by sleepwalking . .
And running around in vicious gangs,
dressed in electricity and gasoline,
sicknesses frolic about.
A great open-air spectacle!
Choreography by Cocteau with rabble-rousers by Russolo I
Opus 1921.

Sio Paulo is a stage for Russian ballets.
Here tuberculosis, ambition, envies, crimes, dance the saraband,
and also the apotheoses of illusion . .
But I am Nijinsky I
And death, my Karsavina, comes I
Ha I Ha I Ha I Let's dance the foxtrot of desperation,
laughing, laughing at our unequals I
-Mario de Andrade
Reprinted with permission from 'Hallucinated City,' by Mario de Andrade, trans-
lated by Jack E. Tomlins. Vanderbilt U. Press, 1968.






6 CAIBBCAN EVEW


West Indian


Dialogue
Sby Harmannus Hoetink


only the biological base of the society but
must also assuredly become its operative
ideal; the final point of the process being
a genuinely Caribbean mestizo society,
much, irideed, as present-day. Cuba is
already." In other words, "the real
divisions of the society are the horizontal
ones of social class rather than the
vertical ones of colour identification."
Emphasis on ethnicity, he says, "too
easily encourages an over- pessimistic
view of society." He speaks of the calm
self-assurance of the upper-class colored
West Indian groups, and of the."breezy
self- assertiveness of the West Indian man
in the street" (as compared to his U.S.
counterpart); he states that "all
socio-ethnic groups share together the
general liberal values of constitutional
democracy"; he talks convincingly about
-the rapid pace of cultural assimilation
(but declares himself against the North
American melting pot thesis), and he ends
the chapter with a poetic, enraptured
invocation of the eighteenth century
traveller Pere Labat on the ultimate


THE GROWTH OF THE MODERN
WEST INDIES. Gordon K. Lewis. 506
pp. Monthly Review Press, New York and
Mac Gibbon & Kee, London, 1968.
$12.50.
Gordon Lewis has performed another
tour de force. After his Puerto Rico:
Freedom and Power in the Caribbean
which for a long time to come will stand
out as a lonely masterpiece of
contemporary Puerto Rican.
historiography, Dr. Lewis has now'
published an analysis of the British West
Indian societies from the twenties into
the sixties-to be followed by a second
volume on the present-day state of this
area- an analysis which, if only because
of the geographical and political
fragmentation of its subject matter, had
to overcome greater obstacles of
organization and composition than the
previous one. With his clear control over
the abundant material, his keen eye for
general processes and issues at stake in
the region as a whole-yet without ever
losing interest in the illuminating or
simply picturesque detail-Lewis has
managed to strike a fortunate balance
between his descriptions of intriguing
small island history, and broad analyses
of regional, even hemispheric, problems.
After two introductory chapters, he
deals with the social and political legacy
of British colonialism; the Crown Colony
position of the Leeward and Windward
Islands; the emergence of the larger
national societies: Jamaica, Trinidad and
Tobago. Barbados and Guyana. He then
discusses the geographically marginal
areas of British Honduras, Bermuda and
the Bahamas. The smallest entities are
discussed in a chapter-The Problem of
Size-whereupon in his last three chapters
'he returns to the broader themes of
federalism and the challenge of
independence.
Because of its style, wit, and
approach, some of the author's fellow
political scientists, nurtured in the more
rigid (and also more anemic) fashions of
"modern" political science, may find it
hard to accept this work within their
discipline. This reviewer can only agree
with Lewis' repeated remark that politics
is never a first cause, but always a,
symptom or a result, of other societal
forces: an analysis of the latter must
perforce be the basis of any
politicological argument. But since a
descriptive analysis-mostly at the
"traditional" historian's level of
abstraction-had to be Lewis' main task
at this juncture, the author would not
object, I presume, to having his work
labeled a contemporary history. He
would be happy, I take it, to leave it to
the methodologically more rigid
disciplinarians of sociology and political
science, to dissect his wealth of "raw"
material, cook it in their high pressure
laboratories, and give each of the
resultant abstractions its new tautological
name. Lewis will undoubtedly then come
forward and take them to task, as he does
in this volume with the works of M.G.
Smith, Wendell Bell, et. als.
As befits a good book, Lewis' work
lends itself to emotional discussions and
disagreements. Rather than engage in
some of these, I should like to point out
what strikes me as a revealing
contradiction of moods in the book.
Unlike bad novels, this good work has
only a happy beginning. In his first
chapter, on "the West Indian Scene,"
Lewis states that the average West Indian
is a sangmeile; that "the conclusion is
unavoidable that miscegenation is not


sameness of all who are Caribbean.
But how different are the author's
appraisals and expectations, once he
starts, further in the book, to discuss the
specific realities of each society! Where
he mentions the rigid social hierarchy,
based on white endogamy, in some of the
smaller islands (with several of its
peculiarities strangely reminiscent of Alec
Waugh's Island in the Sun the distortive
character of which novel Lewis
convincingly laid bare in his first
chapter); where he speaks of Jamaica's
socio- racial three tiers, with its "cruel
pressures that make daily life so much of
a misery for the general West Indian
middle class," which masks its
frustrations and its "tragic duality of
attitudes" with the "invention of new
and ingenious colour schemes"; where he
attacks the "official myth" that race does
not really count in the harmoniously
inter-racial Jamaican community, whereas
actually the "grim reality" of Jamaican
life was (1955) that of a "racial.
separatism," (although, since "race" and
"class" mostly coincide, the ill-feeling so
far has taken on class rather than race
forms, "it only requires, perhaps,
continuing economic distress, and the
appearance of a Jamaican Malcolm X


... to promote a black revolt against the
PNP brown man's party"); when the
author speaks of the explosive dangers of
racialism in Trinidad, the possibility of
renewed racial war in Guyana, the ethnic
divisiveness in British Honduras, or of the
"entrenched white despotism" in the
Bahamas and Bermuda, one gets the
distinct impression that-to paraphrase
Lewis' own comment on the Barbadian
situation-if the vertical (?) lines of
colour identification are dead, they
adamantly refuse to lie down.
The reason for this curious and
inherent illogic appears to be simple. Just
as inside a fat man a thin man is trying to
get out, so within Lewis' intellectual
frame of mind the somewhat skeptical
historical outlook predominates, but
political idealism-in the non-
philosophical meaning of that
word-wants to be heard now and then.
Since Dr. Lewis is too good and honest a
scholar to have the two mixed where they
don't agree, he simply and justly allots
them unequal space. Hence also, after
two magnificent chapters analyzing from
myriad viewpoints the decline and fall of
British West Indian federalism, Lewis'
surprising conclusion that, since the idea
of federalism was wrong in the first place,
the appropriate political machinery
should be that of a unitary state; a dessert
of ideals (thinly disguised as common


sense) after a main course of realities.
Let it not be concluded that such
internal contradictions, unintended as
they may be, are to be considered
harmful tout court. Most scholarly books
are monologues; this one, without losing
its scholarly qualities, is a dialogue, and
its incidental lack of integration between
the author's convictions and his
descriptions is paradoxical proof of
Lewis' undeniable intellectual integrity.
His sense of fair play deserves great
praise, because it is not that abundant in
the academic playfields as some
onlookers may seem to think.
To see a man of Lewis' predilections
write about West Indian radicalism as a
combination of borrowed Labour Party
rhetoric and domestic social paternalism;
to hear him defend older Jamaican
nationalists like Mr. Manley against the
attacks of the "younger present-day
leftists"; to listen to his assessment of
contemporary Trinidad as a mixture of
British snobbery and American vulgarity;
to hear him dismiss the current fad of
blaming the slave past for all present
discontents; to have him defend "the
contribution of the best of the British
spirit to West Indian life" against Eric
Williams' contentions; to hear him make


Winter, 1969

the observation that the creole
bourgeoisie is better equipped for the
exploitation of the populace than the
colonial administrators were, because
they understand them better; to read that
the slogans of the national West Indian
struggle, mostly attacking colonialism, are
perpetuated, more and more
anachronistically, in the new situation; to
hear him declare, finally, that the British
socialist has always misconceived the
complex nature of West Indian society; is
to witness the respectable results of what
must have been a rigorously honest
scrutiny; results which, ironically, here
and there show a certain affinity with the
views of the self-exiled novelist Naipaul,
dismissed by Lewis (in his first chapter)
as "the expression of the morbid
self-contempt of which, perhaps, only the
West Indian snob is capable." This goes to
show that, at least in Mr. Naipaul's case,
there need be no incongruity between
social sin and the power of observation.
With regard to the British socialist's
misconceptions of West Indian society, I
cannot refrain from observing that to me
his misapplied arrogance is slightly more
bearable than that of his "liberal" United
States counterpart. For, whereas the
former uses a seriously distorted
historical frame of reference, the latter
uses none at all.
In reading Dr. Lewis' book, I only
rarely had the impression that a slightly
inappropriate historical frame of
reference was used. This occurred when I
came upon the adjective "Dickensian"
employed perhaps half a dozen times to
denote certain present-day political or
social conditions. It made me wonder
whether such an adjective might not
betray an underlying belief in the
inevitability of an evolution along British
lines, for if some situations are
"Dickensian" now, will they not have to
become "Osbornesque" later? But this
may be surmising too much on the basis
of too little evidence.
Each reader has his taste. Some may
like Lewis' often incisive descriptions of
small island society, such as his beautiful
page on the differences between Antigua
and St. Kitts; others, as this reviewer, will
prefer his broaching bolder topics. His
last chapter-The Challenge of
Independence-is to me a masterful piece
of work, where all of Lewis' qualities as a
writer, historian and political being
converge.
His succinct enumeration of the
"frightening. handicaps" West Indians
start out with on their road toward
national and psycho-cultural
emancipation, and his serious and
eloquent warnings about the Puerto
Rican "model" to its West Indian
imitators ("it proposes to cure the ills of
economic colonialism by re-establishing
the conditions originally producing
them") are both convincing and moving.
Th.e political and economic
alternatives to the prevailing international
patron-client relationships are scarce,
however, to say the least. Lewis'
suggestion of a regional unification within
a larger system of security against the
large outside powers was, literally, also
made some seventy-five years ago by the
Dominican politician Gregorio Luper6n,
whose country at that time, together with
Haiti, formed the only island of
sovereignty in a sea of political
colonialism.
The emergence of
more-formally-independent nations,
like the West Indian islands, seems to
multiply the number of client-states,-
rather than the number of viable
solutions leading to the type of
emancipation that Lewis so intelligently
advocates.
By adding this volume to his earlier
work, Doctor Lewis has clearly
established himself as one of today's most
articulate and authoritative writers on the
contemporary history of the Caribbean
area.-







Winter, 1969


cA? BBcAN rEVIEW


Three Men


by the River

- a short story by Ren6 Marques translated by Kal Wagenheim-


Ye shall kill the God of Fear, and only
then shall ye be free.
(Prophecy of Bayo)n)

He saw the ant hesitate, then finally
climb up the lobe and disappear into the
man's ear. As though they had heard the
alert from a seashell trumpet, which was
inaudible to him, the other ants set off on
the same route, without even hesitating,
invading the ear, which was such an
absurdly pale color.
Squatting in the ceremonial position
of a cacique upon his wooden throne,.
immobile, he watched with the
expressionless face of a cemi idol, that
might have been carved from a rich
brown guayachn tree trunk, rather than
from stone. Unblinking, he watched the
insects invade the man's ear. He felt
neither concern, nor joy, nor hatred. He
simply watched.. It had nothing to do
with him: it was inevitable, inexorable.
Dusk stained the blue sky with an
achiote red above the clearing by the
river. But the shadows were beginning to
lengthen in the nearby forest. Every
human voice was silenced by the mystery.
Only the' higuaca birds in the thicket
added a discordant note to the
monotonous song of the co-qui.
He looked up and saw his two
companions. Also squatting, immobile as
he, watching the man whose skin was
such an absurd cassava-white color. He
thought to himself that they had been
waiting for a long time. Twice the sun
had gone up over the Land of the Noble
Lord, and twice it had left. He felt deeply
grateful to them. Not for their courage.
Not even for their patience in waiting,
but for sharing his faith in this
sacrilegious act.
He felt thirsty, but didn't want to
look towards the river. The sound of the
water was now something different: the
agonizing voice of God musing over
death. He could not stop from
shuddering. The cold is coming down
from the mountain. But he wvas not really
sure if that was so. It is the cold, he
repeated to himself, stubbornly. And he
angrily clenched his jaws.
He had to be sure, sure of something
in this world, which had suddenly lost all
its meaning. As though the Gods had
gone mad, and Man were merely a
majagua flower hurled into the river's
rushing current, barely afloat, spinning,
without a path or destiny. Not like
before, when there was order in the
affairs of men and of the gods. A cyclical
order for men: the peace of the village,
and the ardor of the guasibara ceremony
preceding the battle; the blessing of the
god Yukiyu, and the fury of Juracan; life
ever good, and death ever bad. And an
immutable order for the gods, who lived
ever invisible in ,the heights of the
Mountain. Everything in the universe had
made sense, and that which did not was
the doing of the gods; men did not
discuss the wisdom of those things, since
men are not gods, and their sole
responsibility is to live the good life,
completely free. And defend it against
the Caribs, who are part of the cyclical
order, the part which emanates from the
dark shadows. But the shadows never
prevailed. Because the free life is light.
And the light shall put the shadows to
flight. It has always been thus. Since the
Great Mountain surged forth from the
sea. But catastrophe came. And the gods
came to dwell among man. And the land
had a name, a new name: Hell.
He glanced away from his two


companions and looked at the body
stretched out next to the river. His eyes
stopped at the belly. It was terribly
swollen. Pressure had torn the clothing
open and left a patch of skin in view. He
thought how the flesh looked as white as
the pulp of the guami fruit. But the
image made him feel nauseous. As though
he had inhaled the first mouthful of
sacred smoke during the intoxicating


ritual of the cohoba. Nevertheless, he
could not remove his eyes from that
protuberance, which had the mvstical
shape of the Great Mountain. And in the
crepuscular light it appeared as though
the belly grew before his eyes.
Monstrously growing, menacingly, filling
the clearing next to the river, advancing
to the thicket, ever growing, extending
across the land, destroying, flattening,
crushing the valleys, swallowing up the
tallest peaks, extinguishing life... life?

Quickly, he closed his eyes. I do not
believe in his power. I do not believe. He
looked again, and the world had returned
to its proper perspective. The swollen
belly was now just that. He felt greatly
relieved, and was able to smile. But he did
not. He did not allow his face to reflect
even slightly what he felt inside. He had
learned with the new gods.
They smiled when they hated: behind
their friendliness lurked death. They
spoke of love, and enslaved a man. Theirs
was a religion of charity and forgiveness,
and they whipped the backs of those who
wished to serve them freely. They said
they were as humble as the mysterious
child born in a manger, yet with furious
arrogance they trampled upon the faces
of the vanquished. They were as fierce as
the Caribs. Except perhaps for the fact
that they did not eat human flesh. They
were gods, nevertheless. They were,
because of how they looked, different
from all others known by man. And for
the thunder encased in their black
trumpets. They were gods. My friends
from beyond the sea are gods, Agueybana
the Elder had said.

He felt the others looking at him and
raised his eyes towards them. They
looked at each other in silence. He
thought they were going to say
something, perhaps suggest they abandon
the vigil. But in their friendly faces he
could detect neither concern nor
impatience. Their looks were firm and
assuring. Almost as though they were
trying to hearten him. Again, he felt like


smiling. But his face remained hard as
stone.

He raised his head to look upward.
The clouds were now earth-colored. Up
higher, though, were yellow gleaming.
And it was right that this be so, because
that was the color of the metal which the
new gods worshipped. And up there, in
the invisible heights called Heaven, where
the supreme god of these strange beings
reigned, everything, doubtlessly, must be
yellow. Strange, inexplicable supreme god
who became a man and dwelt among
men, and because of this was sacrificed.
"But was he a man, a flesh and bone
man like us? he had asked the white
adviser, who wore a long, dark gray cloak,
and whose head was as bare as the
higuero gourd.


"Yes, Iry Vson. A man. "
".* nd they killed him'
"Yes, they killed him.
".A nd he really died. .s a man dies?
".s a rman dies But by tile third day
lie had risen."
"Risen?"
"Yes, from the dead. He returned
to life."
"The third day "
"Retrnied to life."
"And if you are killed, will you rise
again b the third day "
"We shall only live again to be
judged."
"Judged? "
"In the Judgement of the Holy
Father."
"And when shall that be? "
"When the world no longer exists."
"Shall that be long from now? "
"Long? Perhaps. Hundreds thousands
of years."
And the god with the dark gray cloak
had smiled. And, resting his hand upon
his naked shoulder, he began to speak to
him of even stranger things, in a voice
that sounded bittersweet, like the jagua
fruit.
"You, too, my son, shall live forever,
if you live in the faith of Christ.. "
He heard the voice, but no longer
perceived the words. He certainly had no
interest in living forever under the yoke
of the new gods. Agueybana the Elder
had died. He was now succeeded by
Agueybana the Brave. Down to his
deepest roots, he felt bewilderment. He
nearly fell to his knees. He felt dreadfully
afraid for having thought of it. But at the
same time he felt a liberating sensation.
He stood up, wanting to laugh and cry.
And he began to run, letting out loud
howls and whoops. Left behind him was
the laughter of the white men. And
amidst outbursts of laughter he heard
how the voices repeated: loco! loco!
He looked down and observed the
implacable march of the ants. They no
longer followed the initial route of the
lobe. They had attacked the ear from all
sides and advanced en masse, with


disconcerting haste, as though a great war
council were being celebrated in the
man's interior.
"I need proof, proof of what you
say."
"I shall bring you proof," he said to
Agueybana the Brave.
He planned it by himself. He
transmitted his faith to two fellow
tribesmen. The three of them crossed the
forest and prepared their ambush. They
waited The day was waning when the
yucca-colored man came to the river
bank. Twice he tried to wade across. One
might believe he.didn't know how to
swim. Or perhaps he didn't want to ruin
his new clothing. He could not be afraid,
for this god was one of the brave ones.
He knew it.
He signaled to the others to be ready.
And he emerged from the thicket,
greeting him with a smile. He could lead
the white god to a shallower place. The
other, without hesitating, put his hand
out to him.
The yucca-colored hand was as
delicate as fern. And lukewarm, like
cassava toasted in the sun. His, in
contrast, burned like a lit torch of
tabonuco wood At the planned-spot, he
tugged brutally at the white hand.
Taking advantage of the momentary loss
of balance, he threw himself upon the'
body. He dug his fingers into the thin
ileck, and submerged the golden head
into the water, which erupted in bubbles.
'The others had already come to his aid.
Tenaciously they held onto the body
which moved in convulsions, keeping it
completely under water. And time flowed
by. And the river flowed And the flow of
the breeze' caught the three men,
immobile, in the midst of their
sacrilegious act.
They looked at each other. They were
expecting some manifestation, of magic.
They could not help but expect it. He
uould surge up from the waters like a
vengeful god :
But the god didn't move. They pulled
him from the water. And they stretched
him out in a clearing by the river.
"Let us wait for the sun to die and be
born three times," he said
Crouched there, they waited. The
third day was beginning, and
unimaginable things could still happen.
From the river, a sudden cold gust of
wind came up and shook the weeds next
to the body. And the stench floated up to
them. And the three of them breathed in
that repugnant odor with relief, almost
with delight. Their eyes all converged
upon one spot: the swollen belly.
It had grown tremendously. The
strained, livid dome rose nakedly through
the shredded cloth. Hypnotized, they
could not look away from that monstrous
thing. They barely breathed. Even the
earth held its breath. The higuacas fell
silent in the forest. The coquis could not
be heard. Down below, the sound of the
river was muted. And the breeze stopped
to let the silence by. The three men
waited. Suddenly it happened, it
happened before their eyes.
It was a frightful sound. The swollen
belly split open scattering into the air all
the rottenness a man can hold. The
stench was enough to frighten off a
hundred men. But they were three. Just
three. And they remained stilL
Until he stood up and said:
"They are not gods."
At his signal, the others began to put
the remains into a blue cotton hammock.
Then each of them lifted an end of the
hammock to his shoulder. Standing
motionless, they awaited his orders.
For an instant, he looked at them
tenderly. Finally, smiling, he gave the
signal to depart.
"My people will be free. Free."
He didn't say it. He only thought it.
And putting his lips to 'the seashell
trumpet, he flung into the silence of the
night a hoarse, prolonged sound of
triumph. O






8 LAIlm t.1AN tIVItW Winter, 1969


Living in Rio Verde was in a very real sense like living in
another world. The "real" world of change-of riots, revolu-
tions, politics, and business-only began to begin in Esmeral-
das at the end of that twenty-five miles of beach and ocean that
separated thd two places. It was, for me at any rate, in many
ways a profound experience to be isolated from that world that
we had been taught to believe was the real one and to be
absorbed into a world every bit as complicated but whose
main realities were the tides, the planting seasons, the winter
storms, the betrayals of neighbors, and the fight to stay alive.
It was like switching from the nervous, frenetic music of Bern-
stein or Copland to the soaring, tragic music of Roy Harris,
who speaks of more elemental things.
The Ecuadorian government, a military junta, fell one day
with riots, shooting, and mobs of determined students marching
in the streets of the main towns. (The government fell because
of these student demonstrations, and the students were furious
because they weren't allowed to run things.) That day I was
helping Ram6n and Ester split strips of-bamboo for a new
chicken house about a hundred feet from the ocean in the shade
of a large ebony tree. Ram6n had his radio outside, and we
listened to the birth pangs of the new regime-the patriotic
speeches and screeches, and the sound of martial music.
But after a while he turned it off. It didn't seem to have
much do with Rio Verde. "Well," Ram6n said, "the old gang
made its millions; now a new gang wants to rob us. You know,
it will be the same for us whoever wins. We are completely
forgotten here in Rfo Verde."

Rio Verde had. a public monument in its plaza, a ten-foot
cement column standing in the middle of a field of pigweed,
thinly painted in pink and blue; over it hung a fifty-watt
electric light bulb that danced wildly in the ocean winds. The
monument commemorated the first cry of independence in Ec-
uador, and the day it celebrated was a great day in both Rio
Verde and the province of Esmeraldas, much like our own July
fourth.
A young Communist I met in Esmeraldas told me that the
Esmeraldian cry for independence involved about five drunk
Negro slaves who whacked off a few land-owning white heads in
1820. But I hesitated to accept this cynical version, especially
since this same guy insisted on believing, even after I had
explained at least three times, that the people in the United
States are so rich that they never wash their clothes but simply
throw them away when they are dirty-a conception no doubt
based on the enormous quantities of old clothes sent by Catho-
lic relief agencies and sold to the poor by the local priests.
A few days before Rio Verde's big independence celebration
I had to go to Guayaquil on business, but the idea that I might
miss the fiesta so distressed my friends that I promised to come
back for it. "It is the most beautiful fiesta you ever saw," they
told me, "and your presence would do us a great honor."
About 7:30 the evening of the fiesta, soaking wet and more
dead than alive after fifteen hours of riding the bus, I arrived
in Rio Verde in pitch darkness over a wildly rolling sea in an
outboard motor canoe. There were two little light plants in
operation (both of them owned by storekeepers up the river
who had come down with their electrical equipment, ten or
fifteen phonograph records, and several dozen cases of beer and
aguardiente), and after five months of darkness the town had a
festive appearance. Three or four lights were twinkling in the
school building, which had been turned into a dance hall, and
on the other side of town three or four lights shone above a
cement slab, which had been rooted over with palm leaves that
threw great languorous shadows on the wall of the Teniente
Politico's office and reminded me of the simple, primitive ele-
gance of Acapulco in the 1930's.
The provincial authorities had sent a mechanic to fix the
light plant, I learned later. He had spent two days repairing
everything, and Pancho, the new manager of the plant, had
been so elated at the prospect of lights once more in Rio Verde
that he had started drinking aguardiente. About twenty min-
utes before dark he had passed out cold-along with the me-
chanic-but after so many months without light the people
were only slightly outraged. The darkness in the town empha-
sized the brilliance of the two saloner.


I


Living


Poor
by Moritz Thomsen


Moritz Thomsen, a farmer from
the West Coast, joined the Peace
Corps in 1964 when he was 48
years old. He served four years
in Ecuador during which time he
made the sensitive observations
which now serve as the basis of
his book, Living Poor. In writing,
Thomsen refers to himself with
the name his Ecuadorian friends
used, Martin.


Printed with permission from 'Living Poor: a Peace Corps Chronicle,' by
Moritz Thomsen, U. of Washington Press. Copyright (c) 1969 by University
of Washington Press. Illustration by Moritz Thomsen


I had taken four of Wai's hand-carved stools and sold them
in Esmeraldas for forty sucres each, and he met me on the dock
as I disembarked, overcome with relief that I had brought the
money. Gave him half of it, the other half to be put away for a
more sober day. As we walked toward my house I invited about
seven of my friends to come in and have a drink of whiskey, for
to celebrate the big day I had invested 20 per cent of my
monthly salary in a bottle of scotch. Except for Santo, who
said that at fifteen he had worked as a bus boy in a Guayaquil
hotel and had drained the whiskey bottles that hotel guests left
on the table, no one had ever tasted whiskey before, and it was
almost a sacred moment for them. Actually, it was almost a
sacred moment for me, too, since except for one night in Es-
meraldas with a couple of American soldiers I hadn't tasted
good scotch for over a year.
I was entertaining the beach Negroes, the more vital and
turbulent element in the town, the guys who always yelled the
loudest listening to the football games on the radio, who fished
the farthest out in the sea, who danced the craziest, who lived
freest and wildest-the poorest, the happiest, the most reck-
lessly delighted with life. I had only seen them in work clothes,
half naked, or modestly dressed up for Sunday; now they were
_wearing heavily starched white ducks with fourteen-inch cuffs
and new white shirts, the creases ironed to razor sharpness, a
magnificent bunch of men, all of them very quiet and over-
whelmed with each other's new clothes. '
We sat around in a circle and passed the bottle and a glass
around and around, each of us solemnly taking a slug, shud-
dering, smiling gravely, and then sitting in a sort of trance
with the eyes softly going glazed. We didn't stop until the
bottle was empty; it took about thirty minutes. We went out-
side and sat at a table under the electric lights, directly under
the loudspeaker. Wai had asked for the empty whiskey bottle,
which he put in the middle of the table so that everyone in town
could see it, and then he ordered seven beers, blowing in one
glorious moment almost half the money he had for the whole
fiesta-two days' work carving a wooden stool out of a solid
block of eedro.
We drank beer and listened to the music, music so loud that
it was painful, so loud that no one could speak. Ram6n ap-
peared. He had been talking for weeks about the fiesta and the
new clothes he was going to buy, but he was very conserva-
tively, almost poorly, dressed in brown cotton drill and a white
shirt, barefooted. I yelled in his ear congratulations for not
spending his egg money on fancy clothes and strutting abotit
like a fanfaron, but he only smiled a little cardsharp smile and
said nothing.
He joined us at the table, and Orestes bought eight beers. A
few people were dancing, but mostly it was girls dancing with
girls, and when they weren't dancing they sat apart waiting for
the proper time to take part in the party. The teenagers stood
off in the shadows watching everything, learning how to be
men. I went over and talked to fourteen-year-old Rufo and
asked him why'he didn't dance; he had been staring steadily at
one of the out-of-town girls ever since we had arrived. He said
he didn't know how to dance. Alvarez came to the table and
very formally presented me with a bottle of beer. About twenty
minutes later, obeying the rules, I bought a formal bottle of
beer for Alvarez.
About midnight, dazed with noise, we moved the table away
from underneath the loudspeaker, but the music was still unbe-
lievably loud. I think we had all by this time undergone perma-
nent personality damage, the blood vessels in the brain irrevoc-
ably burst. Crucelio bought eight beers. The men were dancing
now, and the married women, dressed in their finest, began to
appear. Ram6n bought eight beers. Alvaro very formally
brought a beer to the table and presented it to me. About one
o'clock, surrounded by a rapidly growing enthusiasm and at
least six full bottles of beer which I couldn't seem to dominate,
I mentioned to someone that the fiesta was indeed beautiful.
"Ohi, this isn't tRe fiesta," he said. "The fiesta doesn't start
until tomorrow." When no one was looking I slipped away and
went to bed-but not to sleep.
At eight o'clock the next morning the music was still play-
ing. Don Pablo and Mujujo across the street both had their
loudspeakers aimed at my house. Up on, the cement slab a
half-dozen couples still danced, their faces grave and ab-
stracted, dancing as partners but completely ignoring one an-
other.






CABBAN rfEVIEW


Winter 1969


I began to drink strong coffee. Wai, his clothes soiled and his
tongue thick, caie by the house and got the other half of his
money. Alvarez, Antonio, Orestes, and Ram6n each very se-
cretly borrowed fifty sucres. About 10:00 A.M. the school chil-
dren with flags, the firemen with their red shirts and red eyes,
the town officials, and the honored guests collected at the dock
and marched down the street. In front of the cement column
they sang the national anthem, but it could scarcely be heard
above the phonographs playing Ecuadorian and Colombian
dance music. In the afternoon the futbolistas crossed the river
and played game against Palestina, but only a few of the
school children watched.
By seven o'clock that night 40 per cent of the people in the
town had been more or less drunk for twenty-four hours. I
stood on the porch with Alexandro and Orestes and watched
Carlos Torres trying to pick the pockets of the Esmeraldas
mechanic, who had fixed the light plant and who had been
waving hundred-sucre bills around; he was sleeping in the
street. Carlos was too far gone to realize that at least six people
were watching him. Alexandro finally went over and took the
money out of the mechanic's pocket for safekeeping. It grew
dark. Pancho had passed out again. Another night of darkness.
The firemen had been sent a gift of240 sucres by the provin-
cial government and had invested it in a private party; I think
I was the only outsider invited. I went up to the warehouse
where they had the hoses stored and drank a Seven Up and
watched the firemen dividing up the aguardiente; they were
very serious and didn't seem to be having much fun. I told them
that I had been praying all day that a fire wouldn't start,
because if it did the whole town would go. One of them pointed
out that even when they were all cold sober it took about an
hour to string 'up the hoses, so it didn't make much difference.
"The'town burns down about every fifteen years," he said.
"Being a fireman is an honorary thing; we're not really sup-
posed to fight fires."
Carlos Torres, overcome with a crying jag, came over to talk
to me. He was a guy I had never liked much, mainly because he
was lazy and dishonest. Now he started to tell me all his prob-,
lems. His wife and children were sick in Esmeraldas; he was
broke and the firemen had refused to give him any of the money
they had received; he had lost his job with the gold miners; he
had lost his house because he couldn't pay the $1.50 rent. I
watched him as he talked, noting with scientific amazement how'
as he mentioned each problem the whites of his eyes would
suddenly turn bright red as the blood vessels swelled and a
moment later the tears would gush. I tried to fight the growing
pity I felt for him and pretty much succeeded--the gringo
moralist unable to reconcile Carlos' children sick in Esmeraldas
with his own ability to buy aguardiente and stagger around in
the street.
Wai came by again. He had a stool almost ready to sell, and
he wanted to borrow twenty sucres to buy a bottle of puro. His
face was gray, and there was clotted blood on his hand where he
had cut himself showing off with a machete.
About nine o'clock Ram6n appeared at the house where I had
retreated to wait out the fiesta. He was wearing new clothes--
black oxfords, a patent leather belt, a hat, everything new. He
was radiant and trying to hide his joy. His pants had a sort of
blue and gold and violet rainbow effect, changing color in the
light. He looked like a young executive from the American
embassy, with a very formal, pin-striped shirt. He walked into
the house, trying to be calm, as though nothing were out of the
ordinary.
"My God," I said.
He tried to talk about the fiesta, but after a minute he
couldn't stand it, and he got up and pulled a little piece of his
underwear up above the waist of his pants to show me.
"Everything is new," he said, "everything. Even the shorts."
And then, because I didn't seem to enjoy his splendor suffi-
ciently, his face clouded over. "You don't like my clothes," he
said.
"Sure, I do," I told him, "but in a sense you are mocking the
whole town and making everyone else look shoddy by compari-
son."
"Of course, I'm mocking the town," Ram6n said. "I've got a
hundred Peace Corps chickens now, twice as many as anyone. I
took all the first risks, I worked twice as hard, I suffered twice
as much. I went many days without food so that my chickens
would live well. And now. Now the town must know that I am


no longer just a poor beach zambo. Ha! I am a man of nego-
tiations, and Martin, in a way it is for you and for the Peace
Corps that I want to dress well. Fine clothes, that is something
a poor man understands."
"Maybe you're right," I said, "but it worries me when you
spend money on clothes before you buy the corn for the dry
months ahead."
"Don't worry. I am buying the pants for seventy-five cents a
month; that's only about a dozen eggs; in four months, little
by little, the pants will be paid for."
Ram6n wanted to visit with me, but more he wanted to walk
in the street in his fine new clothes and soon he left. "I am
going to walk around a little," he said, "and then I am going
to drink no more than two beers, at the very most two beers,
and then I am going to walk around a little more and go.home."
He told me that Rufo finally had started to dance the night be-
fore, that he had fallen madly in love with the teenager from
Montalvo and that suddenly he started to dance; he had danced
all night and he was sick with love.
Outside the music played. Across the street next to the ce-
ment slab three or four women stood by the crack in the jail
wall handing bananas and bread into the cell, where their
husbands were recuperating from the glorious hand-to-hand
combat in the street. In the half-built house next to my garden
six out-of-town visitors slept; from time to time one of them
would rise, pick his way over the sleeping bodies, and be sick on
my eggplants.
The third day of the fiesta things slowed down a little.
Almost everyone was sick or broke or heavily in debt.. The lines
of credit had dried up. Heads ached, hands trembled. Walking
up the beach to go fishing in the ocean, Ram6n and I passed
Wai's house; Wai sat in the window looking out over the sea. I
asked him why he wasn't fishing. He didn't answer me, but
simply put his hands to his head. Three hours later Wai met me
as I passed his house again. He wanted me to come up and see
the stool that was almost made and tell him if I would consider
loaning him another twenty sucres to feed the kids; they hadn't
eaten much in the last couple of days, he said. What had I
thought of the Rio Verde fiesta?
"Absolutely fantastic," I told him.
"Yes," he said, not quite understanding my meaning. "It's a
truly beautiful fiesta, but listen, Don Martin, there is a fiesta
on the thirtieth in Rocafuerte that is even more beautiful, and
you must be sure and honor it with your presence." 0





Youth at work in Cuba: the phrase can conjure up poster
images of a sturdy young man with hoe in hand, gazing across
newly planted fields into a boundless future, or a smiling girl
displaying a sack of freshly picked coffee beans and not one
drop of sweat on her pretty face. But Cuban posters are usually
better than that, and Cuban youth at work isn't like that at all.
It is, rather, a stirring and hectic and live phenomenon, involv-
ing people who are not quite "New Men" nor old ones either.
To work with them for a while is to understand how the Revo-
lutionary present has one foot in the past and another in the
future-yet its own separate identity as well. That was one rea-
son why the Isle of Pines, now being renamed the Isle of Youth,
seemed to me the single most exciting place in Cuba.
The Isle of Pines, the largest land body in an archipelago of
350 islets and cays, is about the size of Delaware and lies some
fifty miles off the southwest coast of Cuba. Squarish in shape, it
vaguely resembles an old schooner with sails hoisted. Christo-
pher Columbus landed there in 1494 and claimed it for his
patrons, but Spain virtually ignored the island during the next
three and a half centuries. It became a refuge and rendezvous
for high-class pirates like Francis Drake, Henry Morgan, and
John Hawkins as well as for some lower-class buccaneers. The
last pirate in the classic style was Pepe "El Mallorquin" who
took over the island in 1822. Some years later, Robert Louis
Stevenson wrote a book about those days; in it, the Isle of Pines
became Treasure Island.
I went to the island the first time partly out of curiosity and
partly because some American friends were going anyway, to
make a documentary movie. At the small airport, a guide and
two cars hired by the film-makers stood waiting. The guide was
Malena: a handsome and unusually poised girl of twenty-three
from the province of Oriente. She had Indian features and col-
oring, brown eyes, and short brown hair with a slight kink in it.
There was a lisp in her low voice; like most Cubans of her age,
she spoke no English. Her inexpensive clothes looked well put
together: trim white pants, bright blue overshirt, matching
scarf and shoulder bag. Her manner was warm, humorous, effi-
cient.

Printed with permission from 'The Youngest Revolution: a Personal
Report on Cuba,' by Elizabeth Sutherland, with photos by Leroy Lucas.
Copyright (c) 1969 by Elizabeth Sutherland. The Dial Press, Inc.


'1~2~,
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Young


Cuba
by Elizabeth Sutherland


I'""~"~' ,







CArIBBEAN rEVIEW


Winter, 1969


On the long ride to the Colony Hotel, where foreign visitors
still stayed, Malena talked a little about herself. A militante of
the Communist Youth League, she had studied Russian and
become a translator at a time when Cuba's economic emphasis
was on industrialization. With the shift to agricultural devel-
opment and the existing labor shortage, as well as her militant
responsibility to set an example, she had begun to rethink her
life and eventually decided to come to the Isle. "At first I wasn't
so keen about signing up for two years," she said. "But since
getting here six months "ago, I am very, very happy. My only
problem is that I am anxious to get back to my camp and
agricultural work. I am a temporary guide, because there are so
many visitors now." That night in the hotel, she stayed up until
four o'clock in the morning making arrangements for the Amer-
ican film-makers. Three hours later, our group began its three
days of travel around the island.

We passed many times through Nueva Gerona, the capital,
because the roads leading to different parts of the island-and
there were still few of them-all passed through it. Nueva
Gerona felt like a frontier town: laid out in neat squares, un-
mellowed, bustling with people and movement. The scarcity of
telephones on the Isle (and girls-only one to every fifteen
males) gave social contact a particular intensity. Every place
for eating, every cafe, seemed to be jammed every evening and
offices as well stayed busy until late at night, with'jeeps pulling
up and leaving again constantly.
But the town's finest hour came just after dawn and again
around five or six in the afternoon, when open trucks packed
with workers would pass through on their way to the fields or
back to the camps after work. Then all the children, and some
adults too, stood in front of their homes along the road to cheer
and wave at the workers, who cheered and waved at them. The
passage along the roads was a grand procession, spontaneous
despite its many repetitidns. Girls on the trucks would sing
along the way, alternating love songs and Revolutionary
anthems indiscriminately, so that one minute it was "Tu serds
mi baby" or "Me enamored" and the next it was "Arise, ye
prisoners of starvation" or "Forward, Cubans . ." When a
truckload of girls from one camp passed a truckload of girls
from another, there was a great calling-out to individual friends
and shouted demands for the latest information about so-and-
so. When a truckload of girls passed a truckload of boys, a
wild kind of cheering rang out and the boys' arms stretched
forth toward the girls longingly until they were far apart
again.
We visited a dozen camps of different types in different parts
of the island, each with its particular qualities and atmosphere.
Patria (Homeland) was a trim cluster of cinder-block or wooden
buildings enhanced by flowers, with a pleasant, open-air dining
hall. As in many camps, the toilets were Turkish and a shower
was a bucket of water-but that did not seem to hurt morale.
All the two-h'undred-odd girls did a specialized type of work:
grafting citrus plants. In addition, they were all from Havana
and most had been on the island for several months. Thus
when they came marching home from the fields at the end
of the day, singing, or sat eating around the long table at night,
an exceptional pride and congeniality filled the hir.
"Free Algeria Camp," on the other hand, was one where
former delinquent boys had come (voluntarily) to do various
types of ordinary fieldwork. Recruited by the neighborhood
C.D.R.'s, they received forty dollars a month instead of eighty-
five dollars (but that included cigarettes) and they studied three
hours a day instead of the usual one or two. Discipline, which
had been strict when they first arrived a few months back, was
more relaxed now, yet still stricter than in other camps. When I
asked a quiet youth what he planned to do after his two years
on the island, he replied, "I will go wherever the Revolution ..."
and was reluctant to say more. There were also young men like
the cook: a seventeen-year-old boy with a thin, merry face, who
chatted in a relaxed way. "I never worked as a cook before--
they suffered at first, I'm afraid," he said, stirring his pots
jauntily. The camp's spirit seemed tentative, still in the process
of crystallization.
Yet another feeling pervaded the camp of male students from
Havana's Art School, who were there for a forty-five-day
stint of volunteer work. They had put up signs all over the
camp's roughhewn buildings: "Coppelia" on the battered frame
dining hall, "Hotel Habana Libre" on the dormitory, and "Pri-
vate Bath" outside the communal toilet. They did the usual,
backbreaking fieldwork-hoeing, scattering fertilizer, weeding
-but in the evenings they put on musical and dramatic per-
formances around the island. This was the cool camp of the
Isle.
Like Patria, the camps of vaqueros-cowhands-had a spe-
cial atmosphere of pride and unity. Herding the cows out to
pasture, bringing them in at milking time or lassoing a calf, the
youths-mostly under twenty-rode their horses with an air
which combined Western cowboy style with Latin machismo.
The boys wlp milked the cows or cleaned the stalls had less
swagger but worked with equal concentration. One of them
pointed to some F-1 calves, product of the.first crossbreeding
between Cuba's Cebu and the Holstein: "We call them 'the sons
of Fidel.'" The name came from the fact that this crossing
had been Fidel's idea, and that the animals represented the
future of the nation-in a literal sense. "Fidel knows all
their names," the vaquero went on, "not just here but all over
Cuba. And he supervises all the crossings." "Do you think
he'll still know all the names when we get to F-4?" another
youth asked as he walked in from lassoing some strays. In
the vaquero camps, where the workers were responsible for
animate creatures, there seemed to be a kind of involvement
absent in camps where people related only to plants-and often
weeds at that.
At the camp called Revolution, we were almost startled
when the blond girl responsable-person in authority-wel-
comed us with miniature bottles of rum, to be drunk on the
spot. That was part of the generally more relaxed and mature


Photo by Leroy Lucas


scene at "Revolution" and also at "Liberty." Most of the camps
had ani all-boy or all-girl population; these two were integrated.
"If it works out well," the responsible said, "future camps will
be mixed too. But we couldn't start all of them that way." The
workers at "Revolution" and "Liberty"-who included a few
married couples-were fewer in number, somewhat older, and
had a higher level of education than the people at the other
camps. They did the same kind of work out in the fields but the
atmosphere at the camps themselves was more like that of a
college campus, with recreation halls, libraries, and even a
beauty shop at "Liberty" for the residents.
Neither camp had the degree of semi-military discipline pre-
vailing elsewhere. This discipline generally meant division of the
workers into pelotdnes (platoons); morning and evening forma-
tion for announcements; marching on the way out to work and
coming home. At all camps, the day began at about five;
work hours ran from around seven-thirty until about five. After
dinner, something was always happening: a class or a Ping
Pong contest, perhaps an evening of drawing cartoons about
imperialism. By eleven, lights were usually out in the dormi-
tories. Once a week "Pass Day" rolled around: work stopped
at about eleven in the morning and everyone was on his own
until curfew some twelve hours later. For segregated campers,
this was the only time in the week when the sexes could mix
legitimately: at other times, men and,women were not even
supposed to speak together except by permission or under
unusual circumstances. Every forty-five days, all workers had
five days off plus travel time in which they could go home to
visit family and friends. But sometimes their leaves were post-
poned-Malena, for example, had not been able to take hers
yet because of all the visitors she had to show around.
Schedules were always subject to adjustment for an emer-
gency situation. At eleven-thirty one night, we went to the
grapefruit packing plant; a freighter was leaving for Europe in
three days and two shifts of girls were working almost around
the clock to meet the goal of a five-hundred-ton shipment. The
man in charge had been born on-the Isle of Pines, a rarity, and
ran this plant before the Revolution. He had a fairly complex
operation on his hands: unloading the fruit as it came in from
the groves, maturing it in dark, dry rooms for three days, wash-
ing and polishing it, then sorting and packing it by hand into
cardboard boxes marked "Treasure Island--Grapefruit" and
"lie du Trisor-Pamplemousse." Only the best went abroad; re-
jects were set aside to be sold in Cuba or juiced. The girls
worked seriously and steadily as the belt bringing the grapefruit
down for selection clanked on through the night and the boxes
filled with fruit piled up.
On the last day of our visit, we went to the old prison once
called "Model."
The Presidio had continued to function after the overthrow of
Batista, as a place for those caught in counter-Revolutionary
activity. The Revolutionary administration was decent, an ex-
prisoner working in Nueva Gerona said, and the three-stage
"Re-education Program" initiated by the state led to the early
release of many. Re-education meant lectures, reading, and
especially working, although the desire simply to get out and be
with one's family seemed to have been a strong motivating force
for becoming "rehabilitated." The ex-prisoner with whom we
talked sounded that way. A bakery owner before the Revolu-
tion, he had joined a clandestine sabotage group in the early
sixties. Then he was caught, served three years of his ten-year
sentence, and had been released after a year in the Re-educa-
tion Program. Now working as a bakery supervisor, he didn't
sound very converted to Revolutionary ideals-but he had
become a productive citizen and no more was demanded.
In all of the Presidio, a single cell still had its original, barred
door: the one in which Fidel Castro spent three months after
the abortive Moncada.attack. Others caught in that attack had
also been put in the Presidio-like Juan Almeida, who would
climb up to his cell window and sing out the July 26 anthem
(for which he received a beating and fractured arm). But
Fidel's cell, located by itself in the hospital building, had been
retained as a museum with a small exhibit of Revolutionary
photographs and mementoes. In striking contrast to the cir-
culares, this cell contained two rooms of decent size and a
shower. "Well," a guard explained, "Fidel's family was large,
and some of them were influential . ." Later, someone else
said that the purpose had been to isolate Fidel from other pris-
oners. Probably both explanations were true, but the guard's
directness provided one of those small, pleasing moments that
often occurred in Cuba despite all the reasons Cubans have to
be cautious with American visitors.
The administration building of the Presidio, a tolerable-look-
ing structure which hid the circulares from view as you arrived
at the prison, now housed a new school: the Rebel Youth
School City. Close to a thousand young men were already there,
studying to be-agricultural technicians (plans called for that
enrollment to be expanded to twenty thousand). Their fields:
citrus fruit, cattle, hydraulics, soil conservation-all particularly
relevant to the Isle. Meanwhile, architecture students from the
University of Havana were working to redesign the buildings-
especially the circulares. What they could do with those sinister
beehives, nobody yet knew. "But they must look different, abso-
lutely different," school officials agreed.
On the road leading from the Presidio back to the main
highway, we passed a large building with a new sign in front of
it that said, "Campamento Juvenil Livia Gouverneur." I asked
Malena, the guide, about it and she said, "That is my camp.
Unfortunately we have no time left to go there. But it is the
most interesting camp on the island," she added, a littk mys-
teriously. "You should come back and see it." Then sec rode
with us to the airport and seemed genuinely sad when t!; plane
was ready to take off. She stood on the observation deck. smil-
ing and waving her blue scarf for a long time, even a-ter the
plane had lifted high and turned north toward Havana. j"


I- --







Winter, 1969 CAIBBCAN rEVIE


THE LOSERS. Paul D. BetheL 600
pp. Arlington House, New York, 1968.
$10.
It seems proper to ask whether
literature trying to explain communism as
either a perversion or a corruption of the
human condition is achieving its goals: to
stop the diffusion of evil and to
strengthen the cause of virtue. According
to those works the communists are so
bright, skillful and diligent while their
opponents are so dull and casual, that the
unbiased reader begins to doubt the
convenience of joining such a noble
cause, inexorably condemned to fail due
to the great disproportion between the
qualifications of the communists and
those of their opponents.
The present book is a good example
of that kind of stuff. Although Bethel is
very far from being consistent, it is
obvious that when he places Cuban
communist Alfredo Guevara together
with Castro at the "communist uprising"
of Bogota, in 1948,-neither Guevara was
there nor was the "bogotazo" a
communist uprising, according to the best
sources available-the intention of the
author through such association is to
suggest Castro-Communist collaboration
at least since that date. But if this
relationship goes back to 1948, since no
one has shown similar communist
involvements, we have to conclude that
already in those distant days the
communists had discovered Castro's
qualifications, and guessed the rewards
they were to receive from him twelve
years later, which is tantamount to
recognizing them as possessing prophetic
powers.
It can be argued that such long and
close identification makes it very difficult
to understand many Cuban revolutionary
events. For example, the first Escalante
purge in 1962, the recent trial against the
micro-fraction, in which even the
activities of Soviet agents in Cuba were
denounced, or the frequent quarrels
between Castro and the Russians. But
those difficulties can be easily dispelled
following Bethel's logic. He knows that
Castro "is in the pockets of the
Russians." Consequently it might be that
those events are no more than the acting
of a new play, the script of which has
already been written, and its meaning will
only be understood when Castro, or his
"bosses", decide to reveal the new plot.
This hallucinating interpretation of
the Cuba evin Revoutionacieves its true
peak in Bethel's version of the October
crisis. According to him, Khrushchev
made visible from the beginning the
installment of missiles in Cuba because he
exactly foresaw the future U.S. reaction.
Therefore, when President Kennedy
signed the American "capitulation" -this
is whathe the author calls the October 28
letter sent by the President to the Soviet
Premier that made possible the solution
of the crisis-Khrushchev took away "the
low performance weapons that could
barely reach the city of Miami, Florida,"
hid the ICBMs in previously prepared
caves, where they still are, and
accepted-without giving anything-the
solemn American promise not to invade
Cuba. The existence of such a promise is
"proved," let me add, because Bethel,
who has written six hundred pages to
warn us about the tricky nature of
Communism, has decided that Castro's
words to N.Y. Times reporter Herbert
Matthews, asserting the reality of the
compromise, must be accepted as the
Gospel only on this particular occasion.
If it is so easy for the Communists to


by Andres Suirez-1
deceive their opponents, the reason is
that at least since Kennedy achieved
the Presidency, the cause of virtue is in
the hands of "the losers." On page 31
Bethel defines the losers as those
frustrated individuals who, after failing in
the democratic society, look for shelter in
such "safe havens" as the bureaucracy


t

From 'Barbarous Mexico,'by JohnKen- c
rneth Turmer, L. Texas Press, 1969. M
t]


and the universities. And perhaps because
he enjoyed one such haven, the USIA, he
adds another characteristic which indeed
can not be attributed to him: lack of
masculinity. It is due to this deficiency
that the losers "are attracted like flies to
those, like Castro or Che Guevara, of
virile image."
Nevertheless, a careful inspection of
the book shows that the author does not
always follow his own definition. If
during the October crisis you did not
understand that the only fitting solution
.was "to bomb the missile sites, the
airfields and even the supply depots" in
Cuba; or since last 1967 you did not see
that the Chilean Christian Democrats
offered "unmistakable evidence" of
nroving towards totalitarianism; or you
ignore that the right way to handle Latin
American affairs is showing manliness,
because they "are extraordinarily
impressed by virility"; or you believe in
another answer to the very complex
problems of American foreign policy than
to "throw the old concepts of world
conduct out the window and form a
philosophy of ideological and physical
combat," then even if you are a well
adjusted individual and your hormones
are all right, you are still a "loser"
according to Mr. BetheL It would seem
that so unusual an approach-to the study
of communism would be supported by
both plentiful and faultless sources. But
none of them are found in this book. The
communist control of the Dominican
Revolution, on April 25,1965, at 6 A.M.,
is "proved" by the logbook of a
Panamian ship docked at that time in the
Ozama river. President Kennedy's
"capitulation" in October 1962, is
explained as the climax of a policy of
talking to the Soviets, outlined since he
was a Senator and revealed by him to that
"distinguished Cuban statesman Nuftez
Portuondo" -a politician for whom it is


John Wayne


on Cuba


CHE, a Sy Bartlett-Richard Fleischer
production, presented by 20th Century
Fox. Featuring Omar Sharif and Jack
Palance, directed by Fleischer, screenplay
by Bartlett and Michael Wilson.
Having been called upon to review the
movie "Che" several weeks after seeing it,
one attempts to rewind the reel of one's
mind, to splice together the frames of
one's reference, to spin forth the
mutilated, jumping print, to try and
remember what the hell went on.
It is very difficult to reconstruct such
a nebulous, nowhere film. The movie, in
case you haven't heard, professes to be an
objective, many-sided view of the
revolutionary years of Ernesto "Che"
Guevara. But what was actually shown on
the screen was so meaningless in
biographical, aesthetic or any other
possible terms that it's really hard to
remember what happened up there
between the opening scene of a dead Che
and the closing scene of a very dead Che.
Well, one thing was clear: while the


by Robert Friedman.J
Movie might have been going nowhere,
the Hollywood hustlers responsible for it
knew exactly where they were going. To
the bank. In a hurry. They had one
inspiring objective: take the money and
run while the spirit, if not the body, is
still warm.
The last thing they wanted was a film
that would involve the viewer. The idea
was to get them all into the movie house,
the kids with the Che posters on the walls
as well as the Invade Cuba strategists, get
them in there, tell them' nothing they
didn't already know and let them leave
the theater feeling superior to Hollywood
historians.
While he was in Puerto Rico, where
most of the film was shot, Richard
Fleischer, the director, was quoted as
saying: "The structure of the film. is
unique, composed of a series of
interviews with people who knew Che
and are neither pro nor anti. Sometimes
they contradict one another. At the end
of the film, it is up to the viewer to
believe what he wants." One could almost


Che. Hmm.


hard to score one service in favor of his
country since voting for Machado's
reelection in 1928. The accusation that
Roger Hillsman ordered the assassination
of South Vietnam's President Diem is
based on the vague affirmation that
officers at the State Department "now
believe that." The most terrifying
descriptions of the present Cuban
situation, including the extraction of
blood from prisoners just before being
executed, and the executions en masse,
are based on some exile's story. (After
Dachau and Spandau we can not totally
reject the possibility of events such as
these happening now in Cuba. But to
make them believable something more is
required than the statement of one exile.)

This book is described on its initial
page as "the definitive report, by one
eyewitness, of the communist conquest
of Cuba and the Soviet penetration in
Latin America." Over looking the
exaggeration- obviously the author has
not been an eyewitness to everyone of
the incidents included in this
encyclopedia of communist crime- there
is at least one story which makes me
doubtful even of the events which the
author writes..he saw.

In the summer of 1958, Bethel writes
(page 40), he and a crew of the USIS were
travelling through the provinces of
Havana and Pinar del Rio, showing
propaganda movies. One night they
reached a town-name not
iientioned-where they were warned by
the "bodeguero": "the barbudos are all
around," traffic has been forbidden at
night. But one of the customers
disagreed. He asked one of the USIS men
f he really had movies, and after
receiving a satisfactory answer made an
appointment for another place later in
he night. When Bethel arrived there he
was amazed. "Men on horses rode in out
f the dark, some carrying rifles, others
with pistols shoved into their belts." In
:he gathering there were mixed negroes,
nulattoes, and "the blue-eyed, bronzed
farmers of Spanish descent." (! ) The
Ihow went on, and for two hours the
people enjoyed the reels, including the
presence on the screen of President
Eisenhower, which was received with a
round of applause, despite the fact that,
as we have been told, the "barbudos"
were all around. Bethel was particularly
mpressed by the ingenuity of the guajiros
in protecting the show. "Every so often
one would rise in the audience and, with
:he rifle slung down, disappear into the


darkness. The man he replaced would
soon appear, lay his rifle down and watch
the movie." As you see, a touching scene:
Facing the threat of the barbudos, some
of them like Castro, collaborating with
the Communists since 1948, the Cuban
guajiros, arms in hand, protect their right
to watch American movies, and to
acclaim President Eisenhower.
A very touching scene indeed but
highly difficult to believe. In the first
place, in the summer of 1958 some
American military and civilian personnel
kidnapped by the forces under the
command of RaIl Castro were released.
The reason given by one of the present
Under Secretaries at the Cuban Ministry
of the Armed Forces, then Major Anibal,
was the situation in Lebanon which gave
"the higher priority to the fight against
world communism" (N.Y. Times, July
20, 1958). Why then did the barbudos in
the Western Provinces have to oppose the
show offered by USIS, when their
comrades in Oriente were trying to help
the anti-communist cause? In the
second place, as is well known by
everyone living in Havana and Pinar del
Rio at that time, among thdm the author
of the present review, the barbudos, very
few indeed, only appeared there in the
last two months of 1958 and were never
strong enough to forbid traffic.. Those
who really walked around the towns and
the countryside were the members of
Batista's Army Forces, particularly those
under the command of a certain
Lieutenant Menocal, clubbing or killing
any innocent passerby who had the bad
fortune to meet them. Were perhaps
Menocal's men those who protected
Bethel's exhibition? Fortunately, I never
had the opportunity to check the color of
Lt. Menocal eyes. But as far as I can
remember he was "bronzed." So it is
possible that Bethel took him to be one
"blue-eyed bronzed farmer of Spanish
descent."
It would be wrong to conclude from
the present review that The Losers
lacks any merit. On the contrary, it has
some, although not -as an "eyewitness
report", but as a singular interpretation
of American Foreign Policy in Latin
America, something like "The John
Wayne Approach to Foreign Policy." As
such, only one doubt prevents me from
fully recommending it. I wonder about
the reaction of the imaginary reader after
knowing he has to read 600 pages to learn
what a man with a cowboy mentality has
to say about so complex a subject. C






CAIBBEAN IEVIeW


Winter, 1969


hear an off-screen voice booming through
at movie's end: "Now, you be the judge."
Fleischer added in the interview: "As a
guerrilla, he (Guevara) was one of the
great losers of all time. In more than a
year in Bolivia, he killed 57 Bolivians,
nothing more. But what he accomplished
through his death, by becoming a symbol
to the young, was something else." Yet,
except for a newsreel backdrop to the
final titles of some people rioting
somewhere for something, there was
nothing of this accomplishment in the
movie. Which is sort of like making a film
about Christ and leaving out the part
about his founding a religion.
The guise was "objectivity," but the
technique was to neutralize, to block any
emotions such a film could build. Part of
it does come back, after all. There is a
scene after Che's assassination (in which
20th Century Fox assures us "the C.I.A.
was not involved") when Bolivian
peasants file past his remains. "Why are
there so many people here?" a North
American reporter asks the Bolivian army
officer-in-charge. "When a gangster is
killed in your Chicago, does not his
funeral draw. crowds of curiosity
seekers? the officer answers in words to
that effect. The reporter purses his lips:
Hmm. The viewer is also meant to purse
his lips. The movie ends more or less on
this note. What could be more neutral
than a great audience-issued Hmm as The,
End approaches, unless, as was the case
the evening I saw the film, the Hmms are
droned out by the Zzzs?
As if the intent wasn't bad enough,
the actual execution was abominable.
Scenes are pieced together like panels in a
comic book, all about the same length,
allowing for about as much insight into
the characters of Che; Fidel and assorted
others as one gets from reading Superman
or Batman. I take that back. One perusal
of any edition of Action Comics will give
infinitely more understanding of what
makes Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne and their
alter egos tick than the moviegoer ever
gets about the cardboard cutouts
supposed to be making history. Credit
director Richard ("Dr. Doolittle," "The
'Boston Strangler") Fleischer and
scriptwriters Michael Wilson and Sy
Bartlett for the cutouts. Color Omar
ShariPs Che bland. Fold Jack Palance's
Fidel as you would some kind of slightly
retarded, ranting nut. Dress them in
fatigues. Clip beards behind their ears.
Stick cigars in their mouths. Draw
balloons of cliches for them to "speak."
Make believe they are real people.
Which is more than Sharif and
Palance seem to do. Their acting is one
bad scene after .another. Sharif really
can't help it, because he's not a good
actor. His big box office asset are those
large, liquescent brown eyes that always
seem on the verge of overflowing, which
may have been all right for Zhivago, but
wasn't really Che's style. Omar is a special
type of passive male sex symbol for the
frustrated, aggressive ladies in the
audience. He's manly when he has to be,
but he'd rather fill his eyes than fight.
When, towards the movie's end, he is
balled out by a goatherder who has ratted
on him because "since you come here,
my goats no more give milk," he takes it
all with a shake of the head and an
exasperated "Pshaw." Then he walks to
the room where he knows he will be shot.
That's the way Che would have really met
his death? I'll bet.
Palance is a big disappointment
because he's an actor with large
capability. Anyone who s:-" "Sudden
Fear" or "Attack" know. this. But what
does he do with the role of Castro? Well,
one of the historians on the lot must have
told him, or he must have read
somewhere, that Fidel curves out his
words with his hands and squints a lot
when he speaks, because Palance is all eye
squints and hand curves, like a. horny
Italian shaping the figure he just saw pass.
Instead of depending on his own intuitive


talent, he took someone's word about
Castro's "essence" and wound up with a
caricature. Most of the emoting is on this
level, except for Puerto Rican actor
Miguel Angel Suirez, who, in the small
role of a stool pigeon guide paid to kill
Castro, gives about the only credible
performance in the movie.
The, relationship dreamed up between
Che and Castro for the screen is really
weird. Throughout the fighting scenes in
Cuba, Castro is portrayed as a boobus
Cubanus, about as adept at leading a
revolutionary army as General Halftrack,
commander of Beetle Bailey's outfit.
Castro keeps mapping out battle plans
and Che keeps showing him the obvious
idiocies and how it should be done. Then,
after Havana is taken, Fidel becomes very
possessive, like a Jewish mother. "You
have to go to Bolivia, don't you? Why


Caribbean


Inferno
by Susan Sheinmanj


THE DAY THE WORLD ENDED.
Gordon Thomas and Max Morgan
Witts. 308pp. Stein and Day, 1969.
$6.95.

Gathered in the cathedral, on the 8th
of May, 1902, inhabitants of St. Pierre,
Martinique "...were destined never to
complete their act of worship." The
decision to evacuate the town had come
too late. Weeks of eruption from Mt.
Pelee came to a fatal climax as a huge
fireball tore itself from the volcano and
thundered down, leveling the city. St.
Pierre became a veritable inferno with
everything ablaze, including the
surrounding waters which were covered
by flaming rum.
This Caribbean inferno, however, was
more than the sheets of fire and scorching
heat that destroyed 30,000 lives. The
people of Martinique recall those
condemned to Dante's rings of hell
The Mt. Pel6e disturbances began
about four weeks before the tragedy.
By May 2nd. ash shrouded St. Pierre
and a shock wave from the growing
volcanic activity damaged the underwater


.telegraph to Dominica, one of
Martinique's major communication 'links.
On May 3rd torrential floods, earth
tremors, and the first real flow of lava
spewed forth. Livestock were
asphyxiated.
The situation by May 5th was
menacing, and various ship captains
weighed anchor at a safe distance. The
same day the garrison commander in St.
Pierre telegraphed a message to the
governor in Fort-de-France, describing
the situation as a total disaster-the mud
flow, a tidal wave, hundreds of dead
animal carcasses, an outbreak.of
smallpox.
By May 6th, all telegraph cables from
St. Pierre and Fort-de-France were
broken-Martinique was isolated from the
world.
The tragedy of May 8th moved
steadily toward its climax. Despite all
warnings St. Pierre was not evacuated.
Political expediency, greed, and'
indecision were to "...fatally overrule all
other considerations."
Politics in Martinique then consisted


don't you stay home and settle down like
the rest of the revolutionaries? You raise
a revolutionary and that's the thanks you
get." If the dialogue isn't precise, the
sentiment is.
In the past, Hollywood has always
treated modern Caribbean history in
musical terms. Someone would shout:
"Carnival! and out would shuffle native
women with bandannas on their heads
and native men in accordion-sleeved
shirts, shaking maracas. And that,
perhaps, is where the makers of "Che"
could have really gone right, The movie
would have undoubtedly been a greater
commercial success with some snappy
songs and dances. All sorts of possibilities
arise. Ads like "Palance Sings! and "See
Che, Che, Che Do The Cha, Cha, Cha! "
They could have, at least, sent the
audience home singing. 0


I Seek a Form ...

I seek a form that iny style cannot discover,
a bud of thought that wants to be a rose;
it.is heralded by a kiss that is placed on my lips
in the impossible embrace of the Venus de Milo.
The white peristyle is decorated with green palms;
the stars have predicted that I will see the goddess;
and the light reposes within my soul like the bird
of the moon reposing on a tranquil lake.
And I only find the word that runs away,
the melodious introduction that flows from the flute,
the ship of dreams that rows through all space,
and, under the window of my sleeping beauty,
the endless sigh from the waters of the fountain,
and the neck of the great white swan, that questions me.

-Ruben Dario


Reprinted withpermission from 'Selected Poems of Rub6n Daro,' University of Texas Press, 1965. (c) 1965 by
the University of Texas Press. Portrait of Darfo by Vizquez Diaz. translated by Lysander Kemp


of two opposing camps: the Progressive
Party, following traditional French
Colonial policy and advocating total
white supremacy, had for centuries
produced the senator and two deputies
who represented the island's political
views in Paris.
In 1899, however, the Radical Party
candidate for senator, Am6dee Knight,
had won. This party represented the
emerging Negro and mulatto population
and was "...making a firm bid to wrest
total political control of the island." The
forthcoming elections were to be held on
May 11th. This fact above all else was to
determine the actions of the governor,
Louis Mouttet, during the critical days
before Mt. Pelee's final eruption.
Desiring to retain his position, as
Colonial Governor, along with all its
power and comforts, Louis Mouttet
ignored the threat of Mt. Pelee. Official
recognition of the forboding situation
might cause panic, sparking a mass
exodus, which in turn would cost the
Progressive Party votes. Rigidly following
this line of thinking Mouttet, on May
2nd, intercepted an alarming message
addressed to Washington by the American
Consul.
By May 4th, twenty-six days after
Mt. Pele began to erupt, Mouttet finally
decided to send word to the Minister of
Colonies in Paris. It was the first official
notice the world received of the
impending devastation.
The telegram, however, made no
mention of various earthslides, fissures,
and the complete destruction of several
outlying villages. Instead, St. Pierre was
described as a refuge for rural inhabitants.
The communication concluded that the
eruption seemed to be on the wane.
The most amazing thing about the
telegram was that it was more than mere
political chicanery. Perhaps to ease a
guilty conscience or perhaps as an
indication of growing madness, Mouttet
actually began to believe what he had
written.
His belief was further reinforced by
the report of the Commission of Inquiry
formed to study the danger of the
Volcano.
The Commission, or Action
Committee, was composed of various
leading citizens of St. Pierre and included
Father Roche and Professor Landes, who
were considered to be "experts." Their
report to the governor turned out to be a


_ I







Winter, 1969


CA BBEAN REVIEW


whitewash, ignoring the flow of boiling
mud, gigantic waves, and the general state
of terror existing in St. Pierre. It's hard to
say what motivated Landes and Roche.
Rather than political greed, general
ignorance and pride in their own
inaccurate appraisals appear to have been
their weakness.
Meanwhile, the Radical Party and its
leader Amedee Knight were also trying to
manipulate the danger of Mt; PelBe to
their advantage. Knight was seen by the
Negro and Mulatto community as the
black boy from the plantation who had
made good, The fact that Knight owned
a plantation himself ".. .and was reputed
to be a far harder taskmaster than most
white employers made little difference"
to his followers.
Knight saw Mt. Pel6e's ash, thunder,
and smoke as victory signs, for the
volcano's awakening would bring Radical
Party voters from the countryside to the
apparent safety of St. Pierre. In turn, the
majority of Radical Party voters all being
in one place would permit him a greater
chance of cementing the crack in his
party caused by dissension over the
nomination of candidates. A unified
party, he felt, would bring certain victory
in the May 1lth elections.
In order to stimulate the deep rooted
superstition of the island's black
population and thereby increase the votes
of his party, Knight encouraged the
writing of political slogans which fed on
growing black-white tensions. Phrases
such as "The mountain will only sleep
when the whites are out of office," and
"Pelee demands all whites leave St. Pierre
or death for us all" were spread
throughout the town.
Nevertheless, desire for political
power was not the only sin which
prevented the evacuation of St. Pierre.
Avarice also pihed a major role in the
tragedy. Andreus Hurard, the editor of
the newspaper in St. Pierre, in return for
the governor's favors, agreed to give total
support to the Progressive Party's
position. When this position included the
denial of Mt. Pelee's danger, Hurard
agreed, fearing that unrest and panic
would cause a decline in revenue for the
newspaper and in support for the
Progressive Party.
Mouttet, Knight, and Hurard were
not the only sinners in this Caribbean
Inferno. Many teachers at the Lycee
refused to persuade the families of their
pupils to leave St. Pierre. "Like most in
the town they looked elsewhere for
leadership and decision." Hence, they
remained neutral.
The Catholic Church was also neutral,
just when positive leadership was crucial.
Rather than interfere with the governor,
the Church remained officially silent
regarding the volcano's behavior.
Fernand Clerc stood alone as a
positive force. Wealthiest of the island's
plantation aristocracy and a candidate for
the Progressive Party, he approached the
other leaders to convince them of the
necessity of mass evacuation. He was
turned down not only by Mouttet and
Hurard, but also, by the Action
Committee, by the mayor of St. Pierre,
and by the shopkeepers and businessmen
who felt that an evacuation would reduce
their profits.
The reader might ask how the rest of
the town behaved during this time. It's
hard to believe, considering the havoc all
around, that most of the inhabitants
would have heeded the advice to stay in
St. Pierre. But they did. A combination
of ignorance, faith in the town's
leadership, and lethargy kept them in
their would-be prison.
When the fireball struck that
Thursday, many of the 30,000 inhabitants
were caught in a wasted act of prayer.
Nothing could save them, for it decries on
the entrance to Dante's hell: "Abandon
all hope, ye who enter here." C[


EN LA CALLE ESTABAS: LA VIDA
DENTRO DE UNA INSTITUTION
PARA MENORES. Awilda Palau de
L6pez and Ernesto Ruiz. 135 pp.
Editorial Edil, Rio Piedras, Puerto Rico,
1969, $2.75.

This book is about the Escuela
Industrial de Mayagiiez, a detention
school for delinquent boys.
When studied the reform-school had
340 young male inmates. Its facilities are
divided into small units, each housing a
part of the inmate population. An
administrative office and the director's
residence make up the rest of the
fenced-in, 50-acre compound which
overlooks the sea outside Mayagiiez,
Puerto Rico.
S The institution has personnel
dedicated to custodial, social, medical,
and psychiatric services.
Among the topics discussed in the
book are the problems of the participant
observer in an anti-social subculture,
inmates' problems in adjusting to the
institution and its tensions (such as the
pressure to become homosexual), the
,problems of the institution which, instead
of reforming the delinquents,
inadvertently appears to reinforce
anti-social values.
"En la calle estabas" is a phrase
thrown at the juvenile delinquent by the
custodians of the. school when the
delinquents complain that something is
bothering them and that they feel
"asfxiado." It's a simple way ro tell the
'delinquent "to go to hll." It
demonstrates how the custodian's image
of the delinquent differs from the Law of
Minors, which emphi.sizes special
treatment and rehabilitation via a host of
social and psychological service.
The institution has changed character
each time a new law has been enacted (in
1905, 1945, and 1955). The last law is
considered to be a piece of "advanced"
social legislation. As the book clearly'
indicates, the law has an incompatible
"other side" that stresses, not
rehabilitation, but custody, i.e., not
getting them back to society, but keeping
them off the streets.
This duality in the law manifests itself
in practice. The custodial personnel have
markedly different attitudes than do the
personnel dedicated to treating the
inmates.
The inmate is subject .to these
conflicting attitudes at a crucial period.
Most staff-inmate contact is with the
custodial personnel; when sporadic
treatment is given, it is usually offered
away from the daily context of the
housing units which provide the normal
ambience.
Though custodial personnel come
from the same social class as the inmates
(and therefore presumably can
communicate easily with them) they do
not provide the expected link between
the inmates and the professionals and
administrators. Instead, the custodians do
everything possible to disidentify with
them. A frequent complaint is that "you
can't confide in the inmates, that
"they're a bunch of bandits and killers."
When Ernesto Ruiz, the participant
observer in the study, asked one of the
boys about the social workers, he was
told that even though the social workers
"felt sorry" for the boys they were
ineffective, since they couldn't get them
out of there, or better their condition.
Definitions ultimately turned on
being in or out of the institution, not on
rehabilitation.


by Celia F. de Cintr6n-.
Participant observation of such a
situation is incredibly difficult. The camp
is divided into two groups: delinquents
versus personnel There was no middle
group with which he could link up, and
yet maintain his neutrality. The five
weeks of observation were not sufficient
to build up "neutral" support;
consequently, Ruiz's near objective
approach, in the face of no social support
during the period of observation, is the
more to be commended.
When Ruiz entered the institution he
was greeted by the inmates with
suspicion. Some took him to be a guard,
only a more dangerous one. Others took
him to be a treasury department agent, a
"renta." He returned their suspicion
calmly, with humor and sarcasm: when
they called him' "Renta he called the
accuser, "Rentita." His rapport was so
successful that by the end of the
observation inmates freely volunteered
the information he was recording.
By the end of the study many
considered him a "colega ," a close
friend. Group cohesion substitutes for the
primary relations they would normally
have on the outside. The cohesion allows
them an emotional defense against living
under the prison-like conditions of the
institution, and 'also provides the basis to
strengthen precisely those anti-social
values that rehabilitation treatment is
supposed to eliminate,
Newcomers to the institution are
immediately given nicknames. general,
related to their geographical origin. Lre-.
however, this nickname is changed to-
one associated with some sort of physical
characteristic .having "obscene"
connotations. They are taken in by the
group in various stages: passing from
suspicious stranger to semi-"colega" or
"coleguita," to full-"colega" or close
friend. This last stage implies
brotherhood between the members, a
stage of complete confidence: "He's like
my brother."
When a young delinquent arrives at
the Industrial School he is presented by
those already there with the dilemma of
either becoming the active partner of a
homosexual relationship or having the
passive role assigned to him, of becoming


Street Reform


Drawing of Pablo Neruda by Seymour Leichman from 'Pablo Neruda:
a New Decade Poems 1958-1967. Translated by Ben Belitt and Alastair
Reid. Grove ess,1969. $8.50.



Dawing of Pablo Neruda by Seymour Leichman from 'Pablo Neruda:
a New Decade. Poems 1958 1967. Translated by Ben Belitt and Alastair
Reid. Grove Press, 1969. $8.50.


a lowly "cabrito."
The study indicates that while the
"cabrito" role does not persist in outside
life, the role of active homosexuality
does. As one inmate related "a lion or
shark is harmless until he tastes human
meat, but when he does he's always
looking for it."
The discipline of the institution is
rough. The day starts at 6:30 when the
guards prod the inmates awake. They
must make their beds before breakfast
and a group of them is assigned to wash
the floors. Breakfast must be eaten
without talk or laughter. A violation of
this rule brings sanction, sometimes,
depending upon the guard and his mood,
subjection to the "ley de la caoba," to
being clubbed. After breakfast and
cleanup there is a considerable amount of
free time spent joking, killing time, and
pushing each other around.
The authors conclude that the stay in
the institution, rather than create moral
controls which allow the young
delinquent to accept the norms of the
society, reinforces the values associated
with delinquency and lowers the boys'
sense of personal value and self-esteem.
Brotherly cohesion functions. as a
counter-culture to transmit anti-social
values: hate for the guards, dislike for
those delinquents who cooperate with the
administration (and gain the labels
"chota," or squealer, or even worse
"cogepreso," one who sells himself to the
administration and is allowed to exercise
violent "punishment"-against his fellow
inmates); ridicule, for the common people
who make up society; admiration for the
aggressive "jodones" (the ball breakers)
who "don't give a damn about anything."
The practice of tattooing, common in
the reform school, is an act of defiance.
The boys hope that when they leave the
institution the tattoo will make them
feared b'. others, since being tattooed has
taKen on the significance that its bearer
w.; once in jail.
The tattoo symbolizes their
acceptance of the delinquent
counter-culture. The boys understand
that the tattoo will cause them problems
when they return to regular life, impeding
them from getting jobs, or from studying.
They are too pessimistic about their
possibilities of rehabilitation to care.
They take society's negative image, of
them as their own.
At the end of the book the authors
offer a series of recommendations for the
total revision of the island's wayward
youth reform programs. They are sensible
and pertinent, and offer the possibility, if
adopted, of bettering the institutional
climate of the island. 0







CAIBBEAN EVI


Winter, 1969


Human


Poems


by Cesar Vallejo

A Bilingual Edition
Translated by Clayton Eshleman
'He is the essential poet of
the modem city, the infinitely
charitable man, himself in need
of charity, "who can summon up
Dante and Chaplin as alternative
selves in the same line.'
S-N.Y. Times Book Review
$8.50 hardbound
$2.95 paperbound
Grove Press




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ORBITA DE JOSE Z.
Tallet. Colecci6n Orbita,
1969. Poems by one
talked-about writers.


TALLET. Jos6 Z.
UNEAC, Havana,
of Cuba's most


ORDEN DEL DIA. Winston Orrillo.
Editorial Lasada, Buenos Aires, 1968. The
28-year-old author was chosen Peru's
outstanding young poet in 1965.
POESIAS. Manuel Zeno Gandia. Ed. by
Margarita Gard6n Franceschi. 252 pp. Editorial


Recent


Books

Fiction
BOMARZO. Manuel Mujica-Lainez. Tr. by
Gregory Rabassa. 573 pp. Simon &'Schuster,
1969. $10. A massive, dazzling Italian
Renaissance novel by one of Argentina's leading
authors, who has written 17 books and
translated' Shakespeare and Moliere into
Spanish. His first book published in the United
States.

COMO UN ARBQL ROJO. Fernando
Alegria. Editora Santiago, Chile, 1968. A
biographical novel about one of Chile's labor
union pioneers.

CONVERSATION EN LA CATHEDRAL.
Mario Vargas Llosa. Editorial Seix Barral,
Barcelona, 1969. The newest novel by Peru's
prominent young writer.

DESNUDO EN EL TEJADO. Antonio
Skarmeta. Casa de las Americas' prize-winning
short story volume for 1969. Havana, 1969. By
a young Chilean writer; two of his stories take
place in his homeland, the others in New
York.

EL FRANCOTIRADOR. Pedro Juan Soto.
297 pp. Editorial Joaquin Mortiz, Mexico City,
1969. The third novel by the Puerto Rican
writer, this one-taking place in Puerto Rico an;
Cuba-dealing with an exiled Cuban
writer-university professor. A translated
excerpt appeared in the last issue of Caribbean
Review.

LA NOVELA EN AMERICA LATINA.
Garcia Marquez, Vargas Llosa. 58 pp. Lib.
Mejia Baca, Lima, Peri, 1968. $1.50

LOS FUNDADORES DEL ALBA. Renato
Prada Oropeza. Casa de las Americas'
prize-winning novel for 1969. Havana, 1969. A
novel about revolution by a young Bolivian
writer.

MARCORE. Antonio Olava Pereira. Tr.
Alfred Hower and John Saunders. 264 pp. U.
Texas, 1970. $6.50. The original Portuguese
version of this widely acclaimed Brazilian novel
is now in its fourth edition. Deals with life in a
small town in the state of Sao Paulo.

NANINA. German Leopoldo Garcia.
Editorial Jorge Alvarez, Buenos Aires, 1968.
Four editions in three months make this one of
Argentina's best-selling novels.

PANQUI EN GUERRERO. Ciro Alegria. 95
pp. Lib. Mejia Baca, Lima, Peru, 1969. $1.80.

THE TRUCE. Mario Benedetti. Tr. by
Benjamin Graham. Harper & Row, 1969.
$5.95. The 18-month diary of a man's journey
to understanding.

TRADICIONES Y CUENTOS
DOMINICANOS. Emilio Rodriguez Demorizi.
277 pp. Lib. Hispaniola, Santo Domingo, 1969.
$2.

Poetry

ANTOLOGIA POETIC
HISPANOAMERICANA ACTUAL, I. Mario
Marcilese. 566 pp. Lib. Platense, La Plata,
Argentina, 1968.
LAS MANOS EN EL FUEGO. Mercedes
Durand and David Escobar Galindo. Ministerio
de Educacion, El Salvador, 1969. A
prize-winning collection of the work of two
young poets from El Salvador.

LOS'NUEVOS. Ed. by L. Ceballos Mesones.
Editorial Universitaria, Lima, Peru, 1967. A
collection of works by Peru's young poets, with
brief biographies and interviews.

MIL AIOS DE POESIA PERUANA. Ed. by
Sebastian Salazar Bondy. Populibros peruanos,
Lima, Peru, 1968. A collection of Peruvian
poetry reaching deep into the past and
including recent writers such as Antonio
Cisneros, C6sar Calvo and Javier Heraud.


EL CRUCE SOBRE EL NIAGARA. Alonso
Alegria. Casa de las Americas' prize-winning
play for 1969. Havana, 1969.
Art-Music

INSTRUMENTS MUSICALS
PRECORTESIANOS. SamuelMarti. Institute
Nacional de Antropologia e Historia, Mexico,
1968 (second edition). Writings and photos on
the musical instruments used in Mexico before
the arrival of the Spanish consquistadores.

LA ARTESANIA DEL SUR DEL PERU.
Robert P. Ebersole. 161 pp. Inst.
Indigenista, Mexico City, 1968.

MUSIC TRADITIONAL DOMINICANA.
Julio Alberto Hernindez. 204 pp. Lib.
Hispaniola, Santo Domingo, 1969. $3..

NEW DIRECTIONS IN LATIN
AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE. Francisco
Bullrich. 128 pp. George Braziller, 1969. $5.95.
Includes an highly detailed analysis of Brasilia.

Biography

LIVING POOR: A PEACE CORPS
CHRONICLE. Moritz Thompson. 314 pp. U.
Washington, 1969. $6.95. A middle-class
American pig farmer describes four years in
rural Ecuador. Well-written, with humor and
compassion.

BOLIVAR. Salvador de Madariaga. 711 pp.
Schocken 1969. Paper, $4.50. A new paperback
edition of the monumental biography by a
noted Spanish scholar.

FIDEL CASTRO: PSIQUIATRIA Y
POLITICA. Luis Conte Agiiero. 372 pp.
Editorial Jus, Mexico, 1968. A biography of
Castro by a former friend and now a bitter
enemy, in exile.

Economics
ALLIANCE FOR PROGRESS: A SOCIAL
INVENTION IN THE MAKING. Harvey S.
Perloff. 288 pp. Johns Hopkins, 1969. $8.50.
The author spent three years as the only North
American member of the Alliance's Council of
Nine.

CAPI TALISM AND
UNDERDEVELOPMENT IN LATIN


Coqui, San Juan, P.R., 1969. The first
published collection of poems by the 19th
century Puerto Rican novelist.
POESIAS DE CLASE. Arturo de Corcuera.
Ediciones de la Rama Florida y la Biblioteca
Universitaria, Lima, Peru, 1968. Winner of the
Cisar Vallejo poetry prize.

POESIA DE CLASE. Arturo de Corcuera.
Ediciones de la Rama Florida y la Biblioteca
Universitaria, Lima, Peru, 1968. Winner of the
C6sar Vallejo poetry grize.

POESIA DOMINICANA. Pedro Rend
Contin Aybar. 224 pp. Lib. Hispaniola, Santo
Domingo, 1969. $2.

RESTAURACION DE LA PALABRA.
Eduardo Gomez. Tercer Mundo, S.A., Bogota,
Chile, 1969.

SUS OBRAS POETICAS: LOS
HERALDOS NEGROS; TRILCE; ESPANA,
APARTA DE MI ESTE CALIZ; POEMAS
HUMANOS. Cesar Vallejo. 342 pp. Lib. Mejia
Baca, Lima, Perti, 1969. $1.50.

TABERNA Y OTROS LUGARES. Roque
Dalton. Casa de las Americas' prize-winning
volume of poetry for 1969. Havana, 1969. By
the noted writer from El Salvador.

WEYMOUTH POEMS. K.C. Lewis. 20 pp.
Letchoworth Press, Barbados, 1968.
Theatre
CATALOG DEL CINE ARGENTINO
1967. 120 pp. Editorial Sudamericana, Buenos
Aires, 1969. $3.30


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AMERICA: HISTORICAL STUDIES OF
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343 pp. Monthly Review, 1969. Paper, $3.45.
A revised, enlarged version of the 1967 edition,
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ECONOMIC AND POLITICAL CHANGE
IN THE LEEWARD AND WINDWARD
ISLANDS. Carleen O'Loughlin. 260 pp. Yale U.
Press, 1969. $8.75.
EMPLEO Y DESEMPLEO EN COLOMBIA.
Dieter Zschock. Tercer Mundo, Bogoti. 1969.

ESCRITOS ECONOMICS. Ernesto (Che)
Guevara. 250 pp. Editorial Eudecor, Buenos
Aires, 1969.

FOOD SUPPLY AND INFLATION IN
LATIN AMERICA. Matthew Edel. 160 pp.
Praeger, 1969. $12.50. Shows how lagging food
production in 5 countries contributed to
inflation, while adequate production limited or
prevented inflation in 2 of 3 other countries.

GROWTH, EQUALITY, AND THE
MEXICAN EXPERIENCE. Morris Singer. 340
pp. U. of Texas, 1969. $8.50. Studies the
relationship between economic development
and democracy.

LA ECONOMIC CHILENA. Josi
Cademartori. Editorial Universitaria, Santiago,
Chile, 1968. A Marxist viewpoint of the
structure of Chile's economy.

LA EXPLOTACION MINERA DEL
COBRE EN PUERTO RICO: FACTORS
LEGALES, ECONOMICS, Y DE
CONTAMINATION. Ed. by Angel G. Hermida
and Luis Morera. 142 pp. Social Research
Center, U. of Puerto Rico. Discusses the legal,
economic and contamination factors involved
in the exploitation of Puerto Rico's copper
deposits, whose recent discovery have caused
widespread public debate. It concluces that the
planned contracts between the government and
the mining companies offer inadequate
economic benefits, and that a serious potential
for contamination exists if the mines are
exploited.

THE ECONOMY OF BRAZIL. Edited by
Howard S. Ellis. 408 pp. U. California, 1969.
$10.50. Essays by Brazilian and American
authors on postwar economic development in
Brazil.

THE INDUSTRIALIZATION OF SAO
PAULO, 1880-1945. Warren Dean. 300 pp. U.
Texas, 1969. $7.50. Examines one aspect of the
leisurely pace of economic development in
Latin America, showing how Sao Paulo's early
industrialists lost much of their market to
foreign branch manufacturers.

THE MOVEMENT TOWARD LATIN
AMERICAN UNITY. Ed. by Ronald Hilton.
584 pp. Praeger, 1969. $12.50. Forty specialists
analyze the possibilities for Latin American
unity from various viewpoints. Based on the
proceedings of the Conference on the
Economic Integration of Latin America,
published in cooperation with the California
Institute of International Studies.

VENEZUELA, LATIFUNDIO Y
SUBDESARROLLO. Ramon Losada Aldana.
283 pp. U. Central, Venezuela.

History

CIVILIAN-MILITARY RELATIONS IN -
BRAZIL, 1889-1898. June E. Hahner. 232 pp.
U. South Carolina, 1969. $7.95. Studies the
peaceful transfer from military to civilian
government after the fall of Brazil's monarchy.

CONFLICT AND CONTINUITY IN
BRAZILIAN SOCIETY. Edited by Henry H.
Keith and S.F. Edwards. 312 pp. U. South
Carolina, 1969. $10. Essays by 17 Brazilianists
at a 1967 seminar on Latin American history at
the U. of South Carolina.

C6NFLICTO Y PAZ CON CHILE
(1898-1903). Gustavo Ferrari. 168 pp.
EUDEBA, Buenos Aires, 1969.

EL SUERO Y LA DISTANCIA: APUNTES
PARA UN-ENSAYO. Luis Ortega. 48 pp.
Ediciones Ganivet, Mexico, 1968. An essay on
the influence of Jose Martif upon Cuban
thinking.

FOUR CENTURIES OF PORTUGUESE
EXPANSION: 1415-1825. C.R. Boxer. 102
pp. U. California Press and Witwatersrand U.
Press, Johannesburg, 1969. Paper, $1.65. A
succint survey of Portuguese colonization in
Africa and the Americas.

GREAT SLAVE NARRATIVES. Selected
and introduced by Arna Bontemps. 331 pp.
Beacon Press, 1969. Cloth, $7.50; paper, $2.95.
Three stirring slave narratives, including one by
"Gustavas Vassa, the African," who spent some
years in the West Indies.







Winter, 1969


CArBBEAN EVIEW


HISTORIC CRONOLOGICA DEL PERU
1879-1919. Lizaro Cosata Villavicencio. 119
pp. Lib. Mejia Baca, Lima, Perd, 1968, $2.40.

HISTORIC CRONOLOGICA DEL PERU
1920-1968. Lizaro Costa .Villavicencio. 208 pp.
Lib. Mejia Baca, Lima, Perd, 1969, $3.
IMMIGRATION AND NATIONALISM:
ARGENTINA AND CHILE, 1890-1914. Carl
Solberg. 204 pp. U. Texas, 1970. $6.50. A
study of minority group immigration and the
rise of nationalism, examining the
contemporary press, journals, literature and
drama.

PERU PREINCAICO. Jos6 Antonio del
Busto. 236 pp. Lib. Mejia Baca, Lima, Peri,
1969. $4.20.

PUERTO RICO: UNA INTERPRETATION
HISTORICO-SOCIAL. Manuel Maldonado
Denis. 255 pp. Siglo Veintiuno Editores,
Mexico, 1969. A contemporary history by a
Puerto Rican social scientist, who advocates
independence for the island.

REVOLUTION MEXICANA. LA LUCHA
ARMADA 1919-1914. M. Ezequiel Coutino.
381 pp. Editorial Porrua, Mexico City.

THE LATIN AMERICANS. Victor Alba.
392 pp. Praeger, 1969. $10. An historical
analysis of Latin America, exploring the goals
of its people, and U.S. relations with its "good
neighbors" to the South. Argues for a different
type of U.S. relations with its "good neighbors"
to the South. Argues for a different type of
U.S. foreign aid.

THE MAYA CHONTAL INDIANS OF
ACALAN-TIXCHEL. Frances V. Scholes and
Ralph L. Roys. 565 pp.' U. Oklahama, 1969.
$9.50. A contribution to the history and
ethnography of the Yucatan Peninsula.
Reproduces the Maya Chontal text in facsimile.

THE SPANISH AMERICAN WAR: A
COMPACT HISTORY. Allan Kellers.
Hawthorn, $6.95. A condensed, well-written
account.

THE UNITED STATES AND HUERTA.
Kenneth J. Grieb. 233 pp. U. Nebraska, 1969.
$7.95. A new study of the Mexican Revolution,
centering on the confrontation between
Woodrow Wilson and Victoriano Huerta.
Described as showing "the pitfalls of a (U.S.)
diplomacy based on moralism."

THE U.S. VIRGIN ISLANDS AND THE
EASTERN CARIBBEAN. Darwin Crcque. 266
pp. Whitmore Publishing. Phdadelphia. 1968.
$4.95.

THE WORLD THE SLAVEHOLDERS
MADE. Eugene D. Genovese. 274 pp.
Pantheon, 1969. $5.95. Two long essays on
slavery, which touch upon the West Indies.\

TIJERINA AND THE COURTHOUSE
RAID. Peter Nabokov. U. New Mexico, 1969.
$6.95. The true story of Beies Tijerina, a
spokesman for New Mexico's Spanish and
Indian people, who claimed 600,000 acres of
New Mexican land in 1967.
Literature
AN INTRODUCTION TO
SPANISH-AM ERICAN LITERATURE. Jean
Franco. 390 pp. Cambridge U. Press, 1969.
$9.50. A survey ranging from colonial times to
the present. Quotations are in Spanish, with
translations at the foot of each page. Provides a
reading list for future study.

MANUEL ZENO GANDIA: VIDA Y
POESIA. Margarita Gard6n Franceschi. 171 pp.
Editorial Coqui, San Juan, P.R., 1969. A study
of Puerto Rico's 19th century novelist.

OBRAS EN PROSA DE EDGAR ALLAN
POE. Tr. with notes by Julio Cortizar. Vol. I,
913 pp. Vol II, 839 pp. U. of Puerto Rico
(second edition, 1969). $5. A translation and
analysis of Poe's stories and essays by the noted
Argentine writer.

S THE AMERICAS LOOK AT EACH
OTHER. Jose A. Balseiro. Tr. by Muna Mufioz
Lee. U. Miami, 1969. $7.95. Essays on the
culture and life of the Americas by a Puerto
Rican scholar. Discusses Bolivar, Darfo, de
Hostos, Mufioz Rivera, Gabriela Mistral,
Villa-Lobos.
Politics

CAMBIO POLITICO EN VENEZUELA.
Frank Bonilla, Silva Michelena. 540 pp. U.
Central, Venezuela, 1969.

CAMILO TORRES. Camilo Torres\
Restrepo. Sondeos #5, Centro Inter-cultural de
Documentaci6n, Mexico, 1967. A collection of
Padre Torres' writings from 1956-66.

FIDEL CASTRO AVEC SES TEXTES
ESSENTIELS. Jean-Jacques Nattiez. Destins
politiques, Editions Seghers, Paris, 1968. Based


on a visit to Cuba in 1966, the author has
compiled a small biography of the Cuban
revolution, including speech texts by Castro,
photos, a 1951-68 chronology, and a
bibliography.

GUERRILLAS IN LATIN AMERICA: THE
TECHNIQUE OF THE COUNTER-STATE.
Luis Mercier Vega. Tr. by Daniel Weissbort. 246
pp. Praeger, 1969. $6.50. Analyzes the
susceptibility to overthrow of seven Latin
American nations.

HAITI: RADIOGRAFIA DE UNA
DICTADURA. Pierre-Charles Gerard. Editorial
Nuestro Tiempo, Mexico, 1969. An extensive
study of contemporary Haiti.

IZQUIERDA Y DERECHA EN
LATINOAMERICA. Mario Monteforte Toledo,
Francisco Villagrin Kramer. 136 pp. Editorial
Pleamar, Buenos Aires, 1968.

LATIN AMERICA: INTERNAL
CONFLICT AND INTERNATIONAL PEACE.
Peter Calvert. 231 pp. St. Martin's Press, 1969.


$6.50. As part of a series called "the making of
the 20th Century," an Irish specialist in Latin
America offers a succinct political history,
tracing internal and external forces working
within each country.

PARTIDOS Y POWDER EN LA
ARGENTINA MODERN (1930-1946).
Alberto Ciria. 384 pp. Editorial Jorge Alvarez,
Buenos Aires, 1969.
PERU 1965: APUNTES SOBRE UNA
EXPERIENCIA GUERRILLERA. Hector
Bejar. Casa de las Americas' prize-winning
essay for 1969. Havana, 1969. An analysis of
guerrilla warfare in Peru, written from a jail
cell
POLITICS AND SOCIAL FORCES IN
CHILEAN DEVELOPMENT. James Petras. 355
pp. U. California, 1969. $8.50.

READINGS IN GOVERNMENT AND
POLITICS OF THE WEST INDIES. Compiled
by A.W. Singham, E.S. Jones, D. Gordon, C.
Levy and T.G. Munroe. 518 pp. Instant Letter
Service Co., Kingston, Jamaica, 1968.


Books on Latin American


History and Culture

Original Publication Dates in Parentheses


Alexander, Hartley B., LATIN
AMERICAN MYTHOLOGY(Vol. X of
Mythology of all Races). The highly
developed religions of the ancient Aztecs,
Central Americans and Peruviafs are in
striking 'contrast to the extremely
primitive myths of the South American
Indians generally. (1932) Illus. $15.00

Gallahan, James Morton, AMERICAN
FOREIGN POLICY IN MEXICAN
RELATIONS. General historical review
of the continuous problems arising
between the U.S. and Mexico form the
latter part of the 18th century to 1931.
(1932) $12.50

Davis, Harold E., MAKERS OF
DEMOCRACY IN LATIN AMERICA.
Twenty four short biographies of
revolutionaries, statesmen, politicos and
outstanding Latin American, wsho gave
form and direction to Latin American
democracy. (1945) 4.50.
Da is, Harold E.. LATIN AMERICAN
LEADERS. Continuing his studies of
influential Latin Americans, Mr. Davis'
volume is devoted to sixteen people who
helped to shape the course of politics,
peace and literature. (1949) $5.00

Graham, R.M. Cunninghame, THE
CONQUEST OF NEW GRANADA: Being
the Life of Gonzalo Jimenez de Quesada.
(1922) $6.50

Jane, L.C., LIBERTY AND.
DESPOTISM IN SPANISH AMERICA.
Originally published in the late 1920's,
this study of the growth of dictatorships
in Latin America foresaw the current
conflicts which have taken place in Latin
America. (1929) $6.00

Merriman, Roger Bigelow, THE RISE
OF THE SPANISH EMPIRE IN THE
OLD WORLD AND IN THE NEW. The
authoritative history in the English
language. (1918) 4 Vols. $35.00

Mitre, Bartoloin6, THE-
EMANCIPATION OF SOUTH
AMERICA. 'Intro. by A. Curtis Wilgus,
Ed. and Trans. by William Pilling. South
America's most brilliant historian's
account of their fight for freedom.
(1893) $15.00

Moses, Bernard, THE
ESTABLISHMENT OF SPANISH RULE
IN AMERICA. The events and important
features of Spain's colonial organization
and policy. (1898) $6.50

Moses, Bernard, SOUTH AMERICA
ON THE EVE OF EMANCIPATION.
Significant phases of colonial history and
social organization in the last part of the
18th century, particularly in the southern
half of South America. (1908) $6.50

Moses, Bernard, SPAIN'S
DECLINING POWER IN SOUTH
AMERICA 1730-1806. The reasons and
conditions which led to the fall of the
Spanish Empire. (1919) $8.50

Moses, Bernard, THE SPANISH
DEPENDENCIES IN SOUTH AMERICA.
Chronicles the period of decline from
1730 to the successful struggle for
independence. (1914) 2 Volumes $15.00


Oliveira Martins, J.P. De, THE
HISTORY OF IBERIAN
CIVILIZATION. Trans. by Aubrey F.G.
Bell. The fervent and stimulating
interpretation of Iberian history by the
famous Portuguese historian. (1929)
$8.50

Priestley, H.I., THE MEXICAN
NATION: A History. One of the best one
volume histories of Mexico in English.
(1926) $12.50

Robertson, William S., THE LIFE OF
MIRANDA. The biography of the famous
Venezuelan patriot, Francisco de
Miranda, who fought for freedom on
three continents. Maps and illustrations.
(1929) 2 Volumes $17.50

Rojas. Ricardo, SAN MARTIN:
KNIGHT OF THE ANDES. Trans. by
Herschel Brckell and Carlos Videla. A
tull length biograph$ of a great Latin
American hero swrltten by a distinguished
Argentinian scholar. 11945) 17.50

Steward, Julian H. (ed), HANDBOOK
OF SOUTH AMERICAN INDIANS. The
ambitious undertaking of the Bureau of
American Ethnology; a comprehensive
summary of existing knowledge of the
Indians of South America. Profusely
illustrated, (1957) 7 Volumes $87.50


INDIVIDUAL VOLUMES

THE MARGINAL TRIBES (Vol. I)
The archeology and ethnology of the
primitive hunting and gathering tribes of
eastern Brazil, the Gran Chaco, the
Pampas, Southern Chile and Tierra-del
Fuego. (1957) $15.00

THE ANDEAN CIVILIZATIONS
(Vol. II) The high culture, farming
peoples of the Andean High-Lands and
the Pacific Coast from Colombia to
central Chile. (1957) $20.00

THE TROPICAL FOREST TRIBES
(Vol III). The people, horticulturalists,
hunters and gatherers of the tropical
jungles, savannas and the sub-tropical
areas of the Amazon Basin, Matto Grosso,
Paraguay and the Brazilian coast (1957)
$18.00
THE CIRCUM-CARIBBEAN
TRIBES (Vol. IV) The tribes of Central
America, lowland Colombia and
Venezuela,' and the Antilles. (1957)
$15.00

THE COMPARATIVE
ANTHROPOLOGY OF SOUTH
AMERICAN INDIANS (Vol V)
Geography, languages, physical
anthropology, population and various
aspects of culture treated distributionally
and comparatively. (1957)'$17.00

PHYSICAL ANTHROPOLOGY,
LINGUISTICS AND CULTURAL
GEOGRAPHY OF SOUTH AMERICAN


59 Fourth Avenue-


THE OAS IN TRANSITION. Margaret Ball.
Duke University. $19.50. A detailed study of
the Organization of American States..

THE TRANSFORMATION OF
POLITICAL CULTURE IN CUBA. Richard R.
Fagen. 271 pp. Stanford, 1969. $8.50.
Analyzes in detail three of the Castro regime's
most important programs: the literacy
campaign of 1961, the Schools of
Revolutionary Instruction, and the Committees
for Defense of the Revolution. Appendixes
include lengthy translated portions of Castro
speeches dealing with the three programs. The
author visited Cuba in 1966 and 1968.
Reference
A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF UNITED
STATES-LATIN AMERICAN RELATIONS
SINCE 1810. Compiled and edited by David F.
Trask, Michael C. Meyer and Roger F. Trask. U.
Nebraska, 1969. $14.95. A selected list of
eleven thousand published references in various
languages.

A GUIDE FOR THE STUDY OF


INDIANS (Vol. VI).. Ancient man in
South America, the physical
anthropology of South American Indians,
their languages, geography and plant and
animal reources. (1957) $17.00

THE INDEX (Vol. VII). The index to
all six volumes. (1957) $5.00

Tax, Sol (ed.), ACCULTURATION
IN THE AMERICAS. Selected papers of
the XXIXth International Congress of
Americanists. Anthropological analysis of
the problems of mixtures of the cultures
of Europe, Africa and aboriginal America.
Intro. by Melville Herskovits. (1952)
Illus. $12.50.

Tax, Sol (Ed.), THE
CIVILIZATIONS OF ANCIENT
AMERICA. Selected Papers of the
'XXIXth International Congress of
Americanists. ,The many aspects of the
archaeology of Mexico, Central America
and western South America. The
pre-Columbian cultures of these areas
are discussed. Intro. by Wendell C.
Bennett. (1952) Illus. $12.50

Tax, Sol, et al., HERITAGE OF
CONQUEST: The ethnology of Middle
America. By Sol Tax and members of the
Viking Fund Seminar on Middle
Amencan Ethnology. About the peoples
today of Mexico and Central America,
mostly about the regions where the
Toltecs, Aztecs and Mayas once built
their temples and spread their power.
Who these people are and what has
happenedcto the area since the Conquest.
(1952) $7.50

Tax, Sol (ed.) INDIAN TRIBES OF
ABORIGINAL AMERICA. Selected
Papers of the XXIXth International
Congress of Americanists. Presents some
of the answers on the accumulation of
anthropological, archaeological and
linguistic evidence on the mystery of who
the Indians of the Americas were, and
how their wide range of culture from
savagery to civilization'can be explained.
(1952) Illus. $15.00

Werstein, Irving, 1898: THE STORY
OF THE SPANISH AMERICAN WAR
AND THE PHILIPPINE
INSURRECTION TOLD WITH
PICTURES. A.Continuation of military
histories by this reputable writer. 8 1/2" x
11", over 20,000 words, 300 illustrations.
(A Cooper Square Original). 1966.
Paperback, $2.50, Clothbound $4.50.

Wilgus, A. Curtis, HISTORICAL
ATLAS OF LATIN AMERICA: Political,
Geographic, Economic, Cultural This
revised and enlarged edition of LATIN
AMERICA IN MAPS (original title) is
well-balanced with text and maps.
(1943) Updated to 1967. $6.95

Wilgus, A. Curtis, HISTORIES AND
HISTORIANS OF HISPANIC AMERICA.
The only bibliography on the subject in
the English Language. It lists the
outstanding writers and works relating to
Latin America in various fields of history
and culture from the beginnings of the
16th century up to the 20th century.
Books on the subject in other major
languages ate also examined. (1942)
$6.50


S New York, N. Y. 10003


Cooper Square Publishers, Inc.







CAIBBEAN rCVEW


Winter, 1969


The Growth of the Modem West Indies $12.50 cloth
by Gordon K. Lewis
The Age of Imperialism by Harry Magdoff 6.00 cloth
1.95 paper
Pan-Americanism from Monroe to the Present 2.95 paper
by AlonsoAguilar
Capitalism and Underdevelopment in Latin America 7.50 cloth
by Andre Gunder Frank 3.45 paper
Guatemala: Occupied Country by Eduardo Galeano 5.95 cloth
2.25 paper
Dollar Diplomacy by Scott Nearing & Joseph Freeman 3.95 paper
Regis Debray and the Latin American Revolution 5.00 cloth
essays edited by Leo Huberman & Paul M. Sweezy 1.95 paper
Revolution in the Revolution? Armed Struggle and
Political Struggle in Latin America by Rigis Debray 4.00 cloth
The Ordeal of British Guiana by Philip Reno 3.25 paper
The Pillage of the Third World by Pierre Jalie 6.00 cloth
Whither Latin America? by Carlos Fuentes & others 1.75 paper



ON CUBA
Socialism in Cuba by Leo Huberman & Paul M. Sweezy 5.95 cloth
The Economic Transformation of Cuba 7.95 cloth
by Edward BoOrstein 3.45 paper
Guerrilla Warfare by Ernesto Che Guevara 4.50 cloth
Cuba: Anatomy of a Revolution
by Leo Huberman & Paul M. Sweezy 2.95 paper
The United States, Castro & Cuba 5.00 cloth
by William Appleman Williams.
The Second Revolution in Cuba by J. P. Morray 3.25 cloth


Order directly from: Monthly Review Press
Department CR
116 W. 14th Street.
New York, New York 10011


CARIBBEAN STUDIES

VoL 10 APRIL 1970 No. 1

I. Articles
KENNETH J. GRIEB, American Involvement in the Rise of Jorge Ubico
PAUL G. SINGH, Problems of Institutional Transplantation: The
Case of the Commonwealth Caribbean Local Government System.

ROBERT G. WEISBORD, British West Indian Reaction to the
Italian-Ethiopian War: An Episode in Pan-Africanism.

II. Research Commentary
G.R. COULTHARD, Negritude, Reality and Mystification.
III. Research Survey
WILFRED L. DAVID, Public Savings and Investment in the
Caribbean; A study of Selected Caribbean Countries
IV. Research Note
EVA E.A. ABRAHAM VAN DER MARK, Differences in -the
Upbringing of Boys and Girls in Curacao, Correlated with Differences
in the Degree of Neurotic Instability.
V. Documents
THOMAS G. MATHEWS, Memorial Autobiogrifico de Bernardo O'Brian
VI. Book Reviews
NORMAN A. BAILEY, Latin America in World Politics, reviewed by
K.J. Grieb
ETTIENNE BOIS, Les Amerindins de la Haute Guyana Frangaise,
reviewed by J. Huraud
ALBERT L. GASTMANN, The Politics of Surinam and the
Netherlands Antilles, reviewed by F.E.M. Mitrasing (Suriman)
reviewed by R.F. Pieternella (Netherlands Antilles)
GERMAN DE GRANDA, Transculturacibn e Interferencia
Linguistica en el Puerto Rico Contemporineo (1898-1968),
reviewed by Nilita Vient6s Gast6n
VIRGINIA GUTIERREZ DE PINEDA, Familia y Cultura en
Colombia, VoL II: Tipologias, Funciones y Dincsmica de la Familia,
reviewed by J.J. Parsons
HENRY WELLS, The Modernization of Puerto Rico, reviewed by
T.G. Mathews

Single issues of the journal may be purchased for $1.25 each. The annual
subscription is $4.00. Checks or drafts should be issued in the name of the
Treasurer of the University of Puerto Rico, c/o The Institute of Caribbean
Studies. Requests for back issues of the journal should be addressed to the
Johnson Reprint Corporation, 111 Fifth Avenue, New York City, New York.


Illustration by Jorge Varlotta, from the
July-September 1969 issue of the Arg-
entine literary quarterly 'El Lagrimal
Trifurca.'
CULTURE IN CENTRAL AMERICA
(HUMANITIES AND SOCIAL SCIENCES).
Mario Rodriguez and Vincent C. Peloso. 88 pp.
Pan American Union, Washington, 1968.
Number V in the Basic Bibliography series.

LATIN AMERICA: BOOKS. Compiled by
Robert V. Farrell y John F. Hohenstein. An
annotated bibliography of books and other
publications, available free from the Center for
Inter-American Relations, 680 Park Avenue,
NYC, 10021.

REVOLUTIONARY CUBA: A
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL GUIDE, 1967. Fermin
Peraza. 244 pp. U. Miami, 1969. The 31st
annual bibliographical guide printed by the
author, who died this year. Contains 911
references plus an analytical index.

Social Sciences
A DEATH IN THE SANCHEZ FAMILY.
Oscar Lewis. 119 pp. Random House, 1969.
$4.95. A short and poigna-t account of how
the poor die; a fine postscript to Lewis' earlier
"The Children of Sanchez."

COMUNIDADES JUDIAS DE
LATIONAMERICA. Editorial Candelabro,
Buenos Aires, 1968. $3.50.

CULTURE CHANGE AND SHIFTING
POPULATIONS IN CENTRAL NORTHERN
MEXICO Willurm B. Griffin. 192 pp. Arizona
U 196. ib Studies cultural contacts between
raiding aboriginal Indian groups and Spanish
colonists, and conflicting concepts of
ownership and property.

DELINQUENCY IN THREE CULTURES.
Carl M. Rosenquist and Edwin I. Megargee. 554
pp. U. Texas, 1969. $10. A sociologist and
psychologist compare the differences between
delinquents and nondelinquents in three
cultural groups: Anglo-Americans and
Mexican-Americans in the U.S. 'and Mexican
nationals in Mexico.

EDUCATION AND DEVELOPMENT IN
LATIN AMERICA. Laurence Gale. 178 pp.
Praeger, 1969. $5. Illustrates disparities in
educational opportunities between social
classes, racial groups and rural and urban
dwellers. Compares Colombia and Guyana.

EN LA CALLE ESTABAS. Awilda Palau de
L6pez and Ernesto Ruiz Ortiz. 133 pp.
Editorial Edil, Rio Piedras, P.R., .1969. Studies
life in the boy's correctional institution in
Mayagiiez, Puerto Rico.

ETIOLOGIA DE LA DELINCUENCIA EN
COLOMBIA. Alfonso Meluk. Tercer Mundo,
Bogota, 1969.

GEOGRAFIA HUMANA DEL PERU.
Efrain Orbegozo Rodriguez. 142 pp. Editorial
Juridica, Santiago de Chile, 1968. $1.80.

HANDBOOK OF MIDDLE AMERICAN
INDIANS. VOLUME 9: PHYSICAL
ANTHROPOLOGY. Ed. by T. Dale Stewart.
600 pp. U. Texas, 1970. $15. This volume in
the projected 14-volume study traces physical
anthropology in Mexico and Central America,
constituting a massive reference work on the
human biology-of the area.

INTELECTUALES Y DESARROLLO EN
AMERICA LATINA. Fernando Uricochea.
CEAL, Buenos Aires, 1969.

LA IGLESIA: FACTOR DE PODER EN
LA ARGENTINA. Mercedes de Gandolfo. 208
pp. El Siglo Ilustrado, Montevideo, 1969. $3.

LA RELIGION EN URUGUAY. Carlos M.
Rama. 36 pp. El Siglo Ilustrado, Montevideo,
1969. 50 cents.

LA TELEVISION VENEZOLANA Y LA
FORMACION DE ESTEREOTIPOS EN EL
NIRIO. Eduardo Santoro. 327 pp. U. Central,
Venezuela, 1969.


II


LOS MAPAS DE CUAUHTINCHAN Y LA
HISTORIC TOLTECA-CHICHIMECA. Bente
Bittman Simons. 96 pp. INAH, Mexico City,
1969.

PRIMER CICLO DE CONFERENCIAS
PUBLICAS SOBRE TEMAS DE
INVESTIGATION SOCIAL. 192 pp. Social
Research Center, U. Puerto Rico, 1969. Nine
essays dealing with different research areas in
Puerto Rico: voting habits, parole, incest,
juvenile delinquency and school drop-outs,
multi-problem poor families, penal reform,
spiritism, attitudes among students, attitudes
towards public school teachers.
PROBLEMS UNIVERSITAIRES DES
ANTILLES-GUYANE FRANCHISES. 112 pp.
no. 18, 4th trimester issue of 1969 of Les
Cahiers du Cerag, Centre D'etudes Regionales
Antilles-Guyane. Fort-de-France,
Martinique.

RESEARCH AND RESOURCES OF
HAITI. Ed. by Richard P. Schaedel. 624 pp.
Research Institute for the Study of Man, New
York, 1969. Paper, $5.75. Papers given at a
November 1967 conference in New York,
grouped under-four headings: demography and
human resources; language and literacy;
nutrition, physical and mental health; and
Haitian institutions.

SOCIAL JUSTICE AND THE LATIN
CHURCHES. Tr. by Jorge Lara-Braud. 137 pp.
John Knox Press, 1969. Paper, $2.95. Papers of
the 1966 Conference on Church and Society in
Latin America, held in El Tabo, Chile.

SOCIETY AND EDUCATION IN BRAZIL.
Robert J. Havighurst and J. Roberto Moreira.
263 pp. U. Pittsburgh, 1969. Paper, $2.50.
Studies social forces in "the coming
power-center of economic and political affairs
in South America." Half the book is devoted to
the 1945-65 period.

SOCIOLOGIA URUGUAYA. Carlos M.
Rama. 140 pp. El Siglo Ilustrado, Montevideo,
1969. $2.

TRADITION AND GROWTH: A STUDY
OF FOUR MEXICAN VILLAGES. Manuel
Avila. 219 pp. U. Chicago, 1969. $10.75.
Fieldwork done in the early 1960's shows the
"unique dynamism and potential for
growth..traceable...to the special qualities,
characteristics, and habits ofthe villagers."

U R B AN P L-A N N I N G i:N
PRE-COLUMBIAN AMERICA. Jorge Hardoy.
127 pp. George Braztll-r, 1969. 55 5S.
Describes many regional capitals in which there
clearly existed a dec iion- m kirg apparatus for
determining and executing basic city layout.

VENEZUELA, LATIFUNDIO Y
SUBDESARROLLO. Ram6n Losada Aldana.
Universidad Central de Venezuela, Caracas,
1969. A study of agrarian problems in
Venezuela.

VESTIGIOS ATLANTES Y EGIPCIOS EN
EL PERU. Karola Seibert. 72 pp. Libreria
Mejia Baca, Lima, Peru, 1969. $1.50.

Travel-Geography

BRAZIL. Text by Luis D. Gardel. Rand
McNally, $12.50. A tour of the country with
58 striking color plates.

LURE OF THE CARIBBEAN: VIRGIN
ISLANDS TO TRINIDAD. Donald Stainsby,
with photos by Ted Czolowski. 160 pp. and
270 full-color photos. $14.95. A big coffee
table-sized book, with many attractive photos
and a brief, readable historical account of the
region.

Advertising Rates
Full page(4 cols. x 15"...$100
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1/16 page(1 col.x 3 3/4".....8
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