Caribbean Review

FE VIEW

'99L

Refugee Chess; The Uncertain Futures of CARICOM and the OAS;
The Political Role of the Press in the Caribbean; The Tainos of Hispaniola;
The Rise and Fall of the Maya; Central American Textiles; Garcia MWrquez's
Erotic Fairy Tale.

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Cover
La Vendedora de Frutas by Dominican
artist Juan R Andujar (oil on canvas,
48 x 39 inches). The painting is in the
collection of John De Souza and
Art Associates.

In this issue

3
Crossing Swords
The Third World of the West
By Ricardo Arias Calderdn

4
Refugee Chess
Policy by Default
By Mario A. Rivera

16
The Role of the Press in the
Caribbean
Private Ownership and Public
Responsibility
By Ramesh Deosaran

20
The Tainos of Hispaniola
The Island's First Inhabitants
By Frank Moya Pons

24
A Taino Tale
A Mythological Statement of Social
Order
By Antonio M. Stevens-Arroyo

28
The Rise and Fall of the Maya
Mysteries of an Ancient Civilization
Reviewed by Prudence M. Rice

31
Huipiles, Tzutes and Molas
Context and Coincidence in Central
American Textiles
Reviewed by Laurel Herbenar
Bossen

34
"Si, Abuela..."
Garcia Marquez's Erotic Fairy Tale
A Film Review by Aaron Segal

48
First Impressions

52
Recent Books

7 .e
A Plea to Destigmatize, ....-
Mariel ...
By Siro del Castillo a .

8
The Future of CARICOM
Collective Self-Reliance in Decline?
By Anthony P Gonzales

12
Will the OAS Live To Be 100?
Does It Deserve To?
By Francis X. Gannon

The New

Cuban Presence

in the

Caribbean

edited by Barry B. Levine

July 1983, 274 pages
$26.50 (cloth), $11.50 (paper)

"An extremely valuable and most welcome
addition to the literature on Cuba's interna-
tional relations .... The chapters are well
written, carefully documented and offer vital
Insights Into the International rivalries which
have transformed the Caribbean Basin into
an arena of International conflict."
-Richard Mlllett,
The Air War College

"Indispensable for those wishing to gain In-
sight into the basin's complex political
forces and dynamics." -Edward Gonzalez,
Caribbean Review

"A very thorough piece of work, highly Infor-
mative and analytical." -Frank Virden,
The Times of the Americas

Also of interest

Latin America, Its Problems and
Its Promise
A Multidisciplinary Introduction
edited by Jan Knippers Black
September 1984 ca. 450 pages
$30 (cloth) $14.50 (paper)

Revolution and Counterrevolution in
Central America and the Caribbean
edited by Donald E. Schulz and
Douglas H. Graham
July 1984 ca. 425 pages
$35 (cloth) $14.95 (paper)

For examination copies, write to M. Gilbert, Dept. CMG-5,
Westview Press, giving course title, enrollment, and present
text. Please include $3.50 per book for processing and
postage.
Write for our complete catalog.

AWestview Press
5500 Central Avenue Boulder, Colorado 80301

H~ rvIew

FALL 1984
Editor
Barry B. Levine
Associate Editors
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Mark B. Rosenberg
Managing Editor
June S. Belkin
Assistant Editor
Judith C. Faerron
Book Review Editor
Forrest D. Colburn
Bibliographer
Marian Goslinga
Contributing Editors
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Eneid Routt6 G6mez
Aaron L. Segal
AndrJs Serbin
Olga J. Wagenheim

Vol. XIII, No. 4

Art Director
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Contributing Artists
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Three Dollars

Board of Editors
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Errol Barrow
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Leslie Manigat
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Caribbean Review, a quarterly journal dedicated to the Caribbean, Latin America, and
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2/CARIBBEAN VIEW

*0TV outo \~s

Crossing Swords

The Third World of the West

By Ricardo Arias Calder6n

Latin America is an integral part of the free
West, but like Europe and North America, it
has its own personality. It is the mestizo
West-the Third World of the West.
The West has two frontiers, each present-
ing a challenge of danger and of hope. The
first crosses through Europe; it is the geo-
political frontier which poses the danger of
nuclear war and the hope of bilateral disarma-
ment. The second passes through Latin
America; it is the sociopolitical frontier be-
tween North and South which poses the dan-
ger of ideological guerrilla warfare and the
hope of integral sustained development.
While the two condition themselves mutually,
the challenge emerging on the latter frontier
affects Latin America more directly, immedi-
ately and urgently; how will it be met in the
remaining years of the 1980s?
Consideration of a few demographic facts
makes the scope of the challenge evident.
Between 1950 and 1980, the total population
of Latin America more than doubled. By the
year 2000,45 percent of the inhabitants of the
free West will be Latin Americans. Further-
more, more than half of the Latin American
population will be between the ages of 15 and
64, and the urban population, already repre-
senting 64.4 percent in 1980, will grow at a
yearly rate of about 4 percent. This demo-
graphic reality constitutes a major economic
challenge for any development policy. Latin
American societies will have to satisfy a very
high demand in housing, education and
health services. But above all, they will haveto
provide immensely increased job oppor-
tunities for a large pool of workers who have
many dependents and who, in emigrating
from the rural areas, have left behind the
possibility of subsistence activity. This will
require very high levels of economic growth
under complex conditions: expanded em-
ployment opportunities for unskilled labor
plus the availability of a work force with skills
suitable for the use of capital-intensive
technology.
Thus Latin America, which in recent years
has become increasingly more integrated
into Western markets, finds itself facing an
enormous social and economic challenge
from the depth of its worst crisis in half a
century..Without the cooperation of Europe
and North America, the situation could easily
surpass the threshold of sociopolitical
tolerance.

Three forms of violence have erupted al-
most simultaneously in Latin America re-
cently. The Malvinas war revealed the
existence of colonial remnants or conse-
quences which still represent a potential for
violence. The near war between Argentina
and Chile andthe incidents between Ecuador
and Peru point out the persistence of various
border conflicts capable of generating armed
confrontation. Terrorist and guerrilla insur-
gency in Central America, Peru and Colombia
confirms a recurrent pattern of attempts at
prolonged revolutionary war. Most of the
cases to some degree originated, or continue,
because of social-economic problems which
characterize the disparity between North and
South. Moreover, to the extent to which they
provoke substantial military expenditures on
the part of Latin American nations, and even
worse, disturbances within the correspond-
ing societies, they aggravate these very
problems.
One cannot, nevertheless, deny the im-
pact of East-West polarization on the
unfolding of these cases of violence,
particularly those of terrorist and guerrilla
insurgency. Colonial, border and especially
civil conflicts become opportunities for differ-
ent forms of intervention on the parts of the
rival superpowers. Such conflicts then ac-
quire a new and undeniable geopolitical di-
mension which cannot be overlooked in
dealing with them. But it would be an illu-
sion to believe that these conflicts are
reduced to this dimension. On the contrary,
the original social and economic conditions
remain, and they must be overcome through
the cooperation of all parts of the West.
The present crisis also endangers the pro-
cess of democratization which is occurring
throughout Latin America. It is difficult for
outside observers to imagine the efforts de-
ployed in the interest of keeping the road to
democratization open in Nicaragua, advanc-
ing along that road in El Salvador, opening
the road in Chile and Uruguay, strengthening
it in Argentina and Bolivia, and overcoming
its obstruction in Peru.
It would be a mistake, however, to conceive
of democracy as a simple superstructure
given certain levels of development and se-
curity. This would lead to the justification of
dictatorships and authoritarian regimes as
appropriate to certain transitional stages. De-
mocracy is not a simple result of other factors;

it is an original creation of a people commit-
ted to liberty as a decisive value in the order of
social life. Thus Europe and North America,
as well as Latin American nations, cannot
limitthemselves to economic cooperation for
development and military cooperation for
security. However indispensable in varying
degrees and circumstances, these will fail in
Latin America if not accompanied by political
cooperation for democratization.
The West must promote both democracy
and human rights. Both are indigenous crea-
tions of their respective societies, and yet both
can be promoted by direct international ac-
tion. Democracy is the one political system
built on the basis of respect for human rights
and which guarantees them in principle.
Without promotion of democratization, pro-
motion of human rights turns into mere rhet-
oric meant to assuage the guilty feelings of
those who enjoy them in the face of those
whose rights are violated, or covers a political
tactic meant to undermine a repressive dic-
tatorship by those who seek power in order to
establish as repressive, or an even more re-
pressive, regime. International political coop-
eration in favor of democracy is not a violation
of the principle of nonintervention in the
internal affairs of other states. It is nothing
more than assistance in creating the best
institutional conditions for the effective and
lasting self-determination of a people. Rather
than intervention, it constitutes solidarity.
Latin America appeals to Europe and
North America to cooperate with it in renew-
ing the economic order in terms of interna-
tional social justice. In so doing, they
can enlarge the space for democracy in the
world. D

Crossing Swords is a
regular feature of Carib-
bean Review. The views
expressed herein are
the sole opinion of the
authors. Editorial board
member Ricardo Arias
Calder6n is president of
the Christian Demo-
cratic Party of Panama and president of the
Christian Democratic Organization of America
(ODCA).

CAIBBEAN PEVIEW/3

With his free-lance diplomacy in
Cuba, Jesse Jackson may have
forced the long stagnant American-
Cuban chess contest over immigration from
middle game to end game. That contest
spans Democratic and Republican admin-
istrations, with bureaucrats, legislators,
state and local government leaders, Cuban-
Americans, and now Jackson assuming
roles as players. The issues again at stake
are family reunification, the release to the
United States of political prisoners, the re-
patriation of presumed criminals from the
Mariel sealift, and Washington-Havana di-
alogue; they would be taken up in semi-
secret negotiations between American and
Cuban diplomats in New York just two-and-
a-half weeks after the Jackson trip. While
the Reverend Jackson knew he was trigger-
ing a new phase in the dormant American-
Cuban game, he did not consider the
implications of his move; for in immi-
gration policymaking, customary ideologi-
cal stances and alignments often are con-
founded, and policy tends to be made by
default.
Because of the blurring of interests, the
American-Cuban game may be likened to
chess under utterly mutable rules. Not only
does the game continue as presidential ad-
ministrations come and go, but it also per-
mits a host of different players to come in at
will and advance pieces from either side of
the board. Jackson in effect upset the board
by clambering to Castros side, setting up
conflicts between some Cuban-Americans
and the Republican administration.
Unorthodox diplomacy has long been a
central feature of the anarchic immigration
game. Alexander Haig recalls in his memoir
Caveat that he met "the Cuban Vice Presi-
dent, Carlos Rafael Rodriguez... in Mexico
City, in strictest secrecy and with President
Reagan's approval" 23 November 1981; on
their discussion agenda, but left unresolved,
were Central America, avoidance of a con-
frontation between the US and Cuba, and,

Mario A. Rivera teaches political science at
Barry University in Miami. He was the principal
research analyst of the Cuban-Haitian Task
Force in Washington from mid-1980 through
1981.

4/CAI BBEAN REVIEW

Refugee Chess

Policy by Default

By Mario A. Rivera

in passing, the repatriation of Mariel "un-
desirables." In 1978 a "Committee of 75"
Cuban-Americans responded to Castro's
offer of a dialogue and helped work out
terms for the release to the US of some
3,600 political prisoners. Miami banker Ber-
nardo Benes was tapped to initiate the di-
alogue during a 1977 vacation in Panama,
over a casual lunch with an old friend in
Castro's employ, while other committee
members were courted at occasions such
as UN receptions. Washington has at times
resorted to furtive contacts with the Cu-
bans, and the attainments of the Com-
mittee of 75 were due as much to clan-
destine State Department diplomacy as to
rapprochement among Cubans. A lone
exile and member of the committee, Na-
pole6n Vilaboa, was credited in Washington
and the press as prompting the Mariel sea-
lift by managing to obtain Cuban govern-
ment approval for family retrieval trips in
April 1980. State Department Executive
Secretary Peter Tarnoff met with Castro in
Havana in December 1980 and January
1981 in a futile attempt to obtain an elev-
enth-hour commitment to the repatriation
of Mariel "undesirables." While spectacular,
Jackson's ploy had its precedents.
It was the Mariel sealift that first rendered
Cuban immigration dysfunctional for the
US and upset the previous logic of mutual
interests. Cuban-Americans who partici-
pated in the Mariel sealift served Castro's
interests for the sake of family reunification,
following seven lean years for Cuban immi-
gration. After Castro's unilateral cancel-
lation of the "freedom flights" in 1973,
Washington's determined neglect allowed
severe emigration pressures to build re-
lentlessly in Cuba. For three years the Carter
administration would talk to Castro about
anything but normalizing immigration
flows, until the chaotic sealift.
During Jackson's visit, Castro claimed to
be concerned about Cuban family reuni-
fication and profferred a tactical sacrifice:
He would now deign to talk about the re-
patriation of detained Mariel "criminals" as
part of wider talks. Castro had ignored peri-
odic State Department diplomatic notes
and other overtures for the unilateral accep-
tance of repatriated Mariel entrants. In May

1983, the assistant secretary of state for
inter-American affairs, Thomas Enders,
met the director of the Cuban Interests
Section in Washington, Ram6n Sanchez-
Parodi, to inform him that until Cuba
consented to that repatriation, no more im-
migrant visas except for immediate relative
cases would be issued to Cubans in Havana.
The Reagan State Department had in fact
been issuing few visas from the outset, lim-
iting these to immediate relatives of US
citizens rather than the more inclusive
preference immigrant visas. It thus fore-
closed most family reunification and also
left stranded and in duress in Cuba hun-
dreds of former political prisoners slated for
departure since the Carter years. Castro
could thus cast Washington as the impedi-
ment to family reunification. Twenty-six of
his political prisoners and 22 American
prisoners were all it cost Castro to strain the
partnership among his opponents, gain
media exposure, embrace Jackson and em-
barrass Reagan.
The Cuban president so redefinedthe po-
litical game that any move would be difficult
to accept; renewal of family reunification,
renewal of talks or repatriation of criminals
have differing constituencies, none of which
is willing to accept all three prospects. Cas-
tro could undermine the partnership of the
Reagan administration with Cuban-Ameri-
cans because the administration linked
family reunification with the repatriation of a
given cohort of Mariel Cubans detained in
the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary.

Byzantine Bureaucrats
In this and most aspects of its policy toward
Mariel entrants, the Reagan administration
unwittingly reinforced policy strains dating
to the Carter years as well as policymaking
designs of the State Department career bu-
reaucracy. Untangling the odd assortment
of bedfellows requires interpretive recon-
struction of the byzantine bureaucratic and
intergovernmental politics, mid-course re-
versals, improvisation, neglect and inde-
cisiveness typifying US immigration policy
toward Cuba. That policy is made, it seems,
by any and all comers rather than by any
single gamesman.
In a 1981 interview, Myles Frechette, for-

mer director of the Department of State's
Cuban Affairs Desk, characterized Castro's
opening of Mariel Harbor in 1980 as a "vis-
ceral" move made to counter the propa-
ganda beating Cuba was taking in the world
press over the Peruvian Embassy crisis and
its aftermath. In so doing, Castro began rid-
ding himself of 125,000 of Cuba's citizens
whom he found undesirable. Combined with
longer-running Haitian migration, the 1980
Cuban sealift spurred the mobilization of 17
federal agencies and tested-and found
wanting-newly-formed mechanisms for
refugee and asylee policy.
President Carter would cite Mariel as a
contributor to his electoral defeat. Indeed,
Frechette recalled in late summer 1980
sending Castro, via the US Interests Section
in Havana, a wry telegram to the effect that
his verbal assaults on candidate Reagan
were not only excessive but also inconsis-
tent with his undermining of President Car-
ter through the continuing sealift. The
Cuban foreign ministry delivered the tele-
gram to Castro while he was delivering a
speech to Communist Party Central Com-
mittee members. Castro read the missive in
mocking tones and added a few epithets
about candidate Reagan. Nonetheless, he
did close Mariel within two months, on Sep-
tember 25. Frechette and much of the press
attributed this in part to Castros fear of a
Reagan victory in November.
Much was not what it seemed during the
Mariel crisis. In the wake of violent incidents
at the US Interests Section and a domestic
backlash against Mariel "undesirables," the
State Department took to denying that
there were any bilateral "negotiations" over
Mariel other than repeated diplomatic notes
to the Cuban government. There were, in
fact, less formal talks here and abroad, in-
cluding Tarnoff's visit with Castro and
luncheon meetings between Frechette and
Sanchez-Parodi.
The Haitians and Cubans arriving in
1980 were, for all practical purposes, refu-
gees, with arguably equivalent claims for
such status under the logic of the Refugee
Act of 1980; yet they were linked in a
makeshift "entrant" designation. Theywere,
essentially, temporary parolees of the At-
torney General, and this middling status

CA1?BBEAN PEVIEW/5

caused more problems than it solved. It
complicated the federal division of labor
and skewed federal-state fiscal burdens to
the detriment of affected states, as the
Cuban-Haitian entrants were ineligible for
federally reimbursable refugee benefits.
The federal government was unable to
establish an effective coordinating mecha-
nism for the crisis, partly because desig-
nation of the Cubans and Haitians as
"entrants" rather than dejure refugees side-
lined the new office of the US Coordinator
for Refugee Affairs and weakened its ad hoc
Cuban-Haitian Task Force, put together to
implement coordinated policy toward the
sealifts.
The linkage of the Cubans' and Haitians'
immigration status ensued from sustained
pressure by Haitian advocacy groups, in-
cluding the congressional Black Caucus
and Miami-based agencies such as the Hait-
ian Refugee Center and the Haitian Refugee
Committee. The decision not to give these
arrivals refugee status owed largely to the
political volatility of this mass migration
and the Carter administration's decision not
to "reward" illegal immigration with that sta-
tus and attendant privileges. Nor did it want
the appearance of rewarding Castro any fur-
ther for his brazen direction of our Cuban
immigration policy. Policy was framed in
negative terms, and the Carter administra-
tion allowed not only Cuban and Haitian
lobbies great play on this side of the board,
but also legislators and local government
officials, particularly Florida's, as well as ca-
reer bureaucrats at State and Justice. These
players deserve attention to underscore the
degree to which the pluralist politics in-
volved have lacked ultimate synthesis in
policymaking leadership since 1980.

Florida
The decision to deny the 1980 Cuban and
Haitian arrivals refugee status blocked re-
course to the newly enacted Refugee Act of
1980. Lacking refugee status, they were in-
eligible not only for refugee-level social as-
sistance benefits, but also for provisions of
the act protecting the welfare of vulnerable
subgroups among them such as unaccom-
panied minors and pregnant women. States
were loath to take fiscal or legal responsibil-
ity for any entrants without a federal com-
mitment to full reimbursement.
The State of Florida was the most heavily
affected by the Cuban-Haitian influx. It was
both the point of arrival and long-term host
for the vast majority of the entrants. Local
resources were mobilized well before federal
ones and were taxed disproportionately
in comparison to previous immigration
emergencies. Florida leadership likewise
moved into the breach left by vacillating
national leaders.
During May and June 1980, while the
Carter administration equivocated on the
Cuban and Haitian arrivals' status and on
the appropriate formula and level for federal

assistance, Congressman Dante Fascell, in
cooperation with the rest of the Florida con-
gressional delegation, other concerned
members of Congress, Governor Bob
Graham of Florida, and the Washington of-
fice of the State of Florida, began to seek a
legislative remedy for the influx-related fi-
nancial crisis faced by heavily impacted
states and localities. The coalition pursued
its goal independently of, and for a time as
an adversary to, the White House. Its ini-
tiatives augured the leading role that Flor-
ida government at every level would take in
remedying the federal government's organ-
izational and leadership deficiencies with re-

Federal immigration policy
has long been reactive
rather than proactive.

gard to Cuban-Haitian policy.
Senators Richard Stone and Lawton
Chiles and Congressmen Fascell, William
Lehman and Edward Stack, all from Florida
and all Democrats, pursued a number of
legislative vehicles for the provision of full
federal reimbursement to the states for en-
trant-related expenses. The first viable one
would be the Fascell-Stone Amendment to
the Refugee Education Assistance Act of
1980, introduced by Stack in the House and
by Stone and Chiles in the Senate. The legis-
lation was enacted 10 October 1980. Albeit
late, it resolved the funding problem by
providing refugee-level benefits to the en-
trants. In this and other provisions, the Fas-
cell-Stone Amendment paralleled the
Refugee Act of 1980, providing for assump-
tion of both legal and financial responsibil-
ity for dependent populations of minors, the
pregnant, the elderly, the destitute and the ill
by the Office of Refugee Resettlement of the
US Department of Health and Human Ser-
vices. It also resolved the structural deficien-
cies of the federal response by vesting
authority for domestic resettlement in the
Secretary of Health and Human Services.
The Florida coalition thus took a position
of national leadership in the immigration
crisis. The persistence of the congressional
delegation in finding a legislative remedy,
and the clamor from affected communities,
won over the White House, which shifted
from direct opposition to full support of the
Fascell-Stone initiative. Florida then had 17
electoral votes, and shifts in White House
thinking about entrant funding, reception
and relocation policy hinged on Carter
pollster Pat Cadell's varying estimates
of the probability of salvaging the state
November 4th.
Melding with the congressional efforts
were those of City of Miami administrators,
who assumed a leading role in the govern-
mental response. The contributions of As-

sistant Miami City Managers Sergio Pereira
and C6sar Odio justified Dade's appellative
as the "county with a foreign policy." The
president himself tapped Pereira to serve
temporarily as his "special assistant" for the
Mariel influx. Beginning in June 1980 and
throughout the rest of the year, Pereira acted
as liaison with and advocate for both local
government and Cuban-Americans. Odio
became Miami's point man in the construc-
tion of "Tent City" under highway 1-95 to
house sponsorless Mariel entrants. Of
course these city functionaries, when asked,
would give readings of Miami's mood by
ethnic group and, in passing, of Castro's
murky motives and intentions. Along with
other Miamians, including administrators
of the locally-based Cuban Refugee Pro-
gram, Pereira and Odio pressed the White
House to establish a family reunification
mechanism to facilitate that task after the
passing of the Mariel crisis. The president's
assistant for intergovernmental affairs and
secretaryto the cabinet, Eugene Eidenberg,
initiated a registration effort only to allow it
to founder, and it was defunct when Reagan
came into office.
The Fascell-Stone initiative galvanized
disparate state and local efforts to change
federal Cuban-Haitian policy. In this en-
deavor and at the level of resource invest-
ment in the crisis, Florida established
precedents in intergovernmental relations
by assuming an ascendant role not only in
federal-state relations concerning the
Cuban-Haitian crisis but also in delineating
the American position against an adversary.
For instance, President Carter's ultimately
futile efforts to arrange an "air bridge" like
President Johnson's to replace the Cuban
sealift were prompted by Floridian pres-
sures as much as anything else.
The rationale for a major intergovern-
mental role for Florida, and especially Dade
County and Miami, in national immigration
policymaking was twofold. Federal immi-
gration policy has long been reactive rather
than proactive. In the case of the Cuban
influx, there were ample and very specific
intelligence warnings about an impending
exodus: Castro speeches between De-
cember 1979 and March 1980 made the
threat explicit. There was also the insistence
on the part of Cuban-American advocates
that the buildup in emigration pressure in
Cuba required a policy response. Similarly,
Haitian advocates had been calling for a fair
and equitable policy toward Haitian refuge
and asylum. In both cases, the federal gov-
ernment failed to respond until actual crisis
forced its hand. Even then, its status and
funding policy was in effect punitive to
South Florida and the entrants themselves,
prompting the Fascell-Stone and kindred
initiatives.
As a direct consequence of Fascell-Stone
and additional federal funding created
largely by the Florida lobby between 10 Oc-
Continued on page 36

6/CAI?BBEAN REVIEW

A Plea to Destigmatize Mariel

By Siro del Castillo
Translated by Judith C Faerron

Nowhere in modern US history has a group
of recent arrivals been more thoroughly in-
vestigated or widely written about in such a
short period of time than the Cubans who
formed part of the exodus of 1980. popu-
larly known as 'Nlarielitos." Nor is there any
group in this country whose social, cultural,
economic and political reality has been
more distorted and less understood.
The media and the academic and re-
search community (where it is demo-
graphic data rather than the person that
counts) took on the task of informing the
US public about the Cubans who began
arriving in waves at Key West in April 1980.
Both routinely ignored the human aspect.
failing to understand that the lives of these
people during the past quarter of a century
had been vastly different from those of most
Americans. or even from Cubans who had
previously made their way to the US.
The researchers-each rushing to be the
first to publish a study about the new arriv-
als-jumped to conclusions based on pre-
liminary information which in most cases
was obtained in a disorganized and chaotic
manner. They wrote reams about the Mariel
group as a whole based solely on 'scien-
tifically obtained" data relating tothosewho
entered the refugee camps, without stop-
ping to reflect on the differences between
them and those processed in Miami.
The media carried its own share of re-
sponsibility for creating myths about the
refugees. Front-page headlines announc-
ing the arrival of "25,000 homosexuals" or
many thousands of criminals, had a tre-
mendous negative effect on the Cubans'
futures. The myths were born, grew. and
after being repeated incessantly by the
press and the government, became ac-
cepted as reality. One of the more wide-
spread myths concerned the obscure sig-
nificance of tattoos sported by a number of
refugees. According to some. the tattoos
identified them as kidnappers, paid gun-
men, arms traffickers, etc., showing once
more the lack of knowledge in this country
about the Cuban reality-as if in Cuba there
was an ambassador or wealthy business-
man to kidnap, or a mafia employing hit
men.
If the media and academia made mis-

Sero del Castillo was camp commander of the
Krome Detention Center for Cuban and Haidian
Refugees in 7980 He also worked at the Fort
Chaffee Refugee Camp and wtrh several re-
settlement and employment programs. Judith
C Faerron is assistant editor of CR

takes and perpetuated myths, the US gov-
ernment did even more so-both under
Carter, who "welcomed them with open
arms." and under Reagan, who took charge
of them in 1981. Nor were state and local
governments exempt from such blunders.
One study undertaken by Dade County
reached the conclusion that Cuban refu-
gees faced "grave employment prob-
lems,"-this after interviewing 100 refu-
gees, 50 who were in jail and 50 who were
on welfare. This same office studied the
cause of death of Mariel refugees during the
first year after the exodus: whether it was
from one gunshot or two. or from knife
wounds, or hanging.
At Fort Chaffee. Arkansas. one of the five
camps which offered refuge to the Cubans, I
watched psychiatrists and psychologists
evaluate the refugees in order to determine
the best relocation program for each one.
These professionals lacked even minimal
regard for human dignity when interrogat-
ing the new arrivals. One uneducated black
dock worker, who had already been "evalu-
ated" five times, was accusingly asked if he
had experienced homosexual relationships.
When this proud macho exploded at the
offensive suggestion, sputtering expletives
at his interrogator, he was coldly described
on paper as an "explosive personality.'
Meanwhile, others experienced their first
contact with US law enforcement represen-
tatives: military policemen peddling mari-
juana. Federal Police Service officers selling
alcohol. and Washington park police solicit-
ing prostitution. Far trom helping the refu-
gees. the camps did them a lot of harm.
Add to these problems the double stan-
dard in categorizing new Cuban arrivals:
while a political prisoner arriving prior to
1980 was a hero. a former prisoner arriving
via Mariel was a common criminal to be
locked up in the Atlanta prison. Before Mar-
iel. a Cuban who had participated in acts of
sabotage in his country was a freedom
fighter; one of similar background arriving
on the freedom flotilla was treated as a
terrorist.
The real identities of the 1980 Cuban ref-
ugees are just beginning to emerge from
behind the masks consciously or uncon-
sciously put in place by their US hosts. The
number of so-called criminals has dropped
from 30,000 to 4.000. The thousands of
insane have been reduced now to hun-
dreds. The 25,000 homosexuals are in real-
ity only a few.
Today, the Mariel refugees have pro-
gressed from survival to actual develop-
ment and improvement: slowly but surely

Most of them are situated in a community
which was greatly affected by their arrival
and which is also recovering, thanks to the
efforts of those who live here and those who
came here during that hot summer of 1980.
Despite the insensitivities of many (includ-
ing the Cubans who emigrated before
1980); despite the fact that the US govern-
ment is reluctant to grant them the legal
status they deserve; despite the fact that the
press has emphasized the negative actions
of a small group; despite academics who
have attempted to place them under a mi-
croscope; and despite professionals who
are more interested in making money than
in really helping, the refugees from Mariel
are edging forward, and they will go far.That
is. of course, those who escaped the misfor-
tune of landing in the Atlanta Federal
Prison. US officials are now negotiating with
the totalitarian regime in Havana
for the return of these "delinquents and
criminals."
For the past quarter of a century we have
denounced the Castro regime for its human
rights' violations, especially the inhumane
conditions of its jails, citing the abuse that
goes on within them, the lack of food and of
medical care. How can we no' support, or
even remain silent in the face of, this gesture
to return Cubans already in the US to these
very jails, no matter how serious the crimes
committed here? Not to mention that some
are being returned simply because they ad-
mitted to having committed crimes in
Cuba. even though they are now rehabili-
tated and have shown themselves.to be
honest members of this society. It is unfair
to return only the "Mariel delinquents." If the
criterion used is the fact that they are
Cubans who have committed crimes in
Cuba or the US, they would all have to be
returned, starting with the criminals from
the repressive Batista dictatorship and end-
ing with the Cuban drug traffickers.
It is- also wrong to return the so-called
mentally ill. In doing this we would not only
be committing the same crime Castro
committed in sending them here, we would
be acting contrary to the rights that protect
such people in this country.
If we really want to understand and begin
to know the Cuban refugee from Mariel, we
must do so from a sincere and humane
point of view. We must start by destigma-
tizing them as a group and repudiating
the irresponsible and sensational myths
created about the great human tragedy
that began when more than 10.000 peo-
ple crowded into the Peruvian Embassy
grounds in Havana. LJ

CARBBEAN FCVIEW/7

The Future of CARICOM

Collective Self-Reliance in Decline?

By Anthony P Gonzales

ince its inception in 1973, CARICOM
has experienced continuous debilitat-
ing crises. This has occurred to such
a degree that many serious observers have
come to regard the situation as a permanent
condition associated with the problems of
underdevelopment and even a natural state,
akin to normal family conflict relations. Thus
today it is common to hear statements to the
effect that the quarreling is natural, and the
task is to ensure that the dialogue is kept
going. It is evident that short-run manage-
ment of quarreling has been the major fea-
ture of CARICOM and that those who adopt
this realistic view would commend the move-
ment for its maturity, political resolve for
crisis solution and capacity just to "stay the
course."
Such a position was adopted by the Group
of Caribbean Experts, who assessed the per-
formance of CARICOM and concluded that
only modest gains had been made in func-
tional cooperation, less-than-modest gains
in trade cooperation, and no progress or
setbacks in other fields. The group con-
cluded that "the fact, however, that the in-
stitutional framework of the community
remains intact, that an intergovernmental di-
alogue was and is being sustained, and that
intraregional trade and functional coopera-
tion continue to show resilience and in some
cases growth, indicate that the foundations

Anthony R Gonzales teaches international ec-
onomics in the Institute of International Rela-
tions at the University of the West Indies, St.
Augustine, Trinidad.

of the movement are still intact" ("The Carib-
bean Community in the 1980s," Report of
the Group of Caribbean Experts, CARICOM
Secretariat, 1980).

Two Schools of Thought
Those who perceive CARICOM as arising out
of the failure of the West Indies Federation are
impressed by its mere survival, particularly
in view of the complex development prob-
lems faced by the small, open, dependent
economies of its members. This perspective
emphasizes gradualism and pragmatism,
considering the original agreement (involv-
ing limited market integration, some func-
tional cooperation, and attempts at external
policy coordination) as a necessary minimal
framework which must be given time to suc-
cessfully work out the dynamics of expansion
and progress. The main justification for a
loose and flexible structure is that member
countries should be allowed the maximum
freedom to pursue policies and arrange-
ments with extra-CARICOM countries and
regions that are considered to be in their
national interests. The CARICOM treaty,
therefore, remains compatible with a variety
of external economic pursuits including
third-country purchases that may conflict
with a serious program of regional self-suffi-
ciency, dubious offshore activities, and ma-
nipulations of the rules of origin.
At the same time, members of this school
of thought perceive as dangerous to the sur-
vival of the institutional framework freedom
of movement, serious efforts at production
integration, legal provisions and action

against deviation from treaty rules and prin-
ciples, the notion of a "people's forum," and
constitutional independence for the Secre-
tariat to play a consensus-building role.
Some even regard CARICOM's development
potential as being limited mainly to a few
areas of functional cooperation, and subject
to expansion only if the region's external eco-
nomic position remains buoyant or im-
proves. CARICOM is thus considered a
residual market, with little or no autonomous
scope for economic development.
Many other analysts, however, regard the
survival of an incoherent loose structure not
as an achievement, but as reinforcing long-
run centrifugal tendencies. Members of this
school generally view CARICOM as a move-
ment with significant scope for growth and
transformation, but requiring development
policies which emphasize production coop-
eration. They strongly urge a more forceful
policy push that emphasizes regional plan-
ning, a common industrial policy and
greater harmonization and coordination of
national policies.
While the debate about CARICOM's pace
and achievements generally remains in-
conclusive, evidence over the last decade
suggests that the cautious approach may
have a higher level of credibility. For one,
ideological pluralism was at its high point in
the late seventies, and would have strained
and pressured a movement emphasizing co-
ordination of economic policies and sectoral
planning. Such a movement would not have
been able to accommodate major policy
changes and a greater degree of state inter-

8/CAIBBEAN mVIEW

vention in the economy. Furthermore, a
more integrated movement would not have
been able to accommodate the extreme ex-
ternal policy swings observed over the dec-
ade. A good case in point is Jamaica's policy
on foreign investment and integration into
the world economy before and after 1980.
Grenada and Guyana are also noteworthy for
their erratic and zigzag alterations in foreign
policy.
The world economic crisis would have
dealt CARICOM a much more serious blow if
its system of negotiating the distribution of
benefits had been more elaborate. The crisis
introduced greater heterogeneity, particu-
larly in levels of development, and conse-
quenty more possibilities for conflict in
interstate political bargaining-a burden-
some process whose economic irrationality
and inefficiency are magnified by the small
size and composition of the group. Experi-
ence with production integration, for in-
stance, has illustrated the difficulties inherent
in resource allocation, even under the pre-
sent limited arrangements and aims.
Stronger integration would not have been
the best response, since it appears that the
viability of CARICOM lies more in its confine-
ment to areas where potentially intense con-
flict is excluded. Its flexible and permeable
structure, capable of absorbing the shocks
which are sources of major disruption or
complete breakdown in similar integration
movements among developing countries,
seemed more appropriate to the circum-
stances of the late seventies and early
eighties.

If this argument is correct, then some fun-
damental questions must be addressed:
What is the minimum convergence of na-
tional interests needed to make such a loose
structure worth keeping? Is greater integra-
tion possible if world economic conditions
improve?
It is clear that there are important factors
which provide the basis for continuity and
survival under conditions of stagnation or
marginal progress. CARICOM countries, for
instance, do perceive the need to form some
nucleus of a community that would safe-
guard cherished political, cultural and ethnic
values, especially as they are surrounded by
larger and'different cultures. There is little
doubt that the assertion of a subregional
identity basd on geography, history, ethnicity
and culture has always been a major consid-
eration, and may today be eating greater
policy emphasis in view of difficulties in cul-
tural self-preservation, sovereignty and inde-
pendence being experienced by small
developing states. This appears to be the
case even though economic realities in many
ways subvert CARICOM's efforts in this
regard.
In addition, the idea of a Commonwealth
Caribbean Community serves to focus inter-
national attention on the region as well as to
strengthen its bargaining position in nego-
tiations with other regional and extraregional
countries and groups. Furthermore, CAR-
ICOM has offered some measure of net eco-
nomic gain as a package comprising market
access, aid and joint services. Whatever criti-
cisms may be made of its limited oppor-

'6f- E Par-2702 iOuAJseT

tunity for cooperation, it is evident that over
the decade the movement did manage to
collectively mobilize a larger volume of exter-
nal capital, negotiate greater access to mar-
kets of developed countries, facilitate
significant internal financial transfers to non-
oil-producing CARICOM states, and provide
a fair degree of internal market access in
spite of problems related to the world eco-
nomic crisis.
As to the question of whether greater inte-
gration may be possible in the future, the
Group of Caribbean Experts argued that sur-
vival of CARICOM's institutional framework
provides a basis for more rapid progress in
the future, provided that appropriate deci-
sions are made now. This view, however,
overemphasizes the chances for expanding
the minimal structure because it largely mis-
interprets CARICOM's historical experience.
It is clear that from 1974 on, the world
crisis and policy responses to it, particularly
in Jamaica and Guyana, were not only inim-
ical to the strengthening process but served
to undermine the long-term basis for future
economic cooperation due to the increased
extra-CARICOM dependence that resulted in
the end.
It is mistaken to think that once the world
crisis abates and certain other preconditions
are established (such as improved rapport
between heads of state, a larger degree of
ideological consensus with the fall of the
Manley regime in Jamaica and the demise of
the Peoples Revolutionary Government in
Grenada, reduced geopolitical tensions) the
functioning and performance of CARICOM

CAIlBBEAN FEVIEW/9

could be improved by correct and timely
decisions. Such prerequisites have been off-
set by the structural incapacity in all coun-
tries to earn the required foreign exchange,
calling for austerity adjustments and a shift
to export-led growth and further integration
into the world economy, some of which has
taken place at the expense of CARICOM. This
development has occurred because CAR-
ICOM is now perceived to have serious lim-
itations to industrialization, based to a large
extent on realities of size and the fact that
participation has not resulted in meaningful
changes to the industrial structures of mem-
ber states.

Mere Survival or Progress?
The trade conflicts and the Grenada crisis
shook the foundations of CARICOM. While
the movement does have some life indepen-
dent of economic success, there is a margin
of net economic benefit in trade, finance and
functional cooperation which, if not secured
and relatively well distributed, could seriously
impinge on its functioning.
Such a margin has come under threat
from Jamaica's structural adjustment mea-
sures, in particular the two-tiered currency
exchange-rate system introduced in April
1983 and the continual depreciation of the
Jamaican dollar ever since. In view of Ja-
maica's significance in intraregional trade,
these measures struck a major blow to intra-
CARICOM trade, which had already been
flagging due to the closing of the Guyanese
market, the collapse of the regional pay-

ments mechanism, and excessive depen-
dence on the market of Trinidad and Tobago.
The Jamaican trade measures triggered an
even greater concern when placed in a
broader context which considers Jamaica to
be pursuing international integration at the
expense of regional integration. With its
adoption of an IMF-type export-oriented ap-
proach, which aims at being a least-cost sup-
plier to the region and world at large, Jamaica
considers CARICOM a lower priority, even
though a group of local manufacturers may
still be dependent on the regional market.
Jamaica's concern with broadening the
integration process, and its initiatives to the
Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico, under-
scored the fragility of its link with CARICOM.
Since its population constitutes almost one-
half of the regional group, Jamaica, ever
since the days of the West Indies Federation,
has had serious reservations about the ca-
pacity of such a movement to meaningfully
support its development. As a result, the
search for broader extra-CARICOM arrange-
ments has always been a relatively constant
part of its external strategy, and in this sense
there is no major policy difference between
present and previous Jamaican govern-
ments. Even though under Manley greater
emphasis was placed on South-South coop-
eration, CARICOM was still considered a
marginal self-reliant process in terms of Ja-
maica's interests in broader regional, as well
as international, Third World cooperation.
The present government, with its strong em-
phasis on North-South cooperation, has rele-

gated CARICOM to even less significance.
The reality of CARICOM remained dis-
guised over the last decade so long as
Jamaica did not make this adjustment to
extra-CARICOM nations, and the balance of
payments enjoyed by Trinidad and Tobago
tended to relatively compensate for eco-
nomic declines in Jamaica and Guyana. The
situation was basically artificial and dem-
onstrates that CARICOM has little real eco-
nomic significance without successfully
exporting to the extra-CARICOM world.
While the trade problem no doubt weak-
ened the economic content of CARICOM, the
Grenada crisis focused attention on the need
for enhanced political cooperation. The rise
and fall of the PRG clearly revealed the move-
ments' deficiencies for dealing with human
rights' violations, unacceptable deviance
from parliamentary democracy, and threats
to the security of the region's weak states.
This problem must be given added priority,
since experience has shown that it threatens
one of the foundations of a Caribbean
Community.
It can be argued that the will to undertake
this political task should express itself inde-
pendently of improved economic results in
the future. Although the US intervention
drew sharp dividing lines and prompted un-
necessary and distasteful verbal exchanges,
it should not be an obstacle to seeking the
minimum necessary level of political cooper-
ation. While a CARICOM solution to the Gre-
nada crisis would have been desirable, it was
Continued on page 40

o1/CAIBBEAN mielw

CARICOM-Caribbean Community and Common Market

CARICOM was established in 1973 under
the Treaty of Chaguaramas, signed in Trin-
idad. It replaced CARIFTA (Caribbean Free
Trade Association), which had been in effect
since 1968. CARICOM's primary functions
are to provide free trade among member
nations for goods produced or manufac-
tured in the region, and to establish a com-
mon external tariff for goods coming into
the community. Its long-term goal is to re-
duce the region's external dependence
through regional integration and overall
economic development.

Governing Bodies
The Heads of Government Conference,
consisting of prime ministers, premiers and
chief ministers, is the highest policymaking
body. It can make decisions binding upon
member states and conclude treaties be-
tween CARICOM and individual states or
international organizations.

The Council of Ministers, comprised of gov-
ernment ministers designated by each
member nation, is CARICOM's principal
organ. It is responsible for the ongoing op-
eration and development of the Common
Market.

Member Nations
Antigua and Barbuda, Bahamas, Barba-
dos, Belize, Dominica, Grenada, Guyana,
Jamaica, Montserrat, St. Kitts-Nevis, St.
Lucia, St. Vincent and the Grenadines, Trin-
idad and Tobago.

Secretaries-General
1968-1970, E Cozier (Barbados)
1970-1974, William Demas (Trinidad)
1974-1977, Alister Mcintyre (Grenada)
1977-1978, Joseph Tyndall (Guyana),
Acting
1978-1983, Kurleigh King (Barbados)
1983- Roderick Rainford (Jamaica)

Chronology
1958-62. West Indies Federation-British
attempt to establish West Indian regional
integration and federation.
1962-July. Common Services Conference
in Trinidad; disposition of common ser-
vices established under West Indies
Federation.
1963-Jan. Caribbean Meteorological Ser-
vice established.
July. First Heads of Government Con-
ference in Trinidad.

1964-Jan. Second Heads of Government
Conference in Jamaica.
1965-March. Third Heads of Government
Conference in Guyana.
Dec. Original CARIFTA agreement
signed by Antigua, Barbados and
Guyana.
1967-Aug. Meeting of government officials
of Commonwealth Caribbean countries
in Guyana to formulate plans for ex-
panding CARIFTA.
Oct. Fourth Heads of Government Con-
ference in Barbados; resolution setting
forth goals of expanded CARIFTA.
1968-May. CARIFTA agreement becomes
effective with Antigua, Barbados,
Guyana, Trinidad and Tobago as found-
ing members.
June. Establishment of Eastern Carib-
bean Common Market (ECCM).
July. Antigua, Dominica, Grenada, St.
Kitts-Nevis-Anguilla, St. Lucia and St.
Vincent join CARIFTA.
Aug. Jamaica and Montserrat join
CARIFTA.
1969-Feb. Fifth Heads of Government
Conference in Trinidad.
1970-April. Sixth Heads of Government
Conference in Jamaica.
1971-June. Special conference of heads of
government in St. Lucia to discuss Ca-
ribbean Development Bank.
July. Special conference of heads of gov-
ernment in Grenada; signing of Grenada
Declaration calling for political unity.
1972-July. Publication of From CARIFTA
to Caribbean Community (Common-
wealth Caribbean Regional Secretariat,
Georgetown) proposing the conversion
of CARIFTA into a Caribbean Common
Market.
Oct. Seventh Heads of Government
Conference in Trinidad; decision to con-
vert CARIFTA into CARICOM effective 1
May 1973.
1973-April. Eighth Heads of Government
Conference in Guyana; passes the
Georgetown Accord, which changes ef-
fective date of CARICOM to 1 August
1973 and reaches compromise between
the less developed and more developed
countries of the region.
July. Signing of the Treaty of Cha-
guaramas establishing the Caribbean

Community and Common Market-
CARICOM.
Oct. First meeting of Common Market
Council of Ministers in Jamaica; deci-
sions on issues relating to regional eco-
nomic development and functioning of
newly established Common Market.
1974-Jan. Special meeting of Heads of
Government Conference including Bar-
bados, Guyana, Jamaica, Trinidad and
Tobago; cleared the way for entry into
CARICOM of nonindependent members
of CARIFTA which had signed the
Georgetown Accord.
April. Six less developed countries sign
Treaty of Chaguaramas: Belize, Domi-
nica, Grenada, Montserrat, St. Lucia and
St. Vincent.
July. Ninth Heads of Government Con-
ference in St. Lucia (First CARICOM
Summit); discussions on many topics
affecting the internal operations of the
Community and its relations with the
rest of the world.
1975-Dec. Second CARICOM Summit in
St. Kitts. Major topics included coordina-
tion of foreign policy among member
states, measures to counteract effects of
continuing inflation, a regional food
plan, regional transportation, special
measures for less developed countries.
Resolutions were adopted opposing the
proposed settlement of a large number
of metropolitan French in French
Guiana, requesting the United States to
eliminate visa requirements for CAR-
ICOM nationals entering the US Virgin
Islands, requesting the United Kingdom
to terminate the status of Associated
States, and requesting the United Na-
tions to protect the rights of the people
of Belize to self-determination and ter-
ritorial integrity.
1976-March. Special meeting of Heads of
Government Conference in Trinidad to
discuss restructuring of University of the
West Indies.
1979-June. Fourteenth Council of Minis-
ters meeting in Guyana; first time repre-
sentatives of the People's Revolutionary
Government of Grenada participate.
Dec. Fifteenth Council of Ministers
meeting in St. Lucia announces agree-
ment of all members to hold a summit
early in 1980.
1980-March. Sixteenth Council of Minis-
Continued on page 40

CAIBBEAN rEVIEW/11

Will the OAS Live To Be 100?

Does it Deserve To?

By Francis X. Gannon

On 12 March 1984 the foreign minis-
ters of 32 hemispheric states con-
vened at the headquarters of the
Organization of American States in Wash-
ington, DC to select a new OAS secretary
general (Dr. Joao Clemente Baena Soares
of Brazil). Two questions more basic than
the election loomed uppermost in the
minds of many people within and outside
the world's oldest international organiza-
tion: Can the OAS survive until 1989, its
centennial year? Does it deserve to survive?
Started in 1889 as a small statistical unit
with a token budget of $36,000 (in contrast
to its current $90 million budget), the OAS
emerged institutionally in several spasm-
like stages. Between 1923 and 1954, Latin
America and the United States used this
mutual political forum as an instrument to
establish an elaborate mesh of legal and
treaty obligations that bind them closely to
each other. So complex is the region's legal
framework that scholars argue it has cre-
ated a separate body of American interna-
tional law.
Between 1954 and 1970, with the rising
tides of economic expectation in postwar
Latin America and the Caribbean, the re-
gional system shifted away from its preoc-
cupation with legal norms as OAS
members focused their attention on hemi-
spheric development. Consequently the In-
ter-American Development Bank was
formed (1958), the Alliance for Progress
was launched (1961), the OAS was re-
organized to give strong emphasis to educa-
tion, science and culture (1967), and after
1970 abortive measures were designed ei-
ther to make collective economic security
of equal concern to geopolitical security or
to promote broader cooperation for
development.
A third phase, which began to intensify
about 1960 and which led to ratification by
OAS states in 1978 of the modern Ameri-
can Convention on Human Rights, has con-
sisted of broad attempts to provide some

Francis X. Gannon was consultant to the OAS
secretary general from 1976 to 1984. He is the
author of Joseph D. Keenan: Labor's Ambas-
sador in War and Peace and severalpublished
essays on hemispheric affairs.

JUU lail I I.IL LJU.I IC uUJ -
practical underpinnings to the hemi-
sphere's basic democratic ethos by enlarg-
ing the scope of legal protection for human
rights, especially those involving individual
civil liberties.
Earlier juridical and legal tides had led to
the adoption of the Rio Treaty of "collective
self-defense" in 1947 and the OAS Charter
itself in 1948. Subsequently, at least until
the mid-1970s, these instruments were
used primarily to maintain peace between
OAS states or to dampen threats to hemi-
spheric security and friendship, and for
much of the postwar period the Western
Hemisphere remained a relatively tranquil
area, at least in relations among OAS mem-
ber states.
One can, of course, point readily to ex-
ceptions: the Dominican intervention by the
US under an OAS umbrella in 1965, an
action which some scholars still argue was
hasty, contrived and unwarranted; the 1969
war between Honduras and El Salvador, a
brief but bloody encounter; and the theo-
retically outmoded but violent imbroglio
between Great Britain and Argentina over
the Malvinas/Falkland Islands in 1982, an
unusual clash involving an extra-hemi-
spheric power for the first time in this cen-
tury. Furthermore domestic turmoil in the
region, often force-fed from outside na-
tional boundaries by the USSR and Cuba,
has been and remains a serious challenge,
especially for the foreseeable future in Cen-
tral America. Yet compared with other de-
veloping regions, so far the American
hemisphere is not gripped by Promethean
international struggles such as those that
might, let us say, force an immediate

closure of the Strait of Hormuz and create a
cataclysmic potential for a third world war.
Still the long-term consequences of these
and other struggles are interesting. Long
suffering under the Trujillo dictatorship, the
Dominican Republic enjoyed a prolonged
spell of internal calm and democratic open-
ness after the mid-1960s. The dispute be-
tween Honduras and El Salvador was finally
resolved by a peace treaty signed atthe OAS
in 1980, perhaps primarily because under
regional treaties a situation of status quo
antebellum inevitably prevails so that con-
quered territory cannot remain in the hands
of any conqueror. And, newly democratic
Argentina is seeking to face up to the mis-
calculations and blunders committed by its
former military government in handling the
Malvinas crisis.

Steam Valve or Ineffectual Entity?
Clearly the OAS is not the only, or, perhaps,
even the main reason for relative interna-
tional peace in the Americas since 1945. Yet
its existence does help serve as a steam
valve to keep potential disputes within rea-
sonable bounds, as has happened on sev-
eral recent occasions when firing broke out
on the border between Ecuador and Peru. It
has been and can still be used by its mem-
bers as a volunteer fire department to put
out major political fires that erupt across
national borders.
Equally clear, of course, are the organiza-
tion's weaknesses. Its principle of noninter-
vention has, as The Washington Post's
Stephen Rosenfeld notes, been violated in
practice by many more countries than the
United States, particularly during the ouster
of the despised Somoza regime. And for
almost 15 years, attempts to give the organ-
ization a more dynamic role in the field of
development cooperation have consistently
failed, although a positive turnaround in the
OAS Economic and Social Council since
mid-1983 could portend possible, if
glacier-like, improvements here.
Prolonged OAS inability to respond effec-
tively to the ongoing upheaval and turmoil
in Central America, moreover, is reflected in
the jejune manner in which the Kissinger
Commission cavalierly dismissed both the
organization and the inter-American system

12/ CAiBBEAN mIrIw

in its much-heralded report. The commis-
sion's nonrecognition of the OAS reinforced
such views as that of US News & World
Report, whose editors contended that the
OAS "has proven worthless in this situa-
tion-toothless and timid," or of Venezu-
ela's new president Jaime Lusinchi, who
claimed that the OAS is so ill that "it is on the
road to becoming a cadaver."
One weakness of such criticisms is that
they, in effect, treat the organization as a
third party, an entity distinct from the gov-
ernments which belong to it. In 1954 the
first secretary general, Alberto Lleras Ca-
margo, pointed out that the organization is
nothing more than the will of its members.
This is still true; the OAS can act only as its
sovereign members agree to do so.
The OAS is also regularly faulted for not
determining ways to solve all of the region's
outstanding geopolitical disputes-not
only the problems gripping Central Amer-
ica. Governance in the Western Hemi-
sphere, a study issued by the Aspen
Institute, underscored this by recommend-
ing "that in the next general assembly of the
OAS, member governments agree to press
for the resolution of all extant border dis-
putes over the next five years, and to recom-
mend specific procedures to do so." Setting
a timetable for resolving outstanding dis-
putes, such as the future of Belize or of the
Beagle Channel, seems a laudable proposi-
tion. In response, however, Mexico's premier
international lawyer, Rafael de la Colina,
commented that such a rigid five-year goal
"seems inpractical, well-intentioned but un-
realistic." He added that the Aspen group's
further recommendation that the OAS pro-
vide technical assistance in delimiting
boundaries could be acted upon as the
OAS already has the means to provide this
assistance. However, its ability to be of real
service in this area will not depend "on gen-
eral calls to action" but on "whether or not
there is the consent of the parties involved in
each specific dispute."
Commenting on the thesis that the OAS
Permanent Council should "monitor all dis-
putes and potential breaches of the peace in
the Americas," Ambassador de la Colina
consigned that idea to a university shelf,
noting "that such an ambitious mandate

would raise more problems than it would
solve, awakening many dormant disputes
and overburdening the already taxed OAS
system."
For those who wish to improve the OAS's
role in assuring peace, development and
democratic norms in the hemisphere, a
backward glance at the way that member
states have used the organization seems
essential. This may be particularly helpful
for those determined to plunge the OAS
willy-nilly into the Central American
cauldron. The 1948 charter of the OAS, as
amended in 1967, is broad and detailed. In
a theoretical sense the organization can be
all things to all people in the Americas. Pro-
vided the member governments jointly de-
termine a specific course of action,
anything is possible; when such consensus
is lacking, the OAS cannot act.
Lack of knowledge about the regional
system, the Rio Treaty and the OAS per-
vades the entire hemisphere. Thus, when
warfare broke out over the Malvinas in
1982, the putative dean of US neoconserva-
tives, Irving Kristol, complained: "How on
earth did we ever come to sign such an
absurd treaty? And why do we persist in
remaining a signatory to it? To put it bluntly:
What national interest of ours is served by
this treaty? .. It is in pursuit of this goal [rule
of law] that we get a Rio Treaty, or the estab-
lishment of the Organization of American
States, a kind of mini-United Nations...."
Earlier, one of the most informed US ex-
perts on the OAS, John W. Ford, had replied
to skeptics when he said in the OAS Council
in 1973: "In thirteen applications over the
years the Rio Treaty has served the hemi-
sphere well in dealing with aggression and
threats or fears of aggression-whether by
one American state against another or
whether stemming directly or indirectly
from extracontinental sources-as well as
in providing good offices in calming dis-
putes that might have led to actual conflicts.
Through these applications and through
the element of restraint implicit in the mere
fact of its existence, the treaty has been an
important element in providing this hemi-
sphere with an exceptional record: that is,
only one actual armed conflict between
American states since it went into effect,

and that conflict was ended in five days by
Rio Treaty action of the OAS. For these rea-
sons the United States looks on the Rio
Treaty as one of the principal pillars of the
inter-American system, and we believe it
essential to preserve it as an effective collec-
tive security and peacekeeping instrument
for this hemisphere."
One strategic occasion on which the OAS
contribution to regional peace was im-
pressively evident was during the Cuban
missile crisis of October 1962. In the words
of Senator Robert F Kennedy (McCalls,
1968), "itwasthe vote of the Organization of
American States that gave a legal basis for
the quarantine... it had a major psycholog-
ical and practical effect on the Russians and
changed our position from that of outlaws
acting in violation of international law into a
country acting in accordance with twenty
allies, legally protecting their position."
Contrary to its premature burial by critics,
including the Kissinger Commission, for
over nine decades the OAS has played an
informal but certainly singular role in pro-
moting hemispheric peace and develop-
ment. Much of its work is, and will remain,
unsung, precisely because its member
states try to keep matters that way. "Corridor
diplomacy," rather than public posturing, is
generally the method preferred by the OAS
countries and their ambassadors to carry
out their agreed-upon responsibilities. As
former senator, Gale W McGee, the US Per-
manent Representative in the OAS during
the Carter era noted, in a three-year period
within the OAS he found himself engaged
in private discussions and negotiations that
helped maintain regional peace on at least
five occasions, something that had never
happened to him during his 19 previous
years in the US Senate.
What is the OAS's main role, then, de-
spite its imperfections? Several answers
have been suggested. Walt N. Rostow (for-
mer member of the Inter-American Com-
mittee on Alliance for Progress and special
assistant to the President) has observed that
"in keeping extracontinental military power
out of the hemisphere, the OAS avoided
making Latin America the kind of bearpit
that Africa, the Middle East and Asia have
become." Colombian magazine, Consigna,

CARIBBEAN FeW1W/13

has echoed that it "is the only thing that
separates us from total fragmentation and
perhaps war."
Those conclusions may be somewhat
overdrawn. At present, moreover, Latin
America is increasingly involved in the
broader international arena. Thus its com-
mitments to the OAS do not appear as
strong or extensive as in previous periods of
the organization's history. Nonetheless, the
governments of most OAS members are,
above all, realistic, and they know from ex-
perience that the organization's existence
precludes, in John W Ford's term, the "bal-
kanization of the hemisphere." It also keeps
the United States more willing to listen to
and act with its neighbors than to plunge
ahead precipitously on its own. At the same
time, as Costa Rican spokesmen have
stressed for years, its existence has helped
guarantee the sovereignty and indepen-
dence of smaller OAS states, especially
when they are threatened militarily by their
neighbors.

US Attitudes
As for US interest in the organization, since
the late 1960s successive administrations
have, in effect, dealt almost exclusively with
this hemisphere under bilateral nation-to-
nation approaches rather than bringing is-
sues into the regional multilateral forum.
This is particularly true in the area of devel-
opment. Starting with the Nixon admin-
istration's de facto rejection of the
Consensus of Vifa del Mar, a document on
hemispheric cooperation for development
forged by Latin America's foreign ministers
in 1969, the US gave only peripheral atten-
tion to development questions within the
regional forum. In 1970 the OAS Special
Committee on Trade and Negotiations was
established at US insistence, and while this
was intended as an instrument for dialogue
and negotiations before US trade decisions
were made, in practice its results have been
limited. During the mid-1970s, when a Pe-
ruvian-inspired initiative to give the princi-
ple of "collective economic security" equal
status with that of "geopolitical security" in
the inter-American system made headway
in the OAS, the United States backed away
entirely. And even though Secretary of State
Henry Kissinger spawned a proposal for a
special OAS Assembly on Cooperation for
Development at the annual OAS Assembly
in Santiago in 1976, the US did little after-
wards to press action on the proposal, de-
spite constant urging from Latin America
and various OAS organs. In fact over the
past 15 years or so, the only US regional
initiatives of any kind in the development
area were promoted outside the OAS at a
special meeting of foreign ministers held at
Tlatelolco, Mexico, in 1974. This promising
venture was derailed, though, when a fol-
low-up meeting was not held after the US
Congress excluded Venezuela and Ecuador
from the trade preferences of the 1974

Trade Act.
Various factors caused US diffidence to-
wards multilateralism and failure to use the
instruments of the OAS after 1969. A thesis
advocated initially during the Nixon admin-
istration was that Latin America had to
agree first on its own positions and then the
United States would respond. In other words
the United States did not want to attend a
regional forum where it had to deal with
Latin American countries squabbling
among themselves on the region's overall
development priorities. Another source of
US antipathy towards the common hemi-
spheric forum was its preoccupation with

In many respects, the
OAS administrative leader
is a "toothless wonder."

Vietnam. After the casting aside in 1971 of
the Bretton Woods arrangements (agree-
ment among Western nations fixing ex-
change rates) and the OPEC-Arab oil crisis
of October 1973, moreover, the US was in-
creasingly concerned with its own domestic
economic fortunes, especially with bring-
ing rampant inflation under control. A third
cause was the widely accepted principle that
at present the world's economic problems
are essentially global in nature and, conse-
quently, for most economic development
issues regional multilateral forums are gen-
erally passe. This position was maintained
tenaciously and conspicuously by the Car-
ter administration to the point where it be-
came counterproductive to friendly re-
gional relationships.
A cursory review of US involvement in the
regional forum since 1969 indicates at best
a general sense of inertia. That other mem-
ber states frequently responded to the
organization in the same fashion hardly ex-
onerates US policymakers. The basic ques-
tion, though, is whether this lack of
commitment to strengthening regionalism
over such an extended period has adversely
affected the situation in Central America. A
question of this nature cannot be answered
with certainty. But hindsight makes it plau-
sible to argue that had the United States set
forth an effective and sustained regional
policy over the past 15 years, especially one
with serious multilateral components, it
would have acted decisively in 1978 when a
democratic opening was a major possibility
in Nicaragua. At the same time the major
economic problems facing Central America
now might be less severe and more man-
ageable from a US perspective.

Survival Prospects
What the preceding realities seem to indi-
cate is that when the OAS foreign ministers
were concentrating on selecting a new sec-

retary general, they should have also been
giving more than passing thought to the
future of the OAS itself. Do its members
have the will needed to update and mod-
ernize their organization? After all, not
even a super leader possessing the com-
bined abilities of George Washington, Mex-
icos Benito Juarez and Jamaica's Marcus
Garvey-three hemispheric figures whose
busts stand side by side in the OAS Hall of
Heroes-could efficiently direct an organ-
ization whose purposes and achieve-
ments find little resonance within member
countries.
No doubt the OAS will survive any and all
attempts to displace or ignore it. Its record
of guaranteeing the integrity and indepen-
dence of smaller regional states, as well as
its general contribution to keeping peace
and protecting human rights, are sufficient
to assure its survival. If its contribution to
development in the region is no longer as
substantial as a decade ago, it could still
serve as the forum for promoting hemi-
spheric development cooperation, provided
its member states are willing to use it in this
area.
It is self-evident that the organization
needs to rethink and adapt its basically
sound principles and purposes to contem-
porary circumstances and conditions. Vari-
ous OAS bodies have already initiated such
action as evidenced by the work between
1978 and 1981 of the OAS Joint Economic
and Social Council/Education, Science and
Culture Council Working Group in the de-
velopment field. Whether adaptation will
take place is, of course, unpredictable. What
is predictable, however, is that failure by the
OAS member states to proceed along this
path will lead to further drift and indecision
in the organization, frustration on the part of
its highly motivated but often thinly
stretched international staff of career civil
servants, and many unsettling days for its
sixth secretary general.
A number of interrelated measures are
essential if the OAS is to be revitalized. A
coordinated, conscious effort should be
made to integrate the ministates from the
English-speaking Caribbean fully into the
regional system. As demonstrated during
the 1982 OAS turmoil over the Malvinas,
when the Caribbean states backed Great
Britain against Argentina, a massive politi-
cal fissure exists between the Caribbean
and Latin American OAS members. One
inadvertent casualty of this situation was the
inability of the well-regarded incumbent as-
sistant secretary general, Val T McComie of
Barbados, to succeed Alejandro Orfila in
the organization's principal post when the
secretary general resigned in November
1983.
The two OAS ministerial-level technical
units-the Economic and Social Council
(CIES) and the Education, Science and Cul-
ture Council (CIECC)-should be inte-
Continued on page 42

14/CAIBBEAN fIEW

OAS -Organization of American States

The Organization of American States was
founded in 1890 when 18 independent
American republics held the First Interna-
tional Conference of American States in
Washington, DC, creating the International
Union of American Republics. This became
the Organization of American States with
the adoption of the charter in 1948. The
stated purpose of the OAS is to achieve an
order of peace and justice, promote soli-
darity, strengthen collaboration, and defend
the sovereignty, territorial integrity and in-
dependence of the member states. Each
nation has one vote, and no veto power
exists. Official languages are English,
French, Portuguese and Spanish.

Governing Bodies
The General Assembly is the supreme body
for formulating policies; it determines stan-
dards governing operation of the General
Secretariat.
The Meeting of Consultation of Ministers of
Foreign Affairs makes decisions on urgent
matters of common concern to the Ameri-
can states and serves as Organ of Consulta-
tion in case of armed attack or other threat.
The Permanent Council, Inter-American
Economic and Social Council, and Inter-
American Council for Education, Science
and Culture are directly responsible to the
General Assembly; they carry out its assign-
ments as well as those of the Meeting of
Consultation of Ministers of Foreign Affairs.
The General Secretariat is the permanent
and central organ, carrying out the pro-
grams and policies decided upon by the
General Assembly and the councils. It is
under the direction of the Secretary
General.

Other Organs
Inter-American Juridical Committee, Inter-
American Commission on Human Rights,
Inter-American Court on Human Rights,
Specialized Conferences, Pan American
Health Organization, Inter-American Chil-
dren's Institute, Inter-American Commis-
sion of Women, Pan American Institute of
Geography and History, Inter-American In-
dian Institute, Inter-American Institute for
Cooperation on Agriculture, Inter-American
Defense Board, Inter-American Statistical

Information excerpted from The OAS and the
Inter-American System (OAS General Secre-
tariat, Department of Public Information, 1981)

Institute, Inter-American Nuclear Energy
Commission, Administrative Tribunal.

Member Nations
Antigua and Barbuda, Argentina*,
Bahamas, Barbados, Bolivia*, Brazil*,
Chile*, Colombia*, Costa Rica*, Cuba, Do-
minica, Dominican Republic, Ecuador*, El
Salvador*, Grenada, Guatemala*, Haiti*,
Honduras*, Jamaica, Mexico*, Nicaragua*,
Panama, Paraguay*, Peru*, St. Kitts-Nevis,
St. Lucia, St. Vincent and the Grenadines,
Suriname, Trinidad and Tobago, United
States of America*, Uruguay*, Venezuela*
* Founding member

Secretaries-General
1948-1954, Alberto Lleras Camargo
(Colombia)
1954-1955, Carlos Davila (Chile)
1956-1968, Jose A. Mora (Uruguay)
1968-1975, Galo Plaza (Ecuador)
1975-1983, Alejandro Orfila (Argentina)
1984- Joao Baena Soares (Brazil)

Chronology
1826 Signing of the Treaty of Union,
League and Perpetual Confederation at
the Congress of Panama, convoked by
Sim6n Bolivar.
1889-1890 First International Conference
of American States, Washington, DC;
founded the International Union of
American Republics with its central of-
fice, the Commercial Bureau, in Wash-
ington, DC.

1901 Second International Conference of
American States, Mexico City; adopted
the Protocol of Adherence of the Ameri-
can Republics to the conventions framed
by the First Hague Peace Conference in
1899.
1906 Third International Conference of
American States, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil;
expanded the duties of the Commercial
Bureau to include educational matters.
1910 Fourth International Conference of
American States, Buenos Aires, Argen-
tina; changed the name of the Interna-
tional Union of American Republics to
Union of American Republics, and the
Commercial Bureau to Pan American
Union.
1947 Inter-American Conference for the
Maintenance of Continental Peace and

Security (a special conference), Rio de
Janeiro; drew up the Inter-American
Treaty of Reciprocal Assistance (Rio
Treaty), which defines the principal obli-
gations of the signatories in the event of
armed attacks against an American
state or acts of aggression short of
armed attack.
1948 Ninth International Conference of
American States, Bogota, Colombia.
Signing of the Charter of the OAS. The
Union of American Republics changed
its name to Organization of American
States; the General Secretariat of the
OAS continued to be called the Pan
American Union until 1970. The con-
ference also approved the American
Treaty on Pacific Settlement or "Pact of
Bogota"; the American Declaration of
the Rights and Duties of Man, precursor
of the Universal Declaration of Human
Rights; the Economic Agreement of
Bogots; and conventions on the grant-
ing of civil and political rights to women.
1954 Tenth Inter-American Conference,
Caracas, Venezuela; changed the direc-
tion and orientation of the policies and
programs of the OAS by emphasizing
economic, social, and cultural
development.
1956 Meeting of the presidents of the
American Republics in Panama City to
commemorate the 130th anniversary of
the Congress of Panama and to honor
Sim6n Bolivar. The Declaration of Pan-
ama called for an intensive cooperative
effort to make human liberty and just
and decent living conditions a reality for
all the peoples of America.
1959 Fifth Meeting of Consultation (under
the charter), Santiago, Chile; created the
Inter-American Commission on Human
Rights.
1960 Sixth Meeting of Consultation, San
Jose, Costa Rica (first under the Rio
Treaty); resolved "to condemn.. .par-
ticipation of the government of the Do-
minican Republic in acts of aggression
and intervention against Venezuela
which culminated in the attempt on the
life of the president of the country," and
called for the breaking of diplomatic re-
lations of all the member states with the
Dominican Republic and partial inter-
ruption of economic relations of all
member states with that country.
The Act of Bogoth set forth measures for
Continued on page 44

CAI?BBEAN vMieW/15

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During the last 25 years, the com-
monwealth Caribbean has been ex-
periencing mounting tensions
which, in many cases, are related to influ-
ences emanating from outside countries:
Cuba, Russia, the United States, and the
string of unstable countries in Central and
South America. The successful coups in
Grenada (1979) and nearby Suriname
(1982), and the murder in October 1983 of
Maurice Bishop have been the most dra-
matic manifestations of these tensions,
which have usually erupted from sharp
ideological differences.
The last five years, especially, have wit-
nessed a sustained struggle between Carib-
bean governments and the privately owned
media over freedom of the press. Both the
ruling People's National Congress in
Guyana, led by Forbes Burnham, and
Michael Manley's People's National Party in
Jamaica have been engaged in protracted
confrontations with the private media. In
some of the smaller states, the govern-
ments have placed a series of restrictions
on the media. In Montserrat, for example,
the government proposed a newspaper reg-
istration and surety ordinance in 1981,
which required newspapers to declare full
details of proposed operations and lodge a

Ramesh Deosaran teaches communications
and social psychology at the University of the
West Indies in Trinidad.

bond of $50,000 with the government.
Early that same year the Dominican gov-
ernment had to unleash severe censorship
in reaction to a coup threat.
In Trinidad and Tobago and Barbados,
there have been skirmishes between the
media and the respective governments;
and while there have been government
complaints of "press irresponsibility," no
legislative or serious political actions have
been taken against the media in these two
countries. In fact, the constitution of Trin-
idad and Tobago specifically guarantees
freedom of the press beyond "freedom of
conscience and expression."
After the successful coup by Bishop's
New Jewel Movement (NJM) against Eric
Gairy's regime in March 1979, the constitu-
tion and all the media in Grenada were
quickly disbanded. The People's Revolu-
tionary Government's (PRG) broken
promises to reopen the papers and call
early elections in Grenada evoked strong
criticisms from media throughout the
Caribbean.
Except for Guyana, and Grenada under
its revolutionary government, the privately
owned media in the Commonwealth Carib-
bean are fairly well established. There are
three major regional bodies: the 27-mem-
ber Caribbean Publishers and Broadcasters
Association (CPBA), including private and
some government-owned media, but ex-
cluding the media in Grenada and Guyana;
the Caribbean News Agency canaA), sup-

ported by the CPBA in the dissemination of
regional and international news; and the
Caribbean Press Council (CPC), supported
by the CPBA as a "watchdog" for com-
plaints against the media.
The private media, through the CPBA
and on their own, have a strong and direct
involvement in the Miami-based Inter-
American Press Association (IAPA). The
most influential newspapers in the region
are five dailies: the Gleaner in Jamaica, the
Advocate and Nation in Barbados, and
Guardian and Express in Trinidad. With a
combined daily circulation of almost
250,000, these have led the struggle over
the issue of a free press.
The term "free press," as used here, es-
sentially means a press free from direct
government control and one under private
ownership subject to existing publication
and property laws. Hence, to the extent that
private property is seen as an integral right
in mixed economies such as those widely
found in the Commonwealth Caribbean, so
too would the right to publish be upheld by
the publishers. "Free press" thus means a
press that is, at least in theory, independent
from political control and one which stands
by the adversary relationship with the gov-
ernment of the day. It is this latter feature
which gives the press its watchdog role and
hence its widely conceived status as a voice
of the people on the range of issues which
occupy the nation's mind. The watchdog
role is further legitimized by the need for

16/CAI?BBEAN I~EIEw

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elected governments to be accountable to
the people and to be tested on their policies
during their terms of office.
It falls within the duty of the press to up-
hold this system of accountability. A news-
paper, therefore, becomes an economic
commodity with a political function, albeit
one obligated to perform within legal limits.
Quite often, the criticisms leveled between
the government and the press mask the
fundamental economic and political inter-
ests at stake. Both claim to be acting in the
name of democracy and in the public inter-
est. Obviously, there are many occasions
where this is clearly so; at other times, the
claim is not so clear.
It should be pointed out that a free press
may be controlled by the economic inter-
ests of private business. However, it seems
clear that the privately owned media are
more acceptable to Caribbean peoples than
state-controlled media, and can better guar-
antee freedom of expression in the region.

The PRG vs. the Free Press
This struggle in Grenada was essentially
one over information circumscribed by
ideological interests. On one hand, the PRG
attempted to construct socialist goals, inter-
national relationships within the socialist
bloc, strategies to deal with internal opposi-
tion, and a political philosophy which it
wanted to legitimize, both internally and ex-
ternally. It wanted to persuade others of the
virtues of its theories and practices. This

need to communicate effectively became
an overwhelming consideration since the
PRG was functioning in a political context
unfamiliar to people in the Commonwealth
Caribbean. Though initially viewed as a le-
gitimate replacement to the deposed Gairy
regime, the PRG was not an elected govern-
ment. Its early advantage dwindled under
the mounting attacks by the press.
On the other hand, the press across the
Commonwealth Caribbean (mainly Ja-
maica, Trinidad and Tobago, and Barbados)
began questioning the manner in which the
PRG was conducting its political affairs and,
more particularly, the kinds of controls it
exerted over the free press in Grenada, its
delay in calling general elections, and the
treatment it was allegedly meting out to its
political opposition in Grenada. The lever-
age for such press attacks also came from
the fact that Grenada belonged to CAR-
ICOM. The family ties, close trade obliga-
tions, historical similarities and shared
political systems within CARICOM blurred
the concept of national sovereignty.
Though the PRG claimed sovereignty as
a line of defense, the press acted on the
traditions well set within the Caribbean, that
is a free press and periodic elections. In fact,
these were two prominent reasons for the
Caribbean's early tolerance of the PRG
coup. The Gairy regime had been con-
demned for corrupt electoral practices and
suppression of free speech. Within the first
month of assuming power, the PRG repeat-

edly announced its intention to hold elec-
tions "as soon as possible" and to restore to
Grenadians all the basic freedoms that
"Gairy had taken away."
As the criticisms from the press inside
and outside Grenada increased, the PRG
retaliated by first imposing restrictions on
the local press, and then closing them
down. This led to several basic questions:
Are the interests of the free press always
those of the people? To what extent is the
press entitled to criticize a revolutionary
government, especially in its early stage of
consolidation? How does a revolutionary
government respond to what it considers
"unfair and counterrevolutionary" attacks
from the press?
The Caribbean media quite early stated
its firm belief that it was speaking "for all
democratically-minded people" of the Ca-
ribbean. For example, the Trinidad Guard-
ian, faced by PRG attacks that the free press
is controlled by "minority interests," replied
with a touch of sarcasm: "In our country, the
minority consists of shareholders of various
political parties, classes and creeds, of trade
union executives and newspaper employ-
ees, and there are also many independently
owned newspapers and aggressive house
organs and political periodicals. To that ex-
tent, at least, the Trinidad and Tobago
press represents accurately the people in
a democracy." (Guardian Editorial, 24
November 1982.)
The PRG attacked the press in the Carib-

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bean for being "tools of imperialism, pup-
pets of US policy, and weapons of the ruling
economic class." For example, the late
Maurice Bishop told a group of socialist
organizations assembled in Grenada that
the Caribbean press was run by hard-line
capitalists whose interests were economic
domination. He called the Caribbean press
"the Mafia press" and subsequently de-
scribed it as "mongrels wagging their tails
for their US masters," accusing it of being
"in collusion with the CIA." He then attacked
the press for being "an unholy alliance of
regional media magnates" and for en-
gineering the downfall of Jamaican prime
minister, Michael Manley.
The Caribbean press continued its attack
on the PRG. Between 14 March 1979 and
19 October 1983 (the day Bishop was
killed), the two Trinidad dailies, Guardian
and Express, carried a total of 407 stories
on Grenada, of which 288 could be consid-
ered either favorable or unfavorable; the rest
could be considered neutral. Of the 288, 79
percent were critical of PRG policies, and 21
percent were favorable. That initial support
for the PRG soon turned to condemnation is
well reflected in the words of Ken Gordon,
Express managing director and former
chairman of the Caribbean Publishers and
Broadcasters Association. In a public state-
ment to Bishop in 1980, Gordon said: "As I
told you in March after your revolution ... I
greatly admired your commitment and
courage.... But support and commitment
to relevant change are one thing. Broken
promises, dishonesty and abuse of power
are another." Other Caribbean media fol-
lowed this line of attack. In early October
1983, the Guardian concluded that the PRG
"had abandoned freedom of choice and
slaughtered freedom of the press." The In-
ter-American Press Association also con-
demned the PRG for "stifling a free and
independent press" in Grenada.
This heated struggle eventually
crystallized in December 1980, in a case
brought againstthe PRG by the press before
the Inter-American Commission on Human
Rights (IACHR). The charges were: denying
the Grenadian electorate the right to vote,
suppression of the media, and the confisca-
tion of property without proper compensa-
tion (such as Express shares in the
Torchlight newspaper). In reply, the PRG
described the charges as premature and
without foundation. The PRG explained that
any delay in calling elections was due to the
need "to adopt measures necessary for the
maintenance of national security" since
there were mounting internal and external
attacks against "the young revolution." The
PRG also explained that the restrictions on
the press resulted from the "many distor-
tions" the newspaper carried. It promised to
develop a media policy and soon intro-
duced People's Law No. 18, which included
many restrictions against independent

publications. Up to the time of the PRG col-
lapse in October 1983, the IACHR had not
ruled in the case.
The Caribbean press strongly supported
the invasion of Grenada by the joint US-
OECS (Organization of Eastern Caribbean
States) forces. Clearly, the press enjoys a
strong advantage today. It sees itself as
being morally enhanced by the widespread
support for the invasion reported from Gre-
nada itself. Opposition to the invasion came
from some sources-unions, academics,
journalists and churchmen-and this op-
position has also occupied the columns
and news pages of the Caribbean press. Its
quantity, however, has been very much less
than that favoring the invasion. Editorially,
the press has consistently rejected such
opposition.

Burnham vs. the Free Press
Guyana's president, Forbes Burnham, and
his ruling People's National Congress (PNC)
have opted for a policy of "cooperative so-
cialism." The PNC has its own party organ,
the New Nation. The government also
controls the only other daily, The Chronicle,
and the radio station. While the two news-
papers receive adequate supplies of news-
print, the opposition People's Progressive
Party (PPP) Mirror and other independent
publications face heavy licensing re-
strictions on newsprint importation, with
the effect that both the Mirror and Catholic
Standard are now subjected to reduced and
sporadic issues. Underlying this is the
Guyanese government's policies of "party
paramountcy" and "development support
communication." Party paramountcy, in ef-
fect, has meant that Burnham's party, the
PNC, has political influence superior to that
of the executive over the legislature. Devel-
opmental support communication as a me-
dia doctrine means that the media should
operate to support the developmental goals
of the government. The information im-
plications from both policies have formed a
large part of the current unrest in Guyana.
In the last five years especially, the private
media and at least two heads of government
in the Caribbean (Seaga and Adams) have
mounted substantial criticisms of the Burn-
ham regime. But Burnham's PNC itself
came into power under questionable condi-
tions. First, the British and American gov-
ernments collaborated in bringing pressure
on Premier Cheddi Jagan's ruling PPR with
the result that in October 1953, soon after
the general elections, the British suspended
the Guyanese constitution on the grounds
that the PPP was turning Guyana "into a
communist state."
Burnham, who was in the PPP under
Jagan, broke away in 1955 and founded the
PNC, which eventually formed a coalition
with a small business-supported party to
form the government in 1964. Since then a
series of internal and external investigations

18/CArBBEAN REVIEW

reported widespread electoral malpractices
and media suppression as Burnham con-
tinues in power. The Guyana Human Rights
Association is just one of the many local
groups which have also documented spe-
cific human rights' violations ranging from
police brutality to suppression of the inde-
pendent press. International pressure
against Burnham came from the interna-
tional committee of the British Labour
Party, which in January 1980 called on the
British government to stop all aid to Guyana
because of its "undemocratic practices"
and "repression of political opposition by
press censorship, manipulation of the me-
dia, attacks on trade union activities, and a
proliferation of party-controlled paramili-
tary groups often linked with 'bizarre re-
ligious sects.'"
Three months later four British-based
human rights groups sent a memorandum
to the Commonwealth asking for an investi-
gation into "the continuing negation of
human rights and political freedom" in
Guyana. These complaints were also aired
by the Washington-based Council of Hemi-
spheric Affairs and a group of 17 prominent
British labor and political leaders, including
11 members of parliament. An official re-
port by the US State Department heavily
criticized the Burnham government for "en-
couraging police brutality and suppression
of expression." Within the Commonwealth
Caribbean too, a number of organizations
joined in loud protests against Burnham's
oppressive media policies.
The private media also launched a per-
sistent barrage of attacks on Burnham, is-
suing editorial after editorial in the last five
years pounding Burnham and the PNC for
"stifling freedom of the press and staging
fraudulent elections." The Guardian and
Express rolled out a total of 43 critical edi-
torials and commentaries. There is no
doubt that the private media are up in arms
against Burnham and his "cooperative so-
cialism" in the same way they were against
Bishop and his PRG.
More recently, the attack has revolved
around the Burnham government's pres-
sures on the 79-year-old weekly Catholic
Standard. In 1982 some of his government
ministers unleashed five writs in ten days
against the Standard. The Guardian edi-
torialized: "Freedom in Guyana is on its
deathbed.... What else can we say when
even harmless gifts of newsprint to the
Catholic Standard are refused entry.... In
both Guyana and Grenada, human rights
and press freedom are alike being tram-
pled." In February 1983 the CPBA launched
a "defense of the Standard" fund to ensure
that "Burnham must be made to fail in this
attempt to extinguish the one spark of free-
dom that remains in Guyana." The CPBA
has also arranged shipments of newsprint
to the Standard. The intensified pressures
against the Standard were linked to the

strong protests by the paper against the
PNC for the murder in July 1979 of a Jesuit
priest (reporter) covering a demonstration
against the PNC.
Burnham has been fighting back. In
1979 he established a propaganda and agi-
tation department in his PNC. This he even-
tually scrapped in favor of sprucing up the
government's Ministry of Information under
Ptolemy Reid, who has insisted that no
amount of pressure will detract Guyana
from its socialist programs. The PNC also
mounted a stiff attack against the regional
news agency, CANA, for highlighting "sen-
sational and often unverifiable news stories
which tended to tarnish the image of
Guyana, its government, its ruling party,
and its prime minister." As they did with
Bishop's reactions, the private media high-
lighted this PNC reaction in its news
columns.
Three months later, the PNC government
repeated its attack against CANA and called
for the setting up of its own Guyana News
Service. During this sharp conflict between
the PNC and CANA, the private media de-
nied that the latter was involved with revolu-
tionary groups. This was a particularly
hostile period between the media and the
PNC, which faced a general election a few
months later (December 1980). When
asked at that time why he, as an advocate of
human rights, was not commenting on
Burnham's violations, Bishop replied that
Grenada had "very good relations with
Guyana" and that he was "not going to
make any statement on their internal
affairs."

Manley vs. the Free Press
Michael Manley's socialist administration
(People's National Party) and the Jamaican
private media maintained a constant infor-
mation struggle between 1975 and 1980.
The persistent criticisms of the leading Ja-
maican daily, the 150-year-old Gleaner,
were such that one morning in September
1979, Manley led some of his cabinet minis-
ters in a protest march in front of the
Gleaner offices in Kingston-an unprece-
dented display in the Commonwealth Ca-
ribbean. In this protest Manley found an
active supporter in the small Marxist Work-
ers' Party (MWP) of Jamaica and its news
organ, Struggle. Manley has since de-
scribed the Gleaner as "one of the most
corrupt journals publishing in the English
language."
The PNP-vs-the Gleaner information
struggle in Jamaica reflected the wider
struggle between the private media and so-
cialist-oriented groups in the Caribbean. It
also brought into sharp Caribbean focus
the convergent pressures of the Inter-Ameri-
can Press Association, the Caribbean Pub-
lishers and Broadcasters Association, and
even the Columbia University Graduate
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CATrBBEAN rEVIEW/19

mong the peoples who inhabited the
Antilles prior to the discovery of
America, the Tainos of the island of
Hispaniola achieved the highest level of de-
velopment. Archaeologists have unearthed
and studied thousands of objects which re-
veal a society comparable to some of the
early neolithic societies of ancient Europe.
Records left by early chroniclers about the
native groups which inhabited the islands
and territories of the circum-Caribbean
show that at some point in their social evo-
lution the Tainos started developing cultural
singularities which eventually distinguished
them from the South American jungle peo-
ples of the Orinoco and Amazon, from
which they originated.
The theory of South American origin,
which is now undisputed, is supported by
similarities in language, use of tobacco,
housing construction techniques, cultiva-
tion of maize and cassava (yuca), use of the
hammock, construction and use of canoes,
and, above all, by the numerous similarities
in, and identities of, ceramic styles. The Tai-
nos' cultural uniqueness is revealed by
many objects not found in South American
cultures, such as three-cornered stones
which had religious and economic uses,
and large stone hoops, still of unknown use.

3,000 Years of Migration
It is not clear what prompted the first native
groups to migrate from the tropical forests
of South America to the islands of the Carib-
bean more than 2,000 years BC. We do
know that the process was slow and spo-
radic, covering four clearly different mi-
gratory waves. The first migrants were
people of a conch culture who made their
homes in natural shelters (such as caves
and overhangs on the banks of rivers,
swamps, inlets and coves) where they fished
or collected most of their food. They were
neither farmers nor potters. Traditional ar-

Frank Moya Pons is executive director of the
Fondo Para el Avance de las Ciencias So-
ciales, and director of the Museo de las Casas
Reales in the Dominican Republic. Judith C.
Faerron is assistant editor of CR The article is
a translated excerpt from Arte Taino, Banco
Central de la Repdblica Dominicana, 1983.

20/CAI?BBEAN eviEW

..

The Tainos of Hispaniola

The Island's First Inhabitants

By Frank Moya Pons
Translated by Judith C. Faerron

chaeologists called them "Ciboneys," using
the name discovered by chronicler Bar-
tolom6 de las Casas at the start of the 16th
century, when there were still a few of these
Indians living on the far west side of Cuba, at
Punta Guanahatabibes, and at Punta
Tibur6n on the west side of Hispaniola,
where they had been exiled by later arrivals.
They are now known as "pre-ceramist ar-
chaic groups."
The second group, traditionally known as
the Igneri, were excellent ceramicists. They
came from the great Arawak stock which
still lives in the tropical forests of the South
American jungles. Today they are called Sal-
adoids (from sites found in Saladero, Vene-
zuela). These Indians eventually occupied
almost all of the Lesser Antilles, plus various
parts of Puerto Rico and Hispaniola, dis-
placing or absorbing the Ciboney popula-
tions they encountered.
The third period covered a long migratory
wave of Arawak groups from Venezuela and
the Guianas, who, in spreading out, virtually
eliminated the remaining Ciboneys of the
Antilles, and contributed to a more uniform
population of the islands. This movement
began just prior to the Christian era and
lasted some 1,000 years, during which in-
dependent cultural traditions evolved, and
what is known as the Taino culture began to
flourish. By 700 AD this culture's charac-
teristics were well defined.
The fourth and last period began some-
time around the 11th century, with a new
migration of groups also belonging to the
Arawak stock, but possessing cultural char-
acteristics different from those of the Taino
settlers. They were the Caribs: great navi-
gators, well trained in the use of the bow and
arrow, and eaters of human flesh, who
wasted no time in assimilating the remain-
ing Igneri of Trinidad and the Lesser An-
tilles, hunting and eating the men and
enslaving the women, who served as cooks,
weavers and potters. By the time Columbus
discovered America, the Caribs had spread
throughout the Lesser Antilles, making fre-
quent incursions into Puerto Rico and the
eastern part of Hispaniola, attacking the
Taino settlers and maintaining constant
seiges on their villages.

Taino Lifestyle
The Tainos, meanwhile, had become farm-
ers without losing their fishing and hunting
skills, thus holding on to the cultural traits
which had proven useful in adapting to the
environment of the Antilles. Their main
legacy to the Dominican society was the
introduction of a number of plants which
they evidently brought from South America
during early migrations. The most impor-
tant is the cassava, from which they made
cazabi (cassava bread), using a compli-
cated procedure similar to that still used
today. The Spaniards called cassava "bread
of the Indies," and the lack of wheat flour
forced them to eat it in a variety of ways.
Another important crop was maiz (this
word made its way to the continent, where
the Spanish adopted it). Other staple vege-
tables in the Tainos' diet were batatas
(sweet potatoes), lerenes (tubers), peanuts,
yams and peppers.
Most of their protein came from the wild-
life they hunted and fished. Despite the
large number of inhabitants on the island at
the time of the Spaniards' arrival, there was
still an abundance of small rodents such as
jutia (solendon paradoxus) and guinea
pigs, whose meat was prized by the Tainos.
They also hunted iguana and snake, which
they ate with pleasure. Bird hunting was
evidently left to the youngsters, who
climbed trees to catch parrots, doves and
others. Fish, both salt and freshwater, were
abundant, and the Indians used nets and
hooks made out of fish bones to catch
shrimp, crabs and fish. There is evidence
that the Tainos also liked to eat worms,
snails, lambi (conch), bats, spiders and in-
sects. They used harpoons to hunt the
manati which abounded off parts of the is-
land's coasts.
In addition to farming, hunting and fish-
ing, Taino men spent a lot of time building
their homes, which they called buhios
(huts). There were two types: The most
common was the circular style with a cone-
shaped roof. The roof and walls were made
from plants, vines and yaguas (palm
leaves). The other style, made out of the
same materials, was rectangular and gener-
ally larger, and was usually made for caci-

ques (Indian chiefs).
The women made objects out of clay,
such as pots, plates, bread pans, jugs, vats
and other cooking utensils. Large numbers
of these objects have been found in archae-
ological sites. There is some indication that
basket weaving was also widely practiced,
and they even made small statues out of
cotton. All ceramic and woven goods were
made without the benefit of a wheel or
loom, as these tools were unknown to the
Tainos. They also made vases, spoons and
glasses using gourds from thehiguero (cal-
abash tree), which they planted specifically
for this purpose. Canoes were built from a
single tree trunk, usually from the ma-
hogany or ceiba tree. The construction of
clubs from palm trees was men's work, as
was the making of stone hatchets which
had various uses, including military. Fire
was generally saved, but when it did go out it
was started again by rubbing a smooth twig
against two splinters from the guazima
tree.

Family and Social Structure
Most of the Tainos were monogamous, al-
though polygyny was common among
caciques and other leaders. Chronicler
Gonzalo Fernando de Oviedo wrote: "On
this island each had his wife and no more,
and the caciques or kings [had] three or
four or as many as they wanted." This sug-
gests social stratification based on eco-
nomic wealth and political power. Appar-
ently the families of both the commoners
and the leaders were very large, and many
couples and their children lived within the
same hut. Central authority was in the
hands of the father, and the family structure
appears to have been predominantly pa-
triarchal. Inheritance and succession, how-
ever, were matrilineal: in important families,
when the father or cacique died, inheritance
went to the oldest son, but if there was no
son it went to the oldest son or daughter of
the dead man's sister, because that blood-
line could be accurately traced. Clans were
also organized matrilineally, as far as suc-
cession of power and inheritance of goods
were concerned. The Tainos were ex-
ogamous and horrified at incest, which they

CARBBEAN 10ev/21

viewed as a portent of "bad death." Social
punishment for incest was ostracism
("hated by his own and by strangers"), the
worst stigma which could befall an indi-
vidual belonging to a society where com-
munity life was the only possible universe.
The number of children in each family
varied from three to five. They lived with
their parents, apparently in the home of the
paternal grandparents, and were educated
by their mothers, fathers and clan elders,
education being both a family and social
responsibility. Mothers were expected to
nurture and raise the children, the fathers to
teach them customs and skills. Boys were
instructed in farming and other techniques,
and girls to do tasks needed in the home.
Thus, the children learned to live according
to a division of labor based on sexual differ-
entiation. This division placed more work on
women than men: in addition to weaving
hammocks, they were expected to cook,
prepare the cassava bread, and handcraft all
of the domestic tools.
Men took care of planting, fishing and
hunting, as well as the construction of huts,
which sometimes had to be large enough to
house ten couples and their children. In their
free time, men traded spare homemade
goods at fairs held in the central plaza,
known as a batey. Las Casas wrote that
trading went on at great length and that the
actual value of the items traded was not
always equal. The Tainos used no currency,
unlike the Incas, who used coca leaves as
money, and the Aztecs, who used cocoa
beans.

One of the most notable features of the
Taino society was its high degree of social
solidarity, especially among clan members.
Both Las Casas and Oviedo noted that
there were rarely quarrels within clans. The
social structure itself encouraged tribal
unity. Being a matrilineal organization with
a tradition of patrilocal residence, ties be-
tween clans, groups and tribes increased
and, theoretically, strengthened as families
grew and exogamous marriages increased.
Marriage took place through a ceremony
apparently equivalent to the buying of the
bride. Gifts, usually necklaces made from
pebbles and bones, were bestowed on
members of the bride's family. The violation
of an engagement agreement was cause for
serious-and sometimes armed-conflict
between the two clans, according to Las
Casas. Fighting could also be prompted by
territorial raids. Las Casas wrote that the
Indians were careful not to hunt animals
from another man's land, or fish in waters
belonging to someone else.

Political Organization
The Tainos were united in their battle
against the Caribs, who represented their
greatest threat of extinction. The Caribs in-
vaded in hopes of eating the men and en-
slaving the women to use them as breeders
of children who would then be castrated,
fattened and eaten. All of the Tainos on the
big islands were well aware of the danger
posed by the Caribs. Columbus was warned
in both Cuba and the Bahamas about their
cannibalism and fierceness. It is possible

that this common threat served as a catalyst
in the banding together of the various tribes
of Hispaniola. While a formal confederation
seems to have been on the verge of forma-
tion, it was apparently interrupted by the
Spaniards' arrival. However, there were in-
tertribal marriages between the rulers of at
least two groups, suggesting that the politi-
cal tendency was to establish dynastic links
which would eventually lead to unity.
Oviedo wrote that there were five con-
federate Indian tribes on Hispaniola at the
time of the Spaniards' arrival, headed by
caciques Guarionex, Caonabo, Behechio,
Goacanagari and Cayacoa. "Guarionex had
all the flatlands and ruled more than 70
leagues in the center of the island. Behechio
had the western part of the land and the
province of Xaragua... Goacanagari ruled
the northern part... Cayacoa had the east-
ern part ..., was one of the biggest rulers
and his people were the bravest because of
their proximity to the Caribs ... Caonabo
... [who] had his kingdom in the moun-
tains, had been a Carib principal; he mar-
ried Anacaona, sister of Behechio ...
Some Caribs were apparently accepted
by the Tainos, possibly in exchange for hav-
ing given up cannibalism. On the eastern
part of the island, where the Ciguayo lived,
the bow and arrow were used, indicating
that they may have been the result of mixing
between Caribs and Tainos. Some of these
natives had forgotten their own language
and spoke that of the Tainos, or a mixture of
the two. Las Casas wrote that in the
province of Macorix Arriba, Indians "spoke
a strange language, almost barbaric." Al-
though they used bows and arrows, they
had lost the Carib custom of poisoning the
darts with the caustic latex of the guao
plant. They also liked to paint their bodies
black and red to appear more fearsome in
battle, and they let their hair grow long, as
did the Caribs. These were the Indians who
attacked Columbus during his first stop on
the island, at a place he called "Gulf of
Arrows."
Political power was exercised with little or
no democracy. Decisions to go to war were
made by the leaders, without popular par-
ticipation. Prominent among these leaders
was the behique or buhitubu, who had
priestly duties and also wielded consider-
able power over all tribe members, not only
because he acted as intermediary between
the men and their gods, but also because of
his position as medicine man. Without his
approval, the Tainos would not undertake
any important activity, according to Oviedo.
It is possible that behiques were chosen
based on their skills as interpreters of
dreams and on the accuracy of their predic-
tions, both activities widely practiced
among the Tainos. The caciques paid close
attention to them, and these witch doctors
apparently had great influence in the tribal
government.

22/CAIBBEAN ev1iW

The government was headed by the caci-
ques and their assistants, community lead-
ers known as nitaynos. It is not known
exactly who the nitaynos were. They may
have been the caciques' closest maternal
relatives, or important clan chiefs who, be-
cause of their influence over tribe members,
formed the necessary link between the caci-
ques and the people. The first theory would
indicate a society stratified into two classes:
the first the owner of all the land, which was
worked by the second under the yolk of ser-
vitude. However, this model would have re-
quired institutions of social coercion, which
do not appear to have existed.
Most probably, the Taino society's politi-
cal organization was based on the second
model: a cacique assisted by a council of
elderly chiefs from confederate tribes. This
would explain how land was owned in com-
mon and worked by all tribe members. The
cacique's legitimacy must have been deter-
mined through his acceptance by clan
chiefs. His wealth, which permitted him to
support six or seven wives and their chil-
dren, did not stem from taxes, but from work
performed by a body of servants, called
naborias, who were socially below the Tai-
nos. They may have been descendents of
the Igneri, who the Tainos had conquered.
This social differentiation between the
leaders and common people did not hinder
the existence of a "primitive communism."
On the contrary: the naboria, as an isolated
layer dedicated to the support of the caci-
ques and their families, allowed the bulk of
the populace to share goods and services
collectively rather than work to support their
rulers.

Myth and Religious Expression
The natives of Hispaniola spoke a common
language and shared a common religious
creed. Their South American origin was so
remote that it was forgotten, and they con-
sidered themselves the original inhabitants
of the island. This is evident in their myths
about creation, which also reflect their deep
identification with their environment. Some
of these myths were compiled by Fray
Ram6n Pane, at the request of Columbus,
who wanted to learn more about the Indians'
religious beliefs.
Panes sources told him that the sun and
the moon had come out of a cave called
Jovovava. At that time there was no sea, and
the human race lived in two mountains
called Cacibajagua and Amayauna. From
Cacibajagua "emerged most of the people
who inhabited the island. When they lived in
that cave, they kept watch at night, and they
put in charge someone called Macocael." It
was his job to watch over those leaving the
cave in order to divide them over the land.
But one day he was late in returning. He was
caught by the sun's rays and turned into
stone near the door. Legend has it that oth-
ers were likewise caught by the sun: one was

.. ..... ...

Photos from Arte Taino. Page 20: vessel. Opposite page: three-cornered ceremonial stone.
Top: wooden and cotton idols; Above: cacique's stool.

turned into a nightingale while gathering
herbs at sunrise and others were turned into
trees calledjobos [see "A Taino Tale," page
24].
Because of these events, one Indian
named Guaguyona became angry and de-
cided to leave. He convinced all the women
to abandon their husbands and go with
him. Their children were deserted near a
stream, where they cried out in hunger and
turned into frogs. The women were also
eventually abandoned "and in that manner,
all the men were left without women."
The men's yearning for women made
them go out in search of footprints on rainy
days, to no avail, until one day when they
went to the river to wash and saw "a type of
person, neither male nor female, man nor
woman ..." moving through the branches

of certain trees. They tried to catch these
beings, but they "slipped away as if they
were eels." The cacique sent for victims of a
disease called caracaracol (similar to
mange), so that they could catch the
strange creatures with their rough hands.
"After they had trapped them, they met to
discuss how they could turn them into
women, as they had neither male nor female
sex." They bound their hands and feet and
placed woodpeckers on their bodies. "The
birds, thinking they were trees ... pecked
away at the spot where the female sex
organs usually are. This is how the Indians
obtained women, according to the old peo-
ple." From that moment on, and with the
sun's permission, men and women were
able to move about in broad daylight, ac-
Continued on page 47

CAIBBEAN FEVIE/23

_ _____.__
r-"

he innocent and docile-appearing
natives of Hispaniola-the Tainos-
rose in bloody insurrection against
the Spaniards on 27 March 1495. In order to
prevent further troubles, Columbus decided
to gather more information about these
people. Not trusting his own soldiers, who
had provoked hostility, he asked a CatalBn
priest, Ram6n Pane, to study the Taino way
of life and report on their beliefs and
customs.
Pane was a Jeronymite priest, who appar-
ently came to America as chaplain to the
Spaniards rather than as missionary to the
natives. Obedient to Columbus's request,
he spent some 18 months living among the
Tainos in two villages of north-central His-
paniola. Before returning to Spain in 1496,
Columbus requested Pane to write his ob-
servations, resulting in a remarkable man-
uscript: a short but complete eyewitness
account of life among the first inhabitants of
the Caribbean's Greater Antilles.
The accuracy of Pane's description of the
beliefs of these aboriginal inhabitants has
been verified by other scholars. While Carib-
beanists have generally viewed the descrip-
tion as a part of the historical testimony on
the Spanish conquest, it now appears that
the simplicity of Pane's narration masks an
anthropological and religious document of
considerable importance.
The opening paragraph of Pane's narra-
tion is an explanation of Taino social organ-
ization. The translation offered below
reconstructs this myth as it would have
been narrated by the Tainos. Pane's obser-
vations are separated from the text by pa-
rentheses, and his third person interjections
have been marked with brackets. The En-
glish meaning of the Taino names has been
taken from Jose Juan Arrom's Relaci6n
acerca de las antigiedades de los indios,
(Mexico, Siglo XIII, 1974), and is rendered
here in capital letters.

THE ISLAND [Hispaniola] has a section
called Caonao / in which there is a moun-
tain called Cauta / and it has two caves, /
Cacibajagua, CAVE OF THE JAGUA, and
Antonio M. Stevens-Arroyo teaches Puerto
Rican studies at Brooklyn College.

A Taino Tale

A Mythological Statement of Social Order

By Antonio M. Stevens-Arroyo

Amayauna, WITHOUT IMPORTANCE. /
From Cacibajagua came most of the peo-
ple who inhabit the island. / While still in
the caves, this people kept watch at night
/ and they put in charge someone called
Macocael, / HE OF THE EYES WHICH DO
NOT BLINK, / who [they say] was carried
off by the sun / because he returned to the
door late one day. / Since the sun had
carried him off on account of his poor
vigilance, / they shut the door. / Thus he
was turned into stone near the door, / The
reason that Macocael stayed awake and
kept watch / was to see whence he would
send away and divide the people / and it
seems his delay was a great mistake. /
[they say that] afterwards others went out
to fish / and they were made prisoners by
the sun / and they were turned into [trees
that they call]jobos / (and which we
would call cherry plum trees). / It came to
pass that one man named Guahayona,
OUR PRIDE, / said to another named
Cahubaba, ANCIENT MOTHER, / that
they should go harvest [a plant called]
digo. / (with which they wash the body
when they go to bathe). / Cahubaba went
out before daybreak / and the sun over-
took him on the road / and he was turned
into the bird that sings in the morning, /
(like the nightingale) / and he is called
Cahubabael, SON OF THE ANCIENT
MOTHER. / When he saw that the one
sent out to gather digo did not return, /
Guahayona decided to leave the cave
called Cacibajagua.

Social Contract
The caves are mythical. The Tainos did not
live in caves, but there is ample evidence
that caves were used as sanctuaries, where
religious artifacts were reserved for ritual
purposes. As the pioneer work of Arrom has
shown, the names of the caves disclose their
mythological function. Thejagua, (genipa
americana) produces an edible fruit whose
juices yield a black vegetable color the Tai-
nos used for body painting. These body
designs represented the totems and clans of
the Indian society. Hence, Cacibajagua is
the place of origin for all the Taino peoples
who share a similar culture of the totems

and clan functions found among them.
Amayauna, "Cave Without Importance," ex-
plains the existence of the rest of humanity.
All human beings share a common origin,
the myth tells us, but only the history of our
believers is important. Thus, the two caves
represent the same kind of mythological
device found in Genesis 2h8-34, where the
ancient Hebrew scribes distinguish among
their Semite neighbors by making some the
descendants of Lot, Abraham's kinsman,
and others the sons of Ishmael, the step-
brother of Isaac.
The name Macocael-"He of the Eyes
Which Do Not Blink"-can be understood
in terms of the animals of the pre-Colum-
bian Antilles. Reptiles and certain birds have
transparent eyelids so that they seem not to
blink. Moreover, reptiles and many serpents
remain motionless for long periods. In this
way, their immobility camoflauges their
presence, since their skin color and texture
enables them to simulate rocks. The Tainos
employed reptiles as totems, especially in
the zemies, or three-pointed rocks, that
characterized their religion.
But who was Macocael? Obviously he
was supposed to stay at the entrance of the
cave, but when he wandered off in the sun-
light he was punished by being transformed
into a rock. While overstrenuous activity in
the tropical sun is apt to cause dizziness or
sunstroke, it is more likely that the myth is
addressing an ethical and social phe-
nomenon rather than a scientific fact. In
most prescientific societies, social and cul-
tural organization is subordinated to a pre-
existent natural order that is perceived as
divine in origin. Thus it is not the heat of the
sun that is the cause of the punishment, but
rather the failure of Macocael to coordinate
his behavior with the divinely ordained so-
cial norms.
The form of his punishment compares
the power of reptiles, which face the sun
without blinking, to ordinary humans, who
cannot do so. The Tainos apparently per-
ceived that before the establishment of their
social order, human beings could merge
with other orders of created things-rocks,
trees and animals-just as reptiles today
can still reproduce the qualities of inani-

mate stone. With the "sin" of Macocael, the
ability of humans to cross this threshold is
lost. Nature is shown here to be in the pro-
cess of becoming an adversary, and the
subsequent unfolding of the myth extends
this loss of paradisal innocence to the plant
and animal orders.
From this analysis, we gain a measure of
understanding on the symbolism of reptile
totems. The myth also suggests that certain
natural formations, or the stones carved
with the Taino pictographs, would be placed
at the entrance to Taino holy caves as re-
minders of the supremacy of ritual over po-
litical power. It may be supposed that
certain totem motifs of reptiles and birds
served to recall the myth of Macocael,
whose weakness caused the loss of power
human beings once shared with the rest of
creation.
The myth also reveals the reason for the
punishment. Macocael was obliged to keep
watch so he could "send away and divide the
people." This is the function of Taino rulers,
the caciques. Macocael's violation of the
vigil is described as a delay in the fulfillment
of his duties as cacique. It is here that the
myth describes what might be called "the
Taino social contract": the cacique derives
his power "to send and to divide" from his
primordial function of protecting the peo-
ple in worship. Violation of the cacique's
religious duties causes him to lose his au-
thority, forcing the people to seek another
ruler. All of this occurred on the mountain,
Cauta, which must be considered the Taino
Mount Sinai, the place where the divine law
of social organization was promulgated. It
may be supposed that the myth explains an
initiation rite for a young cacique, who
would have to maintain a long vigil under
difficult circumstances to merit his charge
as ruler. Inability to pass through the ritual
would likely have invoked the failure of Mac-
ocael and have justified the delegitimization
of ambitions to be cacique. We have direct
testimony from Pane and chronicler Bar-
tolome de las Casas that similar vigils were
a common part of the cacique's rule.

Irresponsibility and Punishment
Mythological analysis can also be applied to

CAIBBEAN PVIeW/25

the fishermen. They leave the cave to search
for food in the dangerous task of deep-sea
fishing on the tropical ocean. But instead of
fulfilling their duty to provide food for oth-
ers, they surrender to the temptation to
merely gather fruit for themselves. Hunting
for food in a collective effort represents a
substantial cultural advance over a simple
gathering of wild fruit. The fishermen are
guilty of regressing into a primitive life-
style, abandoning the discipline and self-
sacrifice required of a more developed so-
cial order.
Thejobo, (spondias lutea) is native to
the Caribbean. The tree produces a sweet
yellow fruit. Both its sweetness and its
bright color are symbols of seduction. The
fishermen demonstrate the height of irre-
sponsibility-self-gratification by gluttony.
While they have not violated a ritual, the
fishermen have sinned against their social
function as providers of food. The myth
suggests, then, that the Tainos dis-
tinguished between a strictly religious ta-
boo such as the vigil of Macocael, and social
irresponsibility as in the case of the fish-
ermen. Both are considered wrong, and
both are punished.
The theme of mobility-immobility can be
found in the mythology of many peoples.
Macocael moves when he should not, and is
punished by being made immobile. His
punishment is to perform a task that he
refused to fulfill when he was free. The fish-
ermen are rendered immobile by being
transformed into jobo trees; they are
punished with becoming forever what was a

CAP BBCAN

is available in

Microform.

passing indulgence. In both cases, the
punishment of immobility may reflect a
symbolic expression of ostracism, the se-
verest penalty of Taino law.
Cahubaba or Cahubabael is the third per-
sonage in this episode of the caves. It seems
strange that a man should have the name of
Cahubaba, which means "The Ancient
Mother." Perhaps the form given at the end
of the chapter, Cahubabael, "Son of the An-
cient Mother," should be read here also. In
any case, it seems that he represents un-
spoiled nature in its simplest and unaltered
state. Generated only by Mother Earth,
Cahubabael has not acquired the skills of

The Tainos distinguished
between a strictly religious
taboo and social irre-
sponsibility.

culture which teach humans to turn nature
to their own purposes. The digo he
searches for is a plant, probably one of vari-
ous forms of furcaea, which produces a
foam that until recently was utilized by Do-
minican and Puerto Rican farmers as soap.
The importance of the digo is a cultural and
religious one. Without it, the body markings
traced with the juice of thejagua and the
bixa orachiote (bixa orellana), could not
be easily removed. Thus the peoples were
unable to alter their clan and totemic mark-
ings, a necessary convention that accom-
panies the marriage exchange.
Cahubabael is expected to bring the digo
back to the Tainos in the cave so that they
may be able to sanctify their marriages with
applications of new totem and clan mark-
ings. As a creature of the earth, Cahubabael
apparently knows where to find the plant,
but without the shared parentage of other
humans, he does not understand how to
extract its cleansing essences. The punish-
ment of Cahubabael is due to his inability to
finish his mission under the cover of
darkness. With the approach of dawn, he is
transformed into a bird. Unlike Macocael
and the fishermen, who were made immo-
bile, Cahubabael is punished by perpetual
mobility. As a bird, he belongs neither to the
trees of earth nor to the air; he is perpetually
in motion between both, thus recapitulating
in himself all the animals of the earth.
Since the digo is the symbol of purifica-
tion and marriage rites, Cahubabael may
represent the shaman or behique of Taino
religion. His punishment makes it impossi-
ble for him to return to the tribe with the
digo. Moreover, as the bird that sings to the
rising sun, he has ironically become the
symbol of his mistake. In this he resembles
the others in the myth who have lost their

capacity to participate in the human order.
It is not entirely clear what taboo
Cahubabael has violated. If daylight repre-
sents revelation, one possible explanation
might be that as shaman, Cahubabael has
allowed some secret rite to be seen by the
uninitiated, thus betraying his profession.
This indiscretion merits punishment of os-
tracism from his clan. Like the bird, the
discredited shaman has an ambiguous ex-
istence. He belongs to the tribe without
being fully integrated into a clearly defined
social order.
In this episode there is a punishment for
misbehavior in each of the three social divi-
sions of labor in Taino society. Macocael
represents the cacique class that misuses
the role of leadership; the fishermen betray
the responsibilities of the naborias or work-
ers; Cahubabael is the behique who betrays
the secrets of his profession.

Leadership
We know that during the process of migra-
tion from the Orinoco Delta north and
westward to the Greater Antilles, the Ara-
huakan-speaking peoples of the continent
became the Tainos of the Caribbean. The
myth describes tribal leadership in some
remote time when "we of thejagua" be-
came distinct from "they without impor-
tance." We are given a symbolic tale of the
formation of the people in terms of a discov-
ery of group leadership. The initial efforts to
take the people out of the cave of thejagua
and into civilization as inhabitants of the
bohio proved to be unsuccessful. Macocael
lusted for power and lost his authority, while
the fishermen succumbed to gluttony and
disappeared from the tribe. Also unsuc-
cessful was the effort to control social and
clan functions by washing away traces of
jagua painting with the digo. The ambi-
tions of the three different classes acting
separately proved unable to provide lead-
ership and the dynamism of change.
It was left to Guahayona to organize the
migration. His exploits were found in other
sections of Pane's narrative. Guahayona
was later shown to overcome the undue
striving for personal power and learned to
resist the temptation to seek immediate
gratification of gluttony. Finally, he was
careful to preserve his shamanistic powers.
Thus by describing the failures of the social
order of Taino life when they perform sepa-
rately, the myth emphasizes the need for
cooperation among the segments of soci-
ety. This social unity is exemplified in the
behavior of Guahayona, "Our Pride."
This mythological statement of subtle
symbolism and powerful imagery about
social organization brings us a greater ap-
preciation of the Tainos' sense of wonder at
life in the islands, a legacy that ought not be
lost on us who today attempt to match so-
cial organization to the rhythms of nature in
the Caribbean. O

26/CARBBEAN FEVITW

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A NEW VOLUME ON THE

CARIBBEAN BASIN IN

GLOBAL PERSPECTIVE

Confrontation in the

Caribbean

Basin

LATIN AMERICAN MONOGRAPH AND
DOCUMENT SERIES
8

Alan Adelman
Reid Reading
Editors
International Perspectives on
Security, Sovereignty and Survival

This volume presents an alternative to the majority of essay collections on social change in Central America and
the Caribbean which tend to polarize discussion around solidarity versus national security perspectives. The con-
tributions included expose readers to a diversity of substance and interpretations concerning the major social,
economic, and political forces influencing intraregional and interregional relationships in the Caribbean Basin.

CONTENTS
Alan Adelman, Introduction
Margaret Daly Hayes, Political Change in El Salvador and Guatemala; Richard Millett, Comment
Harold D. Sims, Revolutionary Nicaragua; Mauricio Solatin, Comment
Vaughan A. Lewis, Political Change and Crisis in the English-Speaking Caribbean;
Anthony P. Maingot, Comment
Rene Herrera and Mario Ojeda G6mez, The Policy of Mexico in the Caribbean Basin;
Susan Kaufman Purcell, Comment
Carlos Antonio Romero M6ndez, The Role of Venezuela in the Caribbean since 1958;
John D. Martz, Comment
Jorge I. Dominguez, Cuba's Relations with Caribbean and Central American Countries;
Hernan Yanes Quintero, Comment
Howard J. Wiarda, The United States and Latin America: Change and Continuity;
James M. Malloy, Comment
Jiri Valenta and Virginia Valenta, Soviet Strategy in the Caribbean Basin; Cole Blasier, Comment
Wolf Grabendorff, The Role of Western Europe in the Caribbean Basin;
Gerhard Drekonja-Kornat, Comment
Reid R. Reading, Conclusion

University of Pittsburgh Prepayment requested: $9.50
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4E04 Forbes Quadrangle TOTAL $10.50
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15260 Please make checks payable to:
University of Pittsburgh.

The Rise and Fall of the Maya

Mysteries of an Ancient Civilization

Reviewed by Prudence M. Rice

""v \^,\

The Classic Maya Collapse, T. Culbert,
ed. 549 p. University of New Mexico
Press, Albuquerque, 1983 (2nd ed.).
$14.95 (paper).

Lowland Maya Settlement Patterns, W.
Ashmore, ed. 465 p. University of New
Mexico Press, Albuquerque, 1981. $32.50.

The Origins of Maya Civilization, R.E.W.
Adams, ed. 465 p. University of New
Mexico Press, Albuquerque, 1978.
$10.95 (paper).

There is something compellingly enigmatic
about the ancient culture of the Maya. Its
towering ruins, glimpsed through a snarl of
vines and palms, have been described
since the time of the 16th century Spanish
chroniclers, but very basic questions con-
cerning the rise, florescence and decline of
this spectacular civilization have yet to be
definitively answered.
Ancient Maya peoples occupied roughly
120,000 square miles of territory that now
comprises Guatemala, Belize, the Yucatan
peninsula of Mexico, and western Honduras
and El Salvador. This broad expanse is cus-
tomarily divided into highland (southern)
and lowland (northern) components. Great-
est attention has been devoted to the civi-
lization that developed in the densely
forested lowlands. Long characterized as
homogeneous, this lowland environment is

Prudence M. Rice teaches anthropology at
the University of Florida, and is a curator at the
Florida State Museum.

actually quite diverse. Vegetation, rainfall
and topography all vary on a north-south
gradient: from dry, stunted, thorn-and-
scrub in the flat Yucatan peninsula, to lush,
dense, high forest in the wet, hilly Pet6n
(Guatemala) and Belize. Areas of piney up-
lands, savanna grasslands and seasonal
swamps are interspersed in this deciduous
forest. In all its variants, though, the tropical
lowland forest presents seemingly insur-
mountable obstacles to a people such as the
Maya, who possessed only a stone age
technology.
The rise of Maya civilization is a complex
and poorly understood phenomenon, as
are the origins of most of the world's ancient
civilizations. The Maya, however, present an
unusual case for two reasons. First, they are
one of the few civilizations in all of human
history to have arisen in a tropical lowland
forest. Consequently, it is difficult to specify
the factors responsible for their rise. To what
extent did the same developmental trajecto-
ries of arid river valley civilizations, such as
those of the Nile or the Tigris-Euphrates of
Mesopotamia exist in the Maya forest, tra-
jectories that led to nucleated settlements,
political bureaucracies, socioeconomic dif-
ferentiation, and massive architectural and
artistic undertakings? What was the source
of power of the Maya leaders who ultimately
became divine or semi-divine kings? Trad-
ing savvy? Agricultural decision-making?
Religious charisma? Prowess in warfare?
Second, the antecedents of Maya civiliza-
tion are poorly known. The archaeological
record in the lowlands has not yielded the
same long occupational histories of the area

by preagricultural hunting-gathering peo-
ples, as are present elsewhere in Meso-
america. Only during the last few years have
several very early preceramic sites (lacking
in pottery and predating the abundant Pre-
classic pottery-bearing sites) been found in
coastal Belize and northern Yucatan. The
generally scanty evidence for such early
habitation hints that the lowlands were rela-
tively unoccupied until perhaps the second
millennium BC.
The Origins of Maya Civilization,
Lowland Maya Settlement Patterns and
The Classic Maya Collapse are monu-
mental tomes dealing with three of the most
fundamental research problems in the
study of the ancient civilization of the Maya
lowlands. The individual contributions are
synthetic treatments; and it is their depth,
combined with many maps, charts, line il-
lustrations, and excellent introductory and
summary chapters, that give the volumes
their encyclopedic character. They are ori-
ented primarily toward a specialist read-
ership, and thus the scholarly tone does not
make for light reading. Notwithstanding,
the articles are intelligible, occasionally
witty, and highly informative for an au-
dience of serious Mayaphiles. Although final
answers to questions concerning Maya ori-
gins, settlement systems, and collapse will
have to await a few more turns of the ar-
chaeologist's spade, these three volumes
are unparalleled reference works summariz-
ing knowledge of Maya archaeology to date.

The Beginnings
The Origins of Maya Civilization spells out

28/CArBBEAN I~EVIE

in detail the data and theories concerning
the early (Preclassic period, ca. 2500 BC to
AD 250) establishment of settlements in the
lowlands, the kinds of social interre-
lationships operative within and between
these sites, and the early ideological stimuli
between the lowlands and adjacent areas of
Mesoamerica-principally the Guatemala
highlands and the Olmec region of gulf
coastal Mexico. The two areas of the
lowlands which show the earliest manifesta-
tions of Maya occupation are the river val-
leys on the peripheries: the Pasi6n River
region in western Peten and the rivers of
Belize to the east. These areas yielded early
radiocarbon dates as well as artifacts sug-
gesting relations with regions adjacent to
the lowlands. Most famous of these, per-
haps, are the jade bloodletter from Seibal,
on the Pasi6n River, which indicates ties to
the Olmec culture, and the early pottery in
the upper Belize river valley, which suggests
contacts with sites in the highlands of El
Salvador.
Traditional reconstructions of pioneering
colonization in the lowlands, supported by
these site locations and materials, posit a
movement of slash-and-burn farmers who
migrated from peripheral areas along river-
courses into Peten and then northward into
Yucatan. Besides knowledge of horticulture
(maize, beans and squash) and pottery-
making, these migrants also exhibited a
propensity to construct low stone platforms
at certain locations. Thus, they established
the foundation for one of the singularly
splendid features of later Classic Maya civi-
lization, the temples and pyramids of the

large ceremonial centers. The pioneers took
advantage of the rivers not only as trans-
portation arteries but as sources of readily
available water, fertile soils and protein
resources.
Lowland riverine sites, as well as those in
the Peten interior, yielded radiocarbon dates
in the early and middle parts of the first
millennium BC. More recently, however, a
suite of even earlier radiocarbon dates from
Cuello, a site in northern Belize, has fallen
into the late third millennium BC. These
dates require major revision of the entire
framework of the earliest periods of Maya
prehistory. They also force attention to the
very early periods of occupation in the
lowlands, establishing a favorable context
for interpretation of the new data on pre-
ceramic sites found in virtually the same
area.
The volume addresses the role of art and
linguistics in tracing the influence of exter-
nal ties in the rise of Maya civilization. The
authors seem to agree that the impact of the
precocious Olmec on the Maya was indi-
rect, coming to the lowlands via the Pacific
coastal and highland regions to the south. A
second issue addressed concerns the rela-
tionship between population size, subsis-
tence and competition for land. On the
subject of warfare, an issue which is typically
shunted aside by Mayanists, it is argued that
population growth engendered hostile
competition between centers, and the pres-
sures of organizing for warfare after about
100 BC fostered sociopolitical status differ-
entiation. More importantly, the constant
skirmishing for land provided the basis for

achieving status and power among lowland
Maya leaders, and was continued formally
by means of institutionalized militarism
throughout the Classic period (AD
300-900).
These contributions call attention to cru-
cial issues in civilizational studies: how a
society sustains itself, protects itself, and
symbolizes its identity. Yet with respect to
the Maya in particular, there is a sense of
unfinished business in this volume. Maya
civilization, despite borrowing of elements
from adjacent non-Maya cultures, is
uniquely its own. But although the immedi-
ate antecedents of the iconographic and ar-
chitectural traits of Classic Maya civilization
are recognizable in Late Preclassic centers
in the lowlands, their crystallization into the
Classic style in the so-called "Protoclassic"
period is not squarely confronted by the
contributors. Not only do they sidestep the
strong role of external influences from Ka-
minaljuyu and Teotihuacan late in this criti-
cal period, but they leave in abeyance
weighty questions of the development of
Classic ideology, writing systems and
kingship.

Settlements
Lowland Maya Settlement Patterns pro-
vides extremely useful data reviews;
however in some respects the treatment as
a whole is less than satisfactory. Only three
chapters address topical issues, models or
themes, while the remainder consists of in-
troductory/background chapters and the
customary site and/or regional syntheses.
Little attention is given to the temporal di-

CAI?BBEAN 1VIEW/29

mension: How do settlements change
through time? Another deficiency rests not
with the book but with the nature of Maya
archaeology itself. Until recently, most of the
mapping and excavation activities in the
lowlands were focused rather narrowly on
the architecture of specific large civic-cere-
monial centers, such as Tikal or Seibal or
Copan, and comparatively little attention
was devoted to the greater surrounding
area.
Few areas of the Maya lowlands have ac-
tually experienced systematic regional sur-
veys to recover evidence of rural residential
settlement away from the centers. Most of
the information presently available consists
of maps of site locations and plans of large
sites showing the details of architectural
variation (different sizes and shapes of
structures) and their arrangements, but
with little knowledge of the activities carried
out at the structures themselves. It is clearly
important to have unambiguous structural
typologies and data on the disposition of
sites over a landscape. These data are, how-
ever, only preliminary to broader interpreta-
tions, and thus information on lowland
settlement patterns is still sketchy.
Neither the editor nor the authors in
Lowland Maya Settlement Patterns seek to
minimize the difficulties of obtaining a full
picture of Maya settlement. A concern with
methodological issues is evident and
straightforward in five introductory chap-
ters which establish the groundwork for the
study and interpretation of architecture and
settlement data. The greater ease of con-
ducting settlement surveys in the northern
lowlands is reflected by the fact that four of
seven data chapters deal with settlement
patterns in portions of Yucatan. The re-
maining contributions address geograph-
ically broader areas of the southern
lowlands: Peten, Belize, and the south-
eastern periphery including Quirigua and
Copan.
Only three essays attempt syntheses and
interpretation in a broader framework. Basi-
cally, they endeavor to explain the functions
of the large centers within the hierarchy of
extremely dispersed settlement charac-
teristic of the lowlands. Data from Rio Bec
(Campeche, Mexico) are used to propose
and illustrate a feudal model of Maya civi-
lization that has since provoked some con-
troversy; Analogies with Japan and
medieval Europe suggest a possibility of
Maya rotational elite residence at the cen-
ters, which the authors believe explains
some of the distributional data on center
locations and elite architecture. Analogies
are also drawn between Classic period set-
tlement and sociopolitical relationships,
and those of Central and East African
chiefdoms. Here again questions of the size
and density of Maya populations come to
the fore, particularly as they relate to the
economic versus political role of the large

centers. Another proposal is that the Maya
centers functioned as shrines for periodic
pilgrimage fairs. These are well-reasoned
efforts to try to understand how Maya soci-
ety worked, but they will remain in the realm
of hypothesis until more broadly-based set-
tlement data are available.

The Endings
The Classic Maya Collapse has recently
been reprinted with a new preface. This ex-
cellent volume is a balanced treatment of
the many theories, abundant data, and
complex interpretations associated with the
ninth and tenth century demise of Classic

Paradise lost was not
paradise regained; it was
never totally lost in the first
place.

Maya civilization in the southern lowlands.
The new preface provides a terse but effec-
tive summary of the changed views of the
nature of Maya society that have emerged
among archaeologists.
The collapse of Maya civilization is identi-
fied by three characteristics: (1) failure of
elite class culture (marked by an end of
Classic architecture, pottery, stelae and cal-
endrics); (2) depopulation of the ceremonial
centers and the countryside; and (3) the
very brief period (50-100 years) in which
these climactic events occurred. In a sce-
nario playing out the quintessential Mur-
phy's law, a tragic complex of ecological
strains (disease, weather or climatic phe-
nomena, soil exhaustion) and social ills (in-
vasion, internal unrest or warfare) seem to
have freakishly conjoined after about AD
800, bringing about the demise of the elite
manifestations of Classic civilization within
a century. The sudden appearance of non-
Maya artistic motifs at the end of the Late
Classic period in the Pasi6n River area of
Western Pet6n has been interpreted as evi-
dence of outside invasion of Maya territory
by peoples from the gulf coast.
This volume provides ample opportunity
for reflection on the state of lowland Maya
archaeology today. Civilizations are com-
plex, and just as no single factor can ac-
count for their rise, neither can any single
cause be pinpointed for their fall. As the
collapse marks a turning point in that civi-
lization's history, so too have the last few
years marked a change in thinking about
the phenomenon. New research has led to
recognition of a more gradualtransition be-
tween the Classic and Postclassic periods.
Although the collapse is unique to the
southern Maya lowlands, it is an event or
series of events singularly suffered by the

largest centers. This is clearly apparent in
chapters devoted to chronologies of partic-
ular large centers (Altar de Sacrificios, Tikal,
Seibal) or regions (only one of which treats
the northern lowlands). Little reflection is
needed to discern the pernicious correlation
at work here: an emphasis on large centers
in archaeological fieldwork has led to a
skewed emphasis on large centers in histor-
ical reconstructions. But the elite segment
of lowland Maya society inhabiting these
primary and secondary centers probably
represented only a tiny fraction-consider-
ably less than 5 percent and perhaps less
than 1 percent-of the total population.
What about the rural and residential areas
lying between the centers? What was hap-
pening to the populace there?
A look at the rural areas of Peten in the
period of the decline paints a different pic-
ture of events. Programs of settlement sur-
veys and excavations during the 1970s
focused in the area of a chain of lakes in
central Peten, south and east of the great
centers of Tikal, Uaxacti.n and Seibal. While
the region experienced marked population
declines during the century of the collapse
of the large elite centers, here in the "coun-
tryside" life was apparently less disrupted.
The lake basins were not abandoned, as
were the large centers; in contrast, they
seem to have slowly attracted settlers to
their shores. In this largely rural area, post-
collapse societies flourished through the
17th century, evolving into political, demo-
graphic and commercial centers with their
own distinctive Postclassic flavor. Smaller
and decidedly unspectacular as compared
to their Classic predecessors, they partici-
pated in the wide Postclassic religious and
artistic traditions of the rest of the lowlands,
as well as in wider trade relationships
throughout Mesoamerica. In this region,
then, a collapse of the sort associated with
the elites inhabiting the large Classic pri-
mary centers-marked by a sudden end of
construction and site abandonment-sim-
ply did not occur.
Continuity is evident not solely in the
southern lowlands but can be detected in
the north as well. Growing recognition of
broader patterns of rural transitional
cultures surviving collapse of the elite in the
lowlands may eventually force some recon-
sideration of the traditional catastrophic
view of the collapse itself. A phenomenon
such as a civilization's collapse cannot be
understood simply by viewing the upper
stratum of society and the events preceding
the decline. Wider perspectives on nonelite
or rural segments of society, combined with
the hindsights afforded by recent research
on the Postclassic occupation of the south-
ern lowlands, yield a new dimension to ar-
chaeologists' perception of this event and of
the Maya civilization itself. Paradise lost was
not paradise regained; it was never totally
lost in the first place. O

30/CAIBBEAN REVIEW

Huipiles, Tzutes and Molas

Context and Coincidence in Central American Textiles

Reviewed by Laurel Herbenar Bossen

A Century of Change in Guatemalan
Textiles, Ann Pollard Rowe. 151 p. Center
for Inter-American Relations, New York,
1981.

Cuna Molas and Cocld Art Forms:
Reflections on Panamanian Design Styles
and Symbols, Mary Helms. 80 p. Institute
for the Study of Human Issues,
Philadelphia, 1981.

Central America has two important centers
of colorful, traditional textiles produced by
native American populations. To the north,
in Guatemala and extending into Mexico, is
the region of traditional Maya hand-woven
textiles; and to the south, off the north-
eastern coast of Panama and extending
down toward Colombia, is the Cuna culture
of the San Bias Islands, known for its widely
exported molas, ornamental cloth pieces of
layered fabric with complex, hand-cut and
sewn designs. These distinct Central Amer-
ican textile traditions are the subject of two
publications concerned with change and
continuity in native American arts. Rowe's
study, A Century of Change in Guatemalan
Textiles, examines changes in artistic styles
and techniques of textile production over
the last century as they have occurred in 11
well-known Maya weaving towns. Each
town has a distinctive stylistic format within
the larger tradition of Maya textiles which
includes huipiles (native blouses), tzutes
(square pieces of cloth) and other gar-
ments. Helms' study, by contrast, explores
continuities in Panamanian artistic ex-
pression across greater temporal and cul-
tural distances. In Cuna Molas and Cocl6
Art Forms, Helms does not deal with varia-
tions within the mola tradition itself (which
originated only about 100 years ago), but
seeks similarities with pre-Columbian ce-
ramics and gold pieces in terms of color,
design, composition and symbols.

Laurel Herbenar Bossen teaches an-
thropology at McGill University. She is the au-
thor of The Redivision of Labor: Women and
Economic Choice in Four Guatemalan Commu-
nities (State University of New York Press,
1984).

Nebaj tzute

There are a number of parallels in the
conception and subject matter of these two
studies, which pose historical questions
concerning the evolution and survival of
pre-Columbian art forms in textiles pro-
duced by contemporary indigenous
cultures. Both Maya and Cuna textiles are
decidedly non-Western in their aesthetics,
although also manifestly capable of incor-
porating (indeed reliant upon) Western
manufactured materials and representa-
tional forms.
In both traditions, women are the pre-
dominant, if not exclusive, producers of tex-
tile art work. Their textiles are produced not
only for local use and ornamentation as per-

sonal clothing, but also are sold to an inter-
national tourist and folk-art market. Also, in
both cultures the textiles serve as contem-
porary "ethnic markers," visually identify-
ing the wearers as Indians, and usually as
women. (Fewer Maya men than women
wear native clothing, and none of the Cuna
men wear mola blouses.) The textiles are
primarily an art form of a doubly subordi-
nate group in nations where ethnicity and
sex are important bases for stratification.
There are also some notable differences
between the two textile traditions. The Maya
forte is weaving, a traditional specialty that
has been in women's hands since before the
Spanish conquest. Woven goods in pre-Co-
lumbian Mesoamerica were both a com-
mercial and domestic product; they were
collected as tribute and widely distributed.
The Maya also worshipped weaving god-
desses, reflecting the antiquity of this art
form and its production by women. While
some Maya men weave, they specialize in
the treadle-loom weaving introduced by the
Spanish colonists, which is much less wide-
spread than women's weaving with the pre-
Columbian backstrap loom.
In contrast, the Cuna mola is not a hand-
woven product, nor does it have pre-Colum-
bian origins as an artistic medium.
Mola-making is generally held to have orig-
inated in the late 19th century, when com-
mercial cloth was sold to the Cuna by
coastal traders. The intricacy and relative
uniqueness of the style rests in its multi-
layered reverse cutout design, as well as in
the standard choice of bright colors and the
selection of geometric and animistic de-
signs. Thus, while its designs might display
earlier origins, the mola as a textile art is
relatively modern, deriving from and de-
pendent on Western contact for its mate-
rials. (It is very likely that Western culture is
also responsible for the cultural standard
that women should wear blouses in a hot
climate. This would be consistent with the
frequent suggestion that mola designs were
derived from body painting.) Despite its
recent invention, mola-making and wear-
ing has become a generalized symbol of
Cuna womanhood, much as the handwoven
or embroidered huipil symbolizes Maya

CAIBBEAN rWEvI/31

womanhood in Guatemala.

Diversity and Change
Rowe's book was written to accompany an
exhibition of Guatemalan Maya textiles
organized by the Center for Inter-American
Relations and the Textile Museum of Wash-
ington, DC (where she is curator of Western
Hemisphere textiles). The textiles were se-
lected from 11 well-documented commu-
nities. Excellent color plates presenting
close-up views of the woven fabric and de-
signs are combined with old and new pho-
tographs of the textiles as worn by
Guatemalan Mayas. The decision to use ex-
clusively ethonographic photographs,
rather than painted illustrations or posed
photographs with non-Maya models, pro-
duces an accurate record of the way textiles
are worn as well as an image of the people
who wear them. The photographs of bare-
foot peasants also offer a glimpse at the
impoverished background of the artist-
weavers that increases our appreciation of
their achievement. With the photos, it is pos-
sible to compare textile changes over time
and to observe the evolution of local textile
fashions in the different communities.
This book makes an important contribu-
tion to the study of Mesoamerican textile
traditions, offering a unique combination of
textile expertise, ethno-historic data and vi-
sual records. Rowe rejects the common
view which presumes that Guatemalan tex-
tiles-because they seem so locally dis-
tinctive and non-Western-have remained
essentially unchanged as local expressions
of Maya culture. The idea that Maya com-
munities used fixed designs, colors and pat-
terns, handed down since pre-Columbian
times, is often an appealing market pitch to
the tourist textile buyer who wants to believe
that their purchases are truly "ancient" or
"primitive" art forms. Rowe demonstrates
that Guatemalan textiles are a living, evolv-
ing tradition. In only 100 years Maya
weavers have done a great deal of inventing,
borrowing, elaborating and changing of
their traditions, while still remaining distinct
from current European fashions.
Some of the changes in Guatemalan tex-
tiles include the switch from wild or home-
grown, handspun and natural-dyed cottons
to commercial threads, wools and synthetic
fabrics dyed with brighter chemical dyes.
But these changes occur in different com-
binations and at different rates. Commu-
nities that once had barely any design or
color have steadily increased the amounts
of decoration to stunning proportions (pre-
sumably because labor formerly dedicated
to spinning and dying threads is now ap-
plied to artistic endeavor), while other com-
munities have simplified their textiles. Rowe
also reports which items of local fashion are
actually purchased from other Maya towns,
and the approximate time periods of
changes in supply and preference. Thus,

we learn that women of Santiago Atitlan
wore blue-and-white plaid or blue-and-red
checked skirts in the late 19th century,
switched en masse to red skirts starting
around 1910, wore ever-wider ikat (tie-
dyed) stripes through the 1930s, and by the
mid 1970s were switching to polychrome
skirts. In each instance, the "local" or
"native" skirt material was imported from
the city of Quetzaltenango where it was pro-
duced on treadle looms.
This interesting study will be valuable not
only to those who appreciate Guatemalan
textiles and pre-Columbian artistic tradi-
tions per se, but also to ethnographers and

ethnohistorians who wish to trace the eco-
nomic influences and exchanges linking
Maya towns to each other and to European
populations. The cultural interactions re-
corded in the evolution of textiles can pro-
vide a wealth of information on regional
economic activity and exchange. Analysis
of the sources of supply for threads,
dyestuffs and fabrics can reveal changing
trade patterns and local specialization of
certain towns that produce hand-woven tex-
tiles for others. These changes in textile pro-
duction can contribute to studies of the
changing division of labor and levels of con-
sumption in Maya communities where
other historical records are missing or
incomplete.
Rowe hesitates to speculate on the future
of Maya textiles, noting that in 1924 their
imminent decline was predicted, only to be
followed by a period of rich textile activity
and innovation. Nonetheless, one of the
weaknesses of the study is that Rowe was
unable to go to the field and is therefore
unaware that the indigenous weaving and
costumes of Palin, the first town she docu-
ments, have nearly vanished. Also, by
concentrating on 11 towns with well-
documented or relatively healthy textile tra-
ditions, one can overlook the towns that
have ceased to maintain local weaving on
any significant scale. Finally, given the expe-
rience of violent repression, political tur-
moil, and the diaspora of many Maya
communities in Guatemala in the last five
years, Maya weaving has not only suffered
the loss of an important part of its economic
base in tourist sales, but has, as an identity
marker, been reported to be dangerous for

the Maya to wear.

Strained Parallels
We should not expect to find a comparable
artistic continuity in the Panamanian mate-
rials examined by Helms; these span some
500 to 1,000 years, as well as differences in
local environment and media. Yet continuity
is precisely what Helms is looking for, citing
authors who assert that the motifs on Cuna
women's mola blouses are "ancient and
conservative" with "roots in pre-Columbian
art." Although the contemporarymolas and
pre-Columbian artifacts both originated in
Panamanian territory, direct links between
the populations of south-central archae-
ological sites and the Cuna who now live in
the San Bias archipelago have not been
established. Helms does not suggest a di-
rect line of descent from the pre-Columbian
Cocld to the Cuna, but she does suggest that
the ancestors of the Cuna were probably
very similar in culture and sociopolitical as-
pects to the south-central ancestors, and
therefore that the modern Cuna could be
expected to show cultural continuity with
the local pre-Columbian cultural pool.
Because mola art is recognizably non-
Western in its style, although depicting
many Western motifs and objects, Helms'
hypothesis is plausible in its broadest
sense, but also unremarkable. In fact, it is
nearly irrefutable, for if mola art is not West-
ern and not broadly pre-Columbian, what
other cultural roots could it possibly have?
There are only two large cultural traditions
to examine in this area. The only way that
Helms' hypothesis takes on greater interest
is if she demonstrates that molas represent
a specific continuity with localized Panama-
nian art traditions as opposed to the larger
Mesoamerican or South American indige-
nous cultures. This is not, however, what
she explicit sets out to do, for some of her
arguments shift between Panamanian and
more generalized pre-Columbian styles
without distinguishing between them. To
make the tighter argument for a specific
continuity from the Panamanian archae-
ological record, Helms could have tested for
the similarities of molas with other sets of
pre-Columbian artifacts.
Helms' discussion has two main strands.
The first attempts to demonstrate a formal
and stylistic continuity between pre-Co-
lumbian designs in ceramics and gold, and
contemporary mola designs, while the sec-
ond suggests that mola designs express
political-religious meanings that may have
continuity with pre-Columbian art forms.
Methodologically, there are a number of
problems with these comparisons and
search for artistic affinity. First, the stylistic
analysis is based on a collection of 253
molas, primarily from the Chicago Field
Museum of Natural History, and two archae-
ological studies with numerous illustrations
of ceramics and gold pieces. Of the molas,

32/CAI?BBEAN IFVIEW

42 percent were judged to be noncompara-
ble to the motifs in the ceramics and gold
pieces, but no information is provided re-
garding the percentage of pre-Columbian
artifacts and motifs that were included in
the analysis. Presumably, these were se-
lected as well, and if so, the incidence of
systematic comparability as opposed to for-
tuitous likeness would be still weaker.
Second, the illustrations of motifs gener-
ally show only an extracted segment rather
than a representation of how the design fits
into the artifact in toto, a technique which
seems to exaggerate the possibilities for
finding similarities rather than differences,
particularly where one is dealing with geo-
metric designs. Similarly, mola designs are
simplified to remove distracting dis-
similarities or detail, such as lettering. In-
deed, many of the fragments of ceramic
designs that are compared to mola de-
signs-such as x's, diamonds, chevrons,
spirals, scrolls, swastikas and various sim-
ple fillers--could well be found in geo-
metric designs worldwide. When one
examines the accompanying figures to ver-
ify the asserted similarities, many of the par-
allels seem dubious or forced. As Tom
Lehrer noted regarding Freudian symbolic
interpretations, "Properly viewed, every-
thing's lewd." In this case, Helms sees pre-
Columbian parallels with an eager eye.
A third problem is the interpretation of
pictoral motifs. For instance, the "single-
side-facing animal" is said to be "common"
in Cuna molas and in pre-Columbian ce-
ramics, but the drawings also show a
number of frontal views in each data set. I
suggest that side facing, along with frontal
facing, would be common in many art
styles that depict animal life, and thus not
necessarily diagnostic. Other similarities in
design that Helms emphasizes seem to de-
rive primarily from anatomical similarities
in the depicted local fauna themselves.
Head crests, wings and tails on birds, as well
as similarities in the bodies of insects, fish
and crabs, seem more striking and basic in
themselves than the "stylistic" traits. Finally,
in discovering "parallels in thematic con-
tent" based on fish and crabs in both molas
and pre-Columbian ceramics, Helms ad-
mits that "the mode of portrayal has
changed somewhat," but switches to theme
as the important similarity. To my eye, the
depictions have little in common other than
the crab or fish as model, and are about as
convincing a demonstration of cultural rela-
tionship as a juxtaposition of a Chinese and
North American Indian drawing of a horse.
Would not any culture, transplanted to San
Bias, learn to depict the local crabs, birds,
fish and insects as opposed to other ani-
mals such as reindeer, bears or camels that
do not reside on the islands? Similarly,
Helms does not consider to what extent con-
straints inherent in the artistic media may
sometimes produce a convergence of for-

mal similarities.
A second part of Helms' work explores the
idea that molas possibly have "so-
ciopolitical functions and symbolic con-
texts" which may also have been "expressed
by pre-Columbian polychrome ceramics
and gold pieces a millennium or so ago."
Here again, we are offered a very tentative
interpretation, for data on the meaning of
stylistic form are lacking for pre-Columbian
artifacts as well as for contemporarymolas.
The discussion of symbolism is not docu-
mented as much as conjectured, with a
string of suppositions regarding the politi-
cal-religious significance of mola produc-
tion and themes. I do not doubt that molas
can convey various kinds and levels of
meaning, but Helms fails to provide specific
evidence of continuity of meanings. We
learn only that molas are considered a sign
of Cuna ethnicity and solidarity, and that
mola-making is a worthy activity for
women during village political gatherings.
Oddly, Helms largely ignores the enormous
economic significance of this work, even
though a Cuna population of only about
30,000 people manages to keep enough
women employed in this cottage industryto
supply tourist and folk-art shops with abun-
dant stacks of molas in Panamanian and
Colombian cities as well as in major cities
throughout North America.
Given these weaknesses in Helms' pre-
sentation, her decision to subtitle the book-
let "Reflections on Panamanian Design
Styles and Symbols" is fitting; this is essen-
tially a working paper based on com-
parisons that are still highly speculative.
Although one should not rule out the pos-
sibility of making a strong case for cultural
continuity in Panama leading from antiq-
uity into modern mola art, Helms' work has
only scratched the surface. At a more tech-
nical level, it needs a map locating the ar-
chaeological sources with respect to the
present-day Cuna, as well as photographs of
molas as worn by Cuna, and of the ceramic
and gold artifacts from which designs were
taken, to properly evaluate the arguments
presented.
The temptation to look for pre-Colum-
bian survivals should not cause us to over-
look the tremendous creativity and vitality
of contemporary artists whose culture has
been changed by foreign domination. This
creativity, as in the textiles of Central Amer-
ica, may well have traceable cultural roots in
pre-Columbian art, but it also responds in-
tensely to the current experiences of artists
and their communities. While both Rowe
and Helms have made an effort to under-
stand these textile arts in terms of their local
cultural history, further anthropological re-
search is needed to develop a full under-
standing and appreciation of these art
forms, and conversely to use art collections
themselves to complement the eth-
nographic record. O

Journal of
THE TOCQUEVILLE
SOCIETY
LA SOCIETY TOCQUEVILLE
A bilingual quarterly journal of
social history and current affairs
in France and the United States.
Published by the Tocqueville
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Subscription rates:
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correspondence (from the U.S.)
Professor Franklin Mendels,
Associate Secretary, U.S.
706 Administration Building
University of Maryland,
Baltimore Country
Catonsville, Maryland 21228
(from Europe)
Professor Henri Mendras,
Associate Secretary, France
69 quai D'Orsay
75007 Paris, France
Manuscripts should be forwarded
to: Jesse R. Pitts, Editor
Dept. of Sociology and
Anthropology
Oakland University
Rochester, Mi 48063
Some papers from recent issues:
Lawrence Wylie and Sarella
Henriquez, French Images
of American Life
Herbert Landier, La situation
syndicale en France
John Shy, Yorktown 1781,
Personalities and Documents
J6r6me Jaffr6, La Politique
Etrangbre et LOpinion Frangaise
Theodore Caplow, The Sociologi
cal Myth of Family Decline
Raymond Aron, Tocqueville
Retrouv6
William Schonfeld, Scenes de
la vie politique frangaise
Stanley Hoffmann, Some Notes
on Democratic Theory and
Practice
Jean-Marcel Jeanneney,
Continuity et changement dans
le gouvernement de la France
Henri Mendras, An Optimistic
View of France
Sylvain Wickham, La tentation
post-industrielle en France
Seymour Lipset, Whither the
First new Nation?
Frangois Bourricaud, Cotradition
et Traditions chez Tocqueville

CAffBBEAN PEVIW/33

"Si Abuela..."

Garcia Marquez's Erotic Fairy Tale

A Film Review by Aaron Segal

Erendira. Screenplay by Gabriel Garcia
Marquez; Directed by Ruy Guerra;
Produced by Alain Queffelean; Director of
Photography: Denys Clerval; Featuring:
Irene Papas, Claudia Ohana, Michael
Lonsdale; Distributed by Miramax Films,
New York. 99 minutes.

Erendira is an erotic fairy tale with multiple
bizarre twists. The screenplay, by Gabriel

Aaron Segal, professor of political science at
the University of Texas at El Paso, frequently
reviews films.

Garcia M6rquez, is the forerunner of an epi-
sode in his novel, One Hundred Years of
Solitude.
Erendira, a sweet, comely, docile and
submissive girl, accidentally sets fire to what
remains of the family mansion in the desert,
where an ill wind is howling. Her time-rav-
aged grandmother, the last scion of the
Amadis family which long ago had fallen on
hard times, determines to prostitute her
granddaughter until the losses caused by
the fire are repaid. They establish a one-
woman mobile brothel in a desert tent,
which becomes increasingly ornate as its

fame grows. Men line up in droves to pay
steep prices as Erendira inexhaustibly
spreads her legs. The virginal stripling Ulys-
ses, son of a diamond smuggler, seeks to
steal Erendira away from her rapacious
grandmother by murdering the old lady. He
fails to do her in with a bomb and a poi-
soned birthday cake (her hair falls out), but
finally succeeds with a knife, its blows spat-
tering him with blue blood. Erendira es-
capes across the sands-alone.
This film works best through its minor
characters and visual illusions. There is a
mysterious photographer-artist on a bicycle

34/CAIBBEAN REVIEW

Scenes from the film. Top: Irene Papas as the grandmother; Opposite page and above: Erendira, played by Claudia Ohana.

who attaches himself to the brothel entou-
rage to portray satisfied men leaving the
nubile bed. There is the suave and cynical
politician with a heart tatooed above his
heart. There are the town prostitutes who
revile Erendira for bringing about their un-
employment, and there are the smugglers
whose traffic overrides even sex. There are
the evangelists who want to save Erendira
by making her a child bride. There is the
postman on a donkey who first spreads the
word of Erendira's talents in exchange for a
discount.
In spite of its comic moments and char-

acters, plus a superb performance by Irene
Papas, the Greek tragedian in a rare comic
role, the film lacks coherence. The French-
Mexican-German coproduction was filmed
on location in Mexico. The dialogue is Span-
ish spoken with diverse accents (En-
glish subtitles), and there are also snatches
of what sounds like French, Dutch and Jap-
anese from the multinational cast. The fan-
tasy relies on dreams and visual contrasts
and incongruities, but it falters or drags at
times. Erendira is a pawn whose body en-
flames men, but whose character exhibits
only a single dimension. The film belongs

to Irene Papas, portraying the wily, cunning,
exploitative grandmother determined to re-
store the Amadis family wealth by sacrific-
ing its honor.
Garcia Marquez had extensive experi-
ence as a screenwriter during his stay in
Mexico during the 1960s. This is his first
attempt at presenting his own work on the
screen. However, literary fantasy often suf-
fers when force-fed through film images.
The written word provides greater scope for
the imagination to roam. Yet Erendira is
enjoyable, and hopefully a harbinger of bet-
ter things to come. O

CAIBBEAN FEVIEW/35

Refugee Chess
Continued from page 6

tober 1980 and the end of 1982, Florida
received $80 million of $100 million in na-
tional entrant aid reimbursement as well as
$25 million in funds specifically earmarked
for the state. For their part, the state and
local governments of Florida would spend
more than $150 million in unreimbursed
costs related to the Cuban/Haitian influx.
Such was the cost tally for Cuba's successful
breach of American sovereignty; if the
efforts of the Florida leadership amounted
to ratification of that breach, they at least
shifted much of the fiscal burden backto the
White House players.
There were other consequences. Minors
and other dependent entrants who had
been inappropriately, and .often danger-
ously, billeted in refugee camps found more
appropriate placements as a consequence
of Fascell-Stone funding as well as litigious
pressures from an Indiana-based organiza-
tion named the Cuban-American Legal De-
fense and Education Fund. Thus legislative
initiative, Cuban-American pressures, and
later the courts, would help correct deficient
fiscal and human policies of the federal gov-
ernment. The Carter administration had
seemed intent on passing the costs to af-
fected localities and, as the Atlanta detainee
issue would show, to strike a posture of
toughness vis-a-vis the Mariel Cubans in
lieu of a confrontation with Castro. These
policy traits were assumed virtually un-
changed by a new administration otherwise
bent on distancing itself from Carterite
game strategies.

Congress
Notwithstanding the factors compelling a
salient role for Florida in the 1980 immigra-
tion crisis, it has puzzled immigration critics
and analysts that the Refugee Act of 1980
was first ignored, then virtually duplicated in
all but its status provisions with Fascell-
Stone. Quite aside from controversies over
"economic" versus "political" refugees and
what migrants may or not be deserving of
de jure refugee status, the Refugee Act
failed a first test because it manifested over-
commitment on the part of its sponsors.
The act was modeled on the United Nations
Convention and Protocol on the Status of
Refugees, so that refugee status would de-
pend on the individual claimant's demon-
strably credible fear of persecution, not on
the ideology of refugee-sending nations.
The act was thus a political statement, but it
did not establish structures and resources
sufficient for its professed goals.
The Refugee Act fails to direct the execu-
tive branch to establish a comprehensive
system of coordination in such key areas as
refugee resettlement within the US, third-

country resettlement, or intelligence shar-
ing. It also fails to mandate the staffing of
key executive agencies at levels commensu-
rate with their newly legislated tasks. For
example, the Asylum Unit of State's Bureau
of Human Rights and Humanitarian Affairs,
the office responsible for reviewing indi-
vidual claims for refugee status or asylum
and for rendering advisory opinions to the
Immigration and Naturalization Service,
was given only 15 employees, despite the
fact that it had to make case-by-case deter-
minations in tens of thousands of refugee
and asylum claims.
Similarly, the act created the Office of Ref-

Cuban-Americans came
to take for granted a
preferential clientage
relationship with
Washington.

ugee Resettlement (ORR) in the Depart-
ment of Health and Human Services and the
Office of the US Coordinator for Refugee
Affairs, eventually attached to the State De-
partment. These agencies lacked the fund-
ing, status and authority to establish
themselves bureaucratically, much less to
function. Fascell-Stone rescued ORR from
marginality, moving the Cuban-Haitian
Task Force to ORR's organizational struc-
ture and relieving the US coordinator from
Cuban-Haitian duties. This consolidated
and streamlined entrant assistance and re-
settlement programs beginning in the fall
of 1980, although the clearer delegation of
powers came too late to bring order to
chaos.
The Asylum Unit's desk officers have
been disinclined to fight for more people,
and as a consequence it remains a bot-
tleneck where advisory (and usually deter-
minative) decisions on asylee and refugee
claims are made perfunctorily, according to
the current political dictate for each country
of provenance, rather than individually as
stipulated in the Refugee Act. In regard to
Cuban claims, the units' administration
fully backed the presumption against auto-
matic refugee status for Cubans conse-
quent on both the Refugee Act and status
policy toward Mariel arrivals. When the gen-
erally exclusionary tenor of Reagan admin-
istration immigration policy became
evident, the Asylum Unit continued to
presume against Cuban claims, now simply
on the basis of a closed-door policy. The
Asylum Unit ventured to put in motion the
unprecedented return to Cuba of stowaway
Andr6s Hernandez in 1982. This case be-
came notorious with the ensuing street
riots in Miami, but there were also unsung

instances of denial of claims.
That these denials have taken place under
the Reagan administration underscores the
extent to which its exclusionary immigra-
tion policy has come to affect Cuban-Amer-
icans. The White House asserted that it was
caught unawares by the Hernandez depor-
tation. Yet, the State Department Asylum
Division rendered the advisory opinion in
the Hernandez case, and the division is
headed by an administration appointee.
The presumption had to be that denying
Hernandez asylum somehow accorded with
administration policy. The administration is
thus, for the first time, perceived to be act-
ing counter to the interests of many Cuban-
Americans by denying Cuba preference
immigrant visas (those for other than im-
mediate relatives) and visas for former polit-
ical prisoners pending the repatriation of
excludable entrants.

Cuban-Americans
Exile organizations such as the Cuban Pa-
triotic Council and the Cuban-American
National Foundation, normally at the nexus
of relations between Washington and Little
Havana, have been unable to significantly
amend closed-door policies toward Cuban
immigration. President Reagan's Cuban-
American political appointees have simi-
larly had limited success lobbying the White
House to this end. Issues such as the sus-
pension of most visas for family reunifica-
tion have yet to fully surface in Cuban-
American interest group politics.
Cuban-Americans came to take for
granted a preferential clientage relationship
with Washington. President Carter dashed
that expectation when on 14 May 1980 he
declared the Mariel sealift illegal, withdraw-
ing his days-old embrace for those fleeing
Castro's communism. The difference this
time, of course, was Castros forced expul-
sion of what he called "scum" from Cuban
jails, mental hospitals and streets. This the
US denounced as an unprecedented vio-
lation of international law.
Reviving earlier, personalistic modes of
interaction, the president invited Cuban-
American leaders to meet with him and his
aides in the White House following the 14
May announcement of sanctions against
boat skippers venturing to Mariel. Those
leaders refused his request for assistance in
stopping the sealift. In a follow-up meeting
18 July, Deputy Secretary of State Warren
Christopher, US Coordinator for Refugee Af-
fairs Victor Palmieri and Myles Frechette
again asked for assistance in stopping the
south-bound flow of boats. None of the par-
ticipants would agree to such cooperation
in a group forum, responding instead with
political speeches from the conference
table. Both partners in the clientage rela-
tionship balked. Thereafter, Cuban-Ameri-
can participation in policymaking toward
Mariel was foreclosed, and the president was
no longer solicitous.

36/CAfBBEAN IvIEwV

The advent of the Reagan presidency
promised to restore the earlier partnership.
Anti-Castro policies were part and parcel of
a stronger anti-Soviet stance, and the
number of high-level Cuban-American po-
litical appointments broke precedent.
Cuban-American support for Reagan is, of
course, anomalous among Hispanic Ameri-
cans. The new administration, however,
would jam shut the barely open door to
Cuban immigration-the reason, an after-
math of Mariel, was the hundreds of alleged
Cuban criminals held in an Atlanta max-
imum-security prison. Cuban-Americans,
laboring to distance themselves from the
"Marielitos" who threatened their standing,
missed Washington's feint to the Atlanta
pawn.

Cuban Detainees
Its estrangement from Cuban-Americans
rendered Washington's policy toward the
Mariel sealift and its processing of the
Cuban entrants all the less discerning. The
arrivals were processed at the Immigration
and Naturalization Service (INS) district of-
fice in Miami in ways seemingly calculated
to wreak havoc. They were asked to volun-
teer whether they had ever been imprisoned
for more than 15 days in Cuba, and 24,000
of them answered in the affirmative. The
problem was that the more cunning and
often most dangerous among them simply
lied and went free. Of the 24,000 admitting
a prison history, most were deemed to have
been jailed for petty offenses or for political
reasons, predominantly under Cuba's
catch-all "dangerousness law" that permits
imprisonment for suspicion of actual or po-
tential counterrevolutionary activity. How-

ever, 1,171 of the 24,000 were detained in
federal prisons pending exlcusion hearings;
most of these claimed they had been im-
prisoned in Cuba for the same types of
petty or political offenses (some of the latter
even backed their claims with the names of
CIA control officers under whom they had
worked in Cuba). The detainees were joined
by others, denounced, often on grudges, by
other entrants, as well as by participants in
refugee camp riots and hundreds arrested
for criminal offenses in the US. This grab
bag of dangerous and innocent entrants
were consolidated in the Atlanta Federal
Penitentiary in late 1980 and underwent ex-
clusion hearings.
Despite language barriers at the hear-
ings, insistence on innocence by most of
these entrants and lack of evidence, nearly
90 percent of those completing this pro-
cessing were found excludable. The vast
majority were found excludable on "docu-
mentary grounds," namely entering the US
without a visa, lacking sufficient evidence
for exclusion on criminal grounds.
Although the Cuban detainees were for-
mally extended due process opportunities,
the procedural tools used were too blunt for
the task of ferreting out dangerous crimi-
nals or Castro agents. Although the State
Department worked with the United Nations
High Commissioner for Refugees in review-
ing final determinations of exclusion, the
resources of State's Asylum Unit were al-
ready so overburdened that even cursory
case reviews were impossible. Part of the
problem was a lack of documentation from
Cuba of detainees' penal background.
State's Cuban Affairs Desk was unsuc-
cessful in repeated attempts to obtain such

documentation directly from the Cuban
government, documentation that it ac-
knowledged would have been suspect even
if forthcoming.
By February 1981, the United States
Catholic Conference, the main voluntary re-
settlement agency, publicized findings that
over half the Atlanta detainees were unjustly
incarcerated and were no threat to anyone.
Not only had the incarceration of the Atlanta
Cubans been prolonged, but they had be-
gun to prey on one another, victimizing in-
nocent detainees. The Bureau of Prisons
and INS were disinclined to hold all the de-
tainees, clearing many for release, but the
White House and State Department had
turned to that prison population as the only
means available to demonstrate toughness
on Mariel.
The Carter administration had insisted,
to the press and through diplomatic notes
to Castro, that Cuba unilaterally take back
the entire group of 1,800 detainees. Rea-
gan's administration assumed an identical
strategy. Beginning in July 1981 the courts
intervened, eventually forcing the Justice
Department to release some 1,300 of the
1,800 detainees. Volunteer attorneys from
Atlanta and members of that city's Legal Aid
Society and Latin American Association,
brought several individual and class-action
suits before the US District Court for the
Northern District of Georgia, culminating in
Fernfndez-Roque v. Smith (91 FRD 239
[1981]). Judge Marvin Shoob ordered the
release of 1,700 of the Atlanta Cubans as a
class unless they could be proven to present
a danger to public safety, and he reaffirmed
earlier court opinions that their detention
was inhumane because it was indefinite,

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CAIBBeAN 1eVIEW/37

THE INSTITUTE OF
INTERNATIONAL
RELATIONS
announces the publication of its

OCCASIONAL
PAPER SERIES

The purpose of the OCCA-
SIONAL PAPER SERIES is to
provide a forum for discussion of
research carried out by Caribbean
and International Scholars on
various aspects of the interna-
tional relations of the Caribbean
and Latin America.

Occasional Paper 1: Financial
Constraints and Economic Develop-
ment in the Commonwealth Carib-
bean: the Recent Experience, by
Ramesh Ramsaran, (February 1983).

Occasional Papers 2 & 3: The Car-
ibbean Basin and Recent Develop-
ments in the Law of the Sea; and
Human Rights in the Commonwealth
Caribbean: an International Rela-
tions Perspective, by Anselm Francis
(April 1983).

Occasional Paper 4: The Theory of
Caribbean Economy: Origins and
Current Status, by Eric St. Cyr (Oc-
tober 1983).

PRICE: US $4.00 (including
postage) Prepayment is required and
cheques should be made payable to:
THE INSTITUTE OF
INTERNATIONAL
RELATIONS
The University of the West Indies,
St. Augustine,
Republic of Trinidad and Tobago.

Manuscripts are welcome. They
should be no longer than 45 dou-
blespaced typewritten pages and
should be sent in duplicate to:
The Editor,
Occasional Paper Series,
Institute of International
Relations,
University of the West Indies,
St. Augustine,
Republic of Trinidad and Tobago.

dependent on a deportation that was impos-
sible to carry out. Judge Shoob mandated
case-by-case reviews by the Justice Depart-
ment and the eventual release of most of the
detainees in question. As had the Florida
coalition, the courts had intervened to undo
pessimal federal policy.
The Atlanta cases called into question
federal authority to indefinitely detain al-
iens, lending momentum to analogous
findings on procedural grounds in the case
of Haitian detainees in the Krome camp
outside Miami. The Justice Department ap-
pealed the latter, winning a March 1984
ruling from the 11th US Circuit Court of
Appeals, concluding that illegal aliens have
no constitutional rights and may indeed be
detained indefinitely, at Krome or else-
where. Until the issue is settled in the Su-
preme Court, not only the Krome Haitians
but also the present Cuban detainees in At-
lanta have no prospect for release.
The Reagan policy of tying repatriation of
the Atlanta Cubans to renewal of immigrant
visa operations in Havana is morejustifiable
than its earlier repetition of Carter's demand
for deportation of the original 1,800 de-
tainees. The present Atlanta prison group,
about 1,000, is drawn for the most part
from police precincts around the nation fol-
lowing arrest for crimes in the US, rather
than for pilfering food or engaging in sabo-
tage in Cuba. However, the insistence on
linkage to the deportation of Atlanta de-
tainees has all the earmarks of bureaucratic
inertia and rote behavior and could lead to
another Mariel. The family reunification
process that has been suspended entails
immigration by relatives of US citizens and
residents, and if long forestalled may
prompt another ironic partnership between
Cuban-Americans and their nemesis, Fidel.
He has clearly made that calculation, deliv-
ering the message through Jackson.

Chess Is Not a Team Sport
In its Mariel policy, the Carter administra-
tion first tried to assuage the demands of
Cuban and Haitian advocacy groups by
linking the status of these populations in the
name of equity. It tried simultaneously to
respond to the public backlash by denying
these groups refugee status and benefits, a
policy that was punitive to localities such as
Miami. The Florida Congressional delega-
tion and other local players restored a voice
to areas heavily affected bythe influxes. De-
spite direct and indirect communications
and attempts at linkage, no American ad-
ministration has yet to lead Fidel Castro in a
direction he does not want to take; on the
contrary, the Cuban president has usually
had his way. Policies such as the linkage of
deportation and immigration simply give
Castro an opening, and he has taken it with
Jackson's help. Moreover, human rights
groups such as Americas Watch have been
pointing out for over a year the inconsis-
tency of relegating former political pris-

owners and relatives of Cuban-Americans to
a purgatory of joblessness and ostracism
while awaiting emigration from Cuba. This
punishes people whom the administration
regards as victims of totalitarianism.
It does not help to argue that Castro's
moves are cynical. He even made propa-
ganda hay of the mistreatment of Mariel
Cubans. The problem lies with playing the
game on Castro's terms, mimicking his ma-
nipulative strategy. In any case, the gambit
of advancing excludable Cuban entrants as
pawns for sacrifice has worked no better
during the Reagan administration than dur-
ing Carter's. The point of a gambit is strate-
gic advance at the cost of a pawn, while here
the sacrifice ultimately involves not the Mar-
ielito "pawns" but the claim of American
citizens for family reunification in full accor-
dance with US immigration law.
Moreover, the American players can ill af-
ford to play musical chairs at the game table
or to switch game strategies randomly
when they do take up play. After Jackson
usurped a place at the chess board, Presi-
dent Reagan first condemned him, suggest-
ing he had violated the ancient Logan Act
(prohibiting US citizens from dealing with a
foreign government for purpose of influenc-
ing its conduct without authority of US gov-
ernment), then reversed himself once the
US-Cuba talks in New York were set in mo-
tion. On 12 July, American negotiators sat
down in a secret Manhattan location with a
four-member Cuban delegation to discuss,
it appeared, the Jackson agenda of nor-
malization of bilateral immigration policy.
The Cuban team, headed by Deputy For-
eign Minister Ricardo Alarc6n, one of Cuba's
leading experts on the US, had a different
agenda from its American counterpart-
which was likely (this was not confirmed)
under the direction of Kenneth Skoug, Rea-
gan's replacement for Frechette as director
of State's Cuban Desk. As they have done
since the 1980-81 talks with the Carter ad-
ministration, the Cubans insisted on com-
prehensive talks, linking not only the gamut
of immigration issues from highjacking to
routine visa operations, but also broader
US-Cuba relations. The American team in-
sisted on the exceedingly narrow focus of
repatriation of Cuban "undesirables," not
only the detainees in Atlanta but about
3,000 other excludable Mariel entrants. The
Cuban delegation, for its part, repeated
Cuba's long-standing demand that only
Mariel Cubans volunteering to return be
considered for repatriation and that Cuba
retain a veto over whom it takes back.
That the Manhattan meetings took place
at all points to the aggregation of players
and conflicting motives on the American
side. Immediately after the Jackson trip,
Reagan Chief of Staff James Baker mobi-
lized the president's liaisons with the Cuban-
American community to assure it that the
administration's hard line toward Cuba
would remain unchanged. Responsibility

38/CAI?BBEAN IeVIEW

for that liaison work fell in part on Ambas-
sador Otto Reich, a Cuban-American and
Reagan appointee as the State Depart-
ment's coordinator for public diplomacy for
Central America. The Cuban Affairs Desk
was also enlisted to reassure Cuban-Ameri-
cans, delivering essentially the message
given publicly by press spokesman Larry
Speakes that any move toward US-Cuba
conciliation would require an end to "Cuban
policies of exporting subversion in Central
America and Africa." Yet, within two weeks
the Cuban Desk was leading talks in which it
was the Cubans who stressed linkage.
State's Cuban Desk has long been in the
unhappy, no-win position of being a White
House conduit to both Havana and Miami's
Little Havana.
The logjam in Cuban immigration affects
more than Cuban-Americans. The problem
is part of a wider exclusionary policy suf-
fered across the board by Haitians, Sal-
vadorans and others denied reception. The
Asylum Unit denies the claims of Sal-
vadoran and Haitian refugees because the
administration supports their respective re-
gimes, and the administration denies nor-
mal immigration to Cubans to stress our
coolness to their government (according to
an October 1981 State Department memo-
randum cited by Wayne Smith, former head
of the US Interests Section in Havana). This
kind of universal linkage could spell prob-
lems. For over a decade, Miami voices have
pleaded for normalized immigration from
Cuba to forestall disaster. Church spokes-
men, local officials, Florida congressmen
and Cuban-Americans joined in this admo-
nition, rendered prophetic by the Mariel
influx. Rising pressures for Cuban emigra-
tion will likely spark such pleas again.
Filed away at the State Department and
the Office of Refugee Resettlement are con-
tingency studies and plans for a "Mariel II,"
which were prepared during the Carter ad-
ministration and presidential transition pe-
riod. These studies consider normalized
visa operations in Havana as key to the pre-
vention of another collaborative mass ex-
odus. The US Interests Section in Havana
has pressed since 1981 for such normaliza-
tion, which would permit the emigration of
former political prisoners as well as rela-
tives, who now must wait years and then
travel to third countries before applying for
entry into the United States. Such consid-
ered advice logically merits more attention
than the gratuitous promptings of Jackson
and, indeed, Castro.
Jackson may really have done little more
than bring to light hidden currents in US-
Cuban relations. In June 1984, well before
his trip to Cuba, there were secret conversa-
tions between the State Department and
the Cuban Interests Section in Washington
concerning the backlog of over 5,000 ap-
proved Cuban visa applications. The meet-
ing became known when Jorge Roblejo,
president of an exile group called the "Com-

mittee of Relatives of the One Hundred,"
revealed a conversation he had 5 June with
Cuban Desk official Richard Krieger. Cuba
first offered to hold talks with the US on the
return of excludable entrants in a diplo-
matic note delivered 17 June 1983 in re-
sponse to the 25 May State Department
announcement of the linkage of visas to
repatriation; in reality, visa operations had
been disrupted since May 1980 following
violence outside the US mission in Havana.
Assailed for its 25 May announcement, the
administration sought legal cover, finding it
post hoc in Section 243(g) of the Immigra-
tion and Nationality Act of 1952, which au-
thorizes the president to suspend issuance
of visas in countries unwilling to take back
excluded nationals. In this, as in its pursuit
in the courts of expanded detention powers
for the executive branch, the administration
seems to be arrogating power to set immi-
gration policy univocally. Yet, policymaking
coherence, consistency and leadership,
such as might warrant a secondary role for
Congress and the courts, are still lacking.
Balanced policy consistent with the hu-
manitarian tradition of American immigra-
tion would not countenance the interdiction
of Haitian boats at sea, the indefinite deten-
tion of erstwhile refugees, the scuttling of
carefully crafted amnesty programs such as
Simpson-Mazolli's, or the holding of immi-
grant populations hostage to realpolitik
strategies. As James McGregor Burns ar-
gues in a chess analogy, in a democratic
society, "the most practical advice for lead-
ers is not to treat pawns like pawns, nor
princes like princes, but persons like per-
sons." The more humane policy ultimately
proves to be the more effective policy. O[

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CAI?BBEAN rPEIEW/39

CArBBCAN

r -EVIEWAWARD
We are pleased to accept nominations
for the sixth annual Caribbean Review
Award, an annual presentation to honor
an individual who has contributed to the
advancement of Caribbean intellectual
life.
Winner of the fifth annual award was
C.L.R. James. Previous winners were
Gordon K. Lewis, Philip M. Sherlock, Aim6
C6saire and Sidney W. Mintz.
Nominations are to be sent to the Editor,
Caribbean Review, Florida International
University, Miami, Florida 33199. Nomina-
tions must be received by 15 February
1985. The sixth annual Caribbean Review
Award will be announced at the Tenth An-
niversary Conference of the Caribbean
Studies Association in San Juan, Puerto
Rico, 29 May-1 June 1985.
The Award Committee consists of:
Lambros Comitas (chairman), Columbia
University, New York; Fuat Andic, Univer-
sidad de Puerto Rico, San Juan; Locksley
Edmonson, Cornell University, Ithaca,
New York; Anthony P. Maingot, Florida In-
ternational University, Miami; and Andr6s
Serbin, Universidad Central de Venezu-
ela, Caracas.
The award recognizes individual effort
irrespective of field, ideology, national ori-
gin, or place of residence. The recipient
receives a plaque and an honorarium of
$250, donated by the International Affairs
Center of Florida International University.

Future of

CARICOM
Continued from page 10

never considered imperative. This issue falls
within the area of coordinating foreign pol-
icies where maximum allowance for diver-
gent views is generally accepted. Such
enhanced political cooperation will, however,
be offset to some extent by decreased inter-
est in CARICOM as a diplomatic community
capable of offering support for its members
with territorial problems. The neutralist posi-
tion on the Venezuela-Guyana border dispute
adopted at the Ocho Rios summit in
November 1982 reflects the extent to which
extra-CARICOM regional dependence, par-
ticularly on Venezuela, has crept into the
movement over the decade. It also shows
that Guyana now perceives CARICOM as
being of almost inconsequential relevance to
the protection of its borders.
When viewed against an evolutionary
background, the Grenada crisis and the ex-
isting trade problems demonstrate that
CARICOM is engulfed in a one-step-forward-
two-steps-backward syndrome, in which
mere survival largely remains "the name
of the game." Furthermore, declining
economic significance is accelerating its
movement toward the more limited
common denominator of a Caribbean
Community.

The Prognosis
Experience, in addition to a large body of
analysis on the functioning of integration
movements, would suggest that prospects
for strengthening CARICOM in the foreseea-
ble future are dim. A more likely pattern is
consolidation of limited institutional gains
connected with functional common efforts
and intensified political and cultural cooper-
ation. This would represent an evolution
from CARICOM (with its intended emphasis
on economic cooperation) to a notion of a
Caribbean Community, in which political
and cultural cooperation would serve as the
basic motivation for unity. The margin of
economic benefit would be smaller, though
not totally insignificant, and be subject to a
win-one-lose-one contest in a zero-sum
game.
Such a scenario seems the most feasible
in circumstances where the arrangements
have not worked to the benefit of any country
or group of countries, and no country has a
pathological sense of economic loss. Fur-
thermore, the equitable distribution of bene-
fits through production integration and
specialization is not a requirement for per-
ceived advantage in a context of rapid up-
ward and downward development mobility of
CARICOM's MDCs and LDCs alike, largely
due to fluctuating economic fortunes asso-
ciated with the vagaries of the world eco-
nomic situation.
Events over the past decade have reduced
the status of CARICOM as the only feasible

option for self-reliant development. The pur-
suit of extra-CARICOM opportunities has in-
stead transformed the movement into an
instrument for bargaining with third coun-
tries and regions in an effort to obtain more
favorable terms and conditions of external
support. In this regard, what is particularly
noteworthy is that external capital and mar-
ket access to developed countries are in-
creasingly becoming the pillars of CAR-
ICOM's survival, insofar as they compensate
for regional self-reliant economic features. At
present, the severe foreign exchange crisis,
as well as the debt problems of some CAR-
ICOM members whose economic ills seem
solvable only in the very long run, have
thrown the movement squarely into the
hands of a few external sponsors. The in-
creasing extra-CARICOM interest in the Car-
ibbean Development Bank is just one
indication of the trend.
The region received external support
throughout the past decade because it ac-
quired strategic status with the expansion of
East-West confrontation. Today, however, the
situation is changing rapidly as Western
countries reassert control in the area. This
raises serious doubts about the extent to
which external sponsors, largely Western in
outlook, may wish to continue footing the
bill to keep the economic content of CARI-
COM meaningful, especially in a period of
limited recovery and declining public finan-
cial assistance. But herein lies the challenge
of survival this time around. O

CARICOM
Continued from page 11

ters meeting decides to have a group of
experts review CARICOM.
July. Seventeenth Council of Ministers
meeting in Guyana shelves issue of next
summit meeting pending report of
consultants.
1981-June. Seven smaller Eastern Carib-
bean islands form own group within
CARICOM-Organization of Eastern
Caribbean States (OECS): Antigua and
Barbuda, Dominica, Grenada, Montser-
rat, St. Kitts-Nevis, St. Lucia, St. Vincent
and the Grenadines; (OECS incorpo-
rates Eastern Caribbean Common
Market).
1982-Nov. Third CARICOM Summit in Ja-
maica (rescheduled from July 1982 in
Guyana); attended by 12 member na-
tions and the Bahamas; Suriname and
Haiti, who had applied for membership,
made observers on some ministerial

committees. Declaration of Ocho Rios, a
human rights statement issued as a pro-
tocol to the CARICOM treaty, affirms the
region's belief in "political, civil, eco-
nomic, social and cultural rights...."
The Heads of Government Conference
also recognized that "the emergence of
ideological pluralism in the community
responds to internal processes...."
Maurice Bishop commented that West-
minster parliamentary elections were
"dead" in Grenada: "The five seconds in
five years...kinds of elections and de-
mocracy...." Formal discussion on es-
tablishing a treaty for mutual assistance;
working group will produce discussion
papers on possible treaty options.
1983-Jan. Jamaica introduces two-tier for-
eign exchange system adversely affect-
ing CARICOM trade, particularly be-
tween Jamaica and Barbados.
May. Mini-summit in Barbados to dis-
cuss trade problems; attended by heads
of Antigua, Barbados, Dominica, Ja-
maica, St. Lucia, Trinidad.
July. Fourth CARICOM Summit in Trin-
idad; commemorated 10th anniversary
of Treaty of Chaguaramas. The

Bahamas admitted as 13th member of
CARICOM. Agreement that heads of
government will meet annually during
first week of July. Central Bank to be
established to serve mainly OECS mem-
bers; funding for University of the West
Indies secured. US asked to open CBI to
all CARICOM states. Supported Con-
tadora group's efforts, stating that con-
flict in Central America due to social and
economic ills rather than Cold War ri-
valry; renewed support for Guyana and
Belize in their respective border dis-
putes. Also adopted a Regional Energy
Action Plan and established a CARICOM
Civil Aviation Consultative Committee.
Oct. Emergency meeting in Trinidad
imposing diplomatic and trade sanc-
tions against Grenada.
1984-July. Fifth CARICOM Summit held in
the Bahamas. Haiti, the Dominican Re-
public and Suriname granted observer
status on some committees. Agreement
to study modification of unanimity rule.
Tentative steps taken for removal of trade
barriers and restoration of region's eco-
nomic balance.
-June S. Belkin

40/CAIBBEAN 1 JEW

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* 60 courses on Latin America and the Caribbean each academic year; language training in Spanish, Portuguese
and Haitian Creole.
* 50 faculty specialists in the humanities, social sciences, natural sciences and professional schools.
* Certificate in Latin American and Caribbean Studies; business degree/certificate program.
* Master's degree programs in international studies, economics and international business.
* Founding member, with Department of Economics, of IESCARIBE (Institute of Economic and Social Research of
the Caribbean Basin).
* Translation and Interpretation Program.
* Summer study in Latin America.
* Lectures by distinguished visiting scholars; art exhibits, film series and other extracurricular activities.
* Latin American and Caribbean Students' Association.
* One of the 12 National Resource Centers of Latin American Studies supported by the US Department of Education.
* Annual workshops for public school teachers and journalists.
* Monthly discussion groups with members of business, banking and legal communities.
* Conferences on immigration and refugee policy, business risk in Latin America, Caribbean Basin economic
conditions, Honduras, and Caribbean dialectology.

Library collection rich in area-related materials, particularly for the Caribbean. Latin American and Caribbean
Reading Room housing special collections, bibliographic and reference materials, newspapers, government
documents, and publications of international organizations such as the OAS, CELADE, ECLA, CARIFTA and IDB.
Multidisciplinary research emphasizing the Caribbean Basin; ongoing faculty projects on Haitian and Cuban
migration, Cuban oral history, Honduras, US foreign policy in the Caribbean, urban environment and health,
patterns of social and occupational stratification in Argentina and Costa Rica, the Amazon.
For further information contact:
Latin American and Caribbean Center
Florida International University
Tamiami Trail
Miami, Florida 33199

Latin American and Caribbean Studies Faculty

Irma Alonso, Economics; Carlos Alvarez, Education; Ewart
Archer, International Relations; Gabriel Aurioles, Technology;
Ken I. Boodhoo, International Relations; Manuel Carvajal,
Economics; Forrest Colburn, Political Science; Roberto Cruz,
Economics; Grenville Draper, Physical Sciences; Nancy
Erwin, International Relations; Luis Escovar, Psychology;
Robert Farrell, Education; Gordon Finley, Psychology;
Charles Frankenhoff, Health Services; Fernando Gonzalez-
Reiqosa, Psychology; Marian Goslinga, Library; Lowell
Gudmundson, History; Jerry Haar, International Business;
John Jensen, Modern Languages; Farrokh Jhabvala,
International Relations; Antonio Jorge, Economics; Charles
Lacombe, (Adjunct) Anthropology; David Lee, Biology; William
Leffland, International Affairs Center; Barry B. Levine,
Sociology; Jan Luytjes, International Business; Anthony P.

Maingot, Sociology; Luis Martinez-Perez, Education; James
A. Mau, Sociology; Florentin Maurrasse, Physical Sciences;
Ram6n Mendoza, Modern Languages; Raul Moncarz,
Economics; Olga Nazarlo, (Adjunct) International Relations;
Marta Ortiz, Marketing; Ricardo Pau-Llosa, (Adjunct) Visual
Arts; Leonardo Rodriguez, International Business; Mark B.
Rosenberg, Political Science; Luis P. Salas, Criminal Justice;
Jorge Salazar, Economics; Reinaldo Sdnchez, Modern
Languages; Philip Shepherd, International Business; Alex
Stepick, Anthropology; George Sutija, International Banking;
Mark D. Szuchman, History; Anitra Thorhaug, Biology;
William T. Vickers, Anthropology; Jose T. Villate, Technology;
Maida Watson Espener, Modern Languages; Mira Wilkins,
Economics; Florence L. Yudin, Modern Languages.

Latin American and Caribbean Center

Future of the OAS
Continued from page 14

grated into one body. Created by the OAS
Charter reform of 1967 as a way to give a
stronger development impetus to the OAS,
the councils have had differing fates. CIECC
proved an attractive and appealing force for
the hemisphere's federation of ministers,
while CIES, since the demise of the Alliance
for Progress, has failed to attract ministers
of economy or of the treasury to its annual
deliberations. The region's broad debt and
financial crises have given renewed force to
CIES as a forum for hemispheric dialogue,
but in general, interest in its fortunes con-
tinues low.
The prolonged inability of the OAS to
generate interest among member govern-
ments on its development and technical as-
sistance programs (except for specialized
CIECC areas and in particular economic
fields within CIES) could conceivably be
overcome by integrating both units into an
OAS Regional Development Council. In
practice, this was attempted to some degree
during Ambassador Orfila's eight years as
OAS head, but experts agree that broader
and more determined efforts are required
before amalgamation is achieved. One bar-
rier to this effort is the legal reality that crea-

tion of a new joint development council
could not, under the OAS Charter, occur
formally until a five-year period had elap-
sed. This legal requirement, however, need
not necessarily preclude greater integration
beforehand on a day-to-day basis, a step
which would no doubt prove essential given
the customary reluctance of OAS member
states to change the charter.
Perhaps a major turnabout in the OAS's
image and reality could occur were it to
become involved in some highly creative
thinking on hemispheric development such
as encouraging the Southern Cone nations,
especially Argentina and Brazil, to develop a
genuine common market for their limited
area. Such a movement, especially were it
modeled after the 1957 Treaty of Rome (es-
tablishing the European Economic Com-
munity and European Atomic Energy
Community), might well have the same
powerful impact on improving the world
economy that the European Community
and Japan did between 1957 and 1971.
During that period, the world economy
grew at double the rate known in any pre-
vious era in human history, even during the
"golden age" of capitalism (1894-1914).
Were the OAS to stimulate large-scale di-
alogue on this issue or similar ones, its re-
gional presence might improve overnight.
Working terms and conditions for the in-
ternational career service employees of the
organization itself should be improved. Dur-

ing the 1960s and the period of the Alliance
for Progress, the number of full-time staff
positions rose from 300 to over 1,600, plus
a large number of persons hired on con-
tract. With the end of the Alliance for Pro-
gress, the growth of the organization's work
in education and science (where programs
are carried out frequently through a peer
review process rather than through a large
OAS staff) and general disinterest in its eco-
nomic programs except among the new
Caribbean members, widespread com-
plaints about alleged bureaucratic inertia
became common. In turn the United States,
while also animated by a desire to see Latin
American members play a stronger political
and financial role in the organization, joined
the chorus of those seeking to constrain
OAS budgetary growth. One consequence
to these pressures was that in real terms the
organization's budget at the end of Orfila's
administration in 1984 was about 70 per-
cent of its level eight years earlier. Another
was a reduction in the number of staff posi-
tions from 1,600 to under 1,000 during this
period. Although this drop was offset some-
what by a rise in the number of contract
employees, the latter actually contributed to
the overall decline in the organization's bud-
get since their pension, welfare and benefit
costs are about 40 percent lower than those
of full-time employees.
Yet even as career staff service employees
continue to decline in number, a process

42/CAJBBEAN REVIEW

NIEUWE WEST-INDISCHE GIDS
NEW WEST INDIAN GUIDE
Edited by
H. Hoetink (Man. Ed.), Richard Price, Sally Price (Book Reviews), H.U.E.
Thoden van Velzen, P Wagenaar Hummelinck, L.J. Westermann-van der
Steen.
Now an exclusively English-language journal, the NWIG continues its long
tradition of quality scholarship on Caribbean issues.
Its interdisciplinary scope encompasses anthropology, history, linguistics,
political science, geography, sociology, literary criticism, music and art,
and much more. Contributions cover topics from Brazil to the Bahamas and
from Haiti to Honduras.
Volume 58 (1984) includes contributions by, among others, Derek Bicker-
ton, Bridget Brereton, Stanley Engerman, Neville Hall, lan Hancock, Jerome
Handler, Sidney Mintz, Ransford Palmer, and Michel-Rolph Trouillot. And
the greatly expanded Book Review section, intended to cover all significant
publications on the Caribbean in the social sciences and the humanities,
includes reviews of Gordon Lewis' Main Currents in Caribbean Thought,
Eric Wolf's Europe and the People without History, Marilyn Silverman's
Rich People and Rice, Louis Perez' Cuba between Empires, Bonham
Richardson's Caribbean Migrants, Roger Abrahams' The Man-of- Words in
the West Indies, Mary Turner's Slaves and Missionaries, Ellen Woolford
and William Washabaugh's The Social Context of Creolization, and many
others.
The "new" NWIG is a must for any committed Caribbeanist. A year's
subscription costs only $15; checks, made out to "Treasurer, NWIG,"
should be sent to: Biltseweg 17, 3735 MA Bosch en Duin, Netherlands.
(For payment in Dutch guilders, send f.35 to acct. no. 37.52.44.239,
RABO-bank, Zeist).
Published continuously since 1919

Latin American and Caribbean Center
Occasional Paper Series
OPS 1 de Goes Monteiro, Pedro Aurelio. "The Brazilian
Army in 1925: A Contemporary Opinion."
OPS 2 Haber, Alicia. "Vernacular Culture in Uruguayan Art:
An Analysis of the Work of Pedro Figary, Carlos
Gonzalez and Luis Solari."
OPS 3 Drekonja Kornat, Gerhard. "Colombia: En busqueda
de una political exterior."
OPS 4 Geggus, David. "Slave Resistance Studies and the
Saint Domingue Slave Revolt: Some Preliminary
Considerations."
OPS 5 Santamaria, Daniel. "Iglesia y economic campesina
en el Alto Peru, siglo XVIII."
OPS 6 Perez-L6pez, Jorge F. "Central America's External
Debt in the 1970s and Prospects for the 1980s."
OPS 7 Vilas, Carlos M. "Nicaragua: Una transici6n
diferente."
OPS 8 Rama, Ruth. "Las relaciones econ6micas M6xico-
Estados Unidos: El comercio alimentario,
1950-1982."
$4.00 each
Latin American and Caribbean Center
Florida International University
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that may well speed up unless the member
states suddenly reverse their decade-long
practices and thrust new responsibilities for
development assistance onto the organiza-
tion, greater and more systematic attention
must be given to employee concerns and
rights. Otherwise work stoppages similar to
those that hit the General Secretariat in re-
cent years-and which have also affected
other international institutions-are bound
to spread in intensity.
With the election of a new secretary gen-
eral in 1984 by unanimous vote of the 32
member governments, an unprecedented
happening, some observers express hope
that the role of the organization's admin-
istrative chief will be upgraded, giving him
more independence and responsibility,
somewhat along the lines of the secretary
general of the United Nations. In many re-
spects, the OAS administrative leader is a
"toothless wonder" even though he does
have a voice in the OAS forum and can also
exercise, should he choose, considerable
moral force in helping the member states
arrive at a decision.
Yet the fact remains that both the first and
fifth OAS heads, Alberto Lleras Camargo
and Alejandro Orfila, resigned on the
grounds that the post lacked any real power
or authority. While some eyebrows were
raised when Orfila voiced this issue in his
resignation speech, perhaps because he
had held the post for eight years without
pointing to the problem, the Ueras Camar-
go statement 30 years earlier is still re-
garded as a landmark in thinking about the
OAS and its regional role. Although the gov-
erning council did listen respectfully to the
views of Lleras Camargo in 1954, it made

Florida International U
Tamiami Trail, Miami, F

Vol. V-No.3--o D -OVol. X No.3 OD
Vol.V No.. 1 -L -Vol. X No. 4 LD
-Vo:V _-No.:2 _- Vol. XI No, 1* O
Vol.VV No.4 0 :Vol.XI No.2' D
Vol VI : No. 2 -D Vol. XI- No3 Li
-V61.:VI No.-3 Vol.XI No.4 F
Vol. VII No. 1 Q Vol,-XII No.2 D
.Vol.VII -No: -2- L- Vol.XII No.3-. 0:
VoVl.-VI No.3 ; Vol.XII- No.4 i-
Vol I U V1XoIII No.f
-Vol;X .-No 1 -- _iVol-l:l .-. 2 -
Vol.X X N6. 2 Li" VoL-Xli No.-3-,
Two-srded photocopies.

amply clear in subsequent discussions that
the members had no intention whatsoever
of giving any secretary general stronger
powers. This has been the pattern since,
and is shown even in minor ways such as
Orfila's predecessor Galo Plaza, formerly
president of Ecuador, being advised by the
Permanent Council that he was not to use
the title "president."
In recent years this same view on con-
straining the powers of the secretary gen-
eral has been expressed in diverse ways. A
senior Mexican figure stated the matter
forcefully in a Washington debate: "One
person with the authority to the world like
the UN secretary general is enough." So
intense is the desire of OAS members to
diffuse power among the organization's
various organs, including the General Sec-
retariat, that the chairmanship of the organ-
ization's day-to-day governing body, the
Permanent Council, automatically rotates
every three months. While the secretary
general can exercise considerable authority
by force of his diplomatic skills and pres-
ence, a five-year period would have to
elapse before any efforts could be achieved
to enhance his power via charter reform.
The current situation clearly places a
great burden on a secretary general deter-
mined to get a grip on the elusive manage-
rial reins of the organization, which, unless
existing trends are suddenly reversed, fre-
quently cannot be used. This does not
mean that the secretary general cannot play
a strategic role in determining the organiza-
tion's fortunes, but in practice he can act
only as and when the members authorize
him to do so, as is evident from the fact that
the Central American turmoil has not yet

-Please charge to my MasterCard- L

Account-No.

Signature -

---Address

City.. '-7..

been placed on the OAS's agenda by any of
its 32 member states.
With the OAS being attacked, both bythe
member states and by the media, as ineffi-
cient, irrelevant or worse, what can be done
to improve its direction and capacities? The
answer is still, as Lleras Camargo insisted in
1954, that the organization can only be what
its members want it to be. Thus it will likely
remain out of the spotlight and on the side-
lines of regional affairs. On the other hand,
the record shows that the OAS has, on
many occasions, blunted or stopped threats
to international peace in the hemisphere, or
assured that collective action by its mem-
bers proceeded on a legally valid basis. Over
the past decade its once-flourishing peace-
keeping activities have drifted into other
hands, with the Contadora Group seeking
to provide leadership in constraining the
dogs of potential international war in Cen-
tral America, and Pope John Paul II mediat-
ing a territorial dispute between Argentina
and Chile.
Nonetheless, the institution's principles
remain sound; its basic structure is intact;
and it still serves as a regional court of last
resort whereby international peace can be
maintained. Perhaps when another crisis
erupts to test its treaties and capacities (the
1982 Malvinas dispute did not do so be-
cause the United Nations had jurisdiction
over this quarrel between an OAS member
and an extra-continental power), the organ-
ization's members will succeed in reviving
its fortunes. Effective response to crises:
that is how the OAS has made its mark over
the past 90 years, and there is little reason to
doubt that it can do so again as it ap-
proaches its centennial. O

Visa

E- xpiration Dale _

SZji ip

CAIBBEAN I~IEW/43

university
lorida 33199 -

Pleasesened -ethe'e back'issuds 'idid cated -
-U.A check for $500 per issue is enclose .-, :-- .

]

HACENDADOS, POLITICOS Y
PRECARISTAS: LA GANADERIA
Y EL LATINFUNDISMO
GUANACASTECO 1800-1950
by Lowell Gudmundson
The first work to deal extensively with the
history of cattle raising and Guanacaste
Province in Costa Rica. Four essays ana-
lyze the expropriation of cattle herds in the
late colonial period, the structure of
landed property and history of stockrais-
ing in the 1850-1950 period, peasants in
the 1910s and 1920s, and the history of the
mining district in the first third of the 20th
century.
EDITORIAL COSTA RICA
SAN JOSE/1983

AUTHORS:

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CUBA
AS A MODEL
AND A
CHALLENGE
by Kenneth N. Skoug, Jr.
S1 !.L I A 'l dM I

The Cubn American Naional Foundadtion

An analysis of Cuban-American
Relations by Kenneth N.
Skoug, Jr., Director, Office of
Cuban Affairs, U.S. Depart-
ment of State.
"Mr. Skoug makes a valuable
contribution to the ongoing
discussion of Cuban-American
relations . a U.S. appraisal
of its ties with Cuba ought to
be based on a thorough under-
standing of Castro's motiva-
tions. .. ."
Dante B. Fascell, Chairman
Committee on Foreign Affairs
U.S. House of Representatives
Copies available from:
CUBAN AMERICAN NATIONAL FOUNDATION
1000 Thomas Jefferson Street, N.W. Suite 601
Washington, DC 20007

OAS
Continued from page 15

the social improvement and economic
development of the countries and laid
the foundation of the Alliance for
Progress.
1961 The Alliance for Progress became a
reality when the OAS adopted the Char-
ter of Punta del Este and the Declaration
to the Peoples of America.
1962 Eighth Meeting of Consultation (un-
der the Rio Treaty), Punta del Este, Uru-
guay; approved a resolution excluding
the government of Cuba from participa-
tion in the inter-American system.
1964 Ninth Meeting of Consultation (under
the Rio Treaty), Washington, DC; con-
demned the government of Cuba for its
acts of aggression and intervention
against Venezuela, and requested the
American states to suspend diplomatic
relations and their trade with the govern-
ment of Cuba, except for humanitarian
reasons.
First Special Inter-American Con-
ference, Washington, DC; approved the
Act of Washington that sets guidelines
for the admission of new members.
1965 Tenth Meeting of Consultation (under
the charter), Washington, DC; consid-
ered the "serious situation created by
armed strife in the Dominican Republic"
and created an Inter-American Peace
Force.
1967 Third Special Inter-American Con-
ference, Buenos Aires, Argentina; ap-
proved the Protocol of Amendments to
the Charter of the OAS (Known as Pro-
tocol of Buenos Aires) that entered into
effect in 1970.
Twelfth Meeting of Consultation (under
the Charter) Washington, DC; culmi-
nated in a resolution that vigorously con-
demned the Cuban government for its
repeated acts of aggression and inter-
vention against Venezuela, Bolivia and
other American states and urged non-
member states to cooperate in a trade
embargo.
Barbados and Trinidad and Tobago be-
came new members of the OAS.
1969 Thirteenth Meeting of Consultation,
Washington, DC (under the Rio Treaty);
held for the purpose of resolving the
armed conflict that broke out between El
Salvador and Honduras.
Jamaica became a member of the OAS.
1970 The OAS Charter, as amended by the
Protocol of Buenos Aires, entered into

force on February 27. The General As-
sembly replaced the Inter-American
Conference.
1974 Fifteenth Meeting of Consultation
(under the Rio Treaty), Quito, Ecuador;
requested by the governments of Co-
lombia, Costa Rica and Venezuela, which
submitted a draft resolution to revoke all
sanctions against Cuba. This resolution
failed to achieve the necessary two-
thirds majority.
1975 Sixteenth Meeting of Consultation
(under the Rio Treaty) San Jose, Costa
Rica; freed the state parties to the Rio
Treaty to normalize their relations with
Cuba.
Grenada became a member state of the
OAS.
1976 Agreement signed by Honduras and
El Salvador at OAS headquarters, under
which they sought to end the hostilities
between them dating back to 1969, by
accepting the good offices of a mediator.
1977 Suriname became a member of the
OAS.
1978 Entry into force of the American Con-
vention on Human Rights establishing
the Inter-American Court on Human
Rights.
1979 Entry into force of the Panama Canal
Treaty and the Treaty Concerning the
Permanent Neutrality of the Operation of
the Panama Canal.
Dominica and Saint Lucia became
members of the OAS.
1980 Deposit of the peace treaty between
El Salvador and Honduras at OAS
headquarters.
1981 Nineteenth Meeting of Consultation
(under the charter), Washington, DC; ac-
knowledged the cease-fire and commit-
ment made by Ecuador and Peru to
reestablish peace, and their acceptance
of monitoring of the cease-fire.
Inter-American Convention on Extradi-
tion was approved.
St. Vincent and the Grenadines, and
Antigua and Barbuda became mem-
bers of the OAS.
1982 Twentieth Meeting of Consultation,
convened by the Permanent Council on
April 26 to consider Malvinas crisis;
urged Great Britain and Argentina to call
a truce and proceed with negotiations,
taking into account "rights of sov-
ereignty of the Republic of Argentina
over the Malvinas Islands and the inter-
ests of the islanders."
The Bahamas became a member of the
OAS.
1983 St. Kitts-Nevis became a member of
the OAS.

44/CAI?BBEAN PVI6W

Role of the Press
Continued from page 19

School of Journalism which, at the height of
the PNP-Gleaner struggle in 1979, awarded
a prestigious Maria Moors Cabot citation of
merit to the Gleaner for defending freedom
of the press in Jamaica. Clearly, there was an
ideological embrace among such institu-
tions which saw the privately owned
Gleaner as a symbol for the free press
which, in essence, means a Westminster-
type adversary role and one inspired by
free-enterprise interests.
Seaga, whose conservative Jamaica La-
bour Party came into power in 1980, as-
sumed responsibility for government
information and quickly promised to review
the policies and purge the management of
the state-owned television (Jamaica Broad-
casting Corporation), radio (Radio Jamaica
Rediffusion) and newspaper (Daily News).
Seaga accused these media of taking "polit-
ical directions from Manley's PNP" Seaga
also criticized Manley for attempting to in-
troduce an agency for public information,
which would have centralized the PNP gov-
ernment propaganda machinery. Both
Manley and the Press Association of Ja-

maica strongly criticized Seaga for such
threats to the media.
The struggle between the pro-JLP
Gleaner and Manley's PNP naturally sub-
sided when the JLP took over, but Manley's
sympathizers in the media continued to of-
fer pockets of resistance to what they saw as
Seaga's oppression of "freedom of
thought." When Seaga did, in fact, fire 13
journalists in his "purge" of state-owned
television, these journalists took the govern-
ment to court to determine the legality of
their dismissals.
It is also interesting to note that on 5 July
1981, the Gleaner renewed its application
to the JLP government for a license to oper-
ate a television and a radio station; the PNP
administration had previously rejected the
Gleaner's application. Moreover, while in
power in 1979, Manley's PNP moved in the
Jamaican Parliament to severely censure
the Gleaner and its evening paper, The
Star. The motion stated that the Gleaner
should be condemned for the "daily pub-
lication of vitriolic propaganda against the
prime minister, the government, and the
People's National Party," and for its attempts
to "vulgarly manipulate the truth to the det-
riment of the journalistic profession as part
of its design to demoralize the masses." The
Gleaner promptly retaliated and was joined
by the US media as well as the other private

media in the Caribbean. The Trinidad Ex-
press, for example, editorialized: "The Ja-
maican situation is a grim one, bordering
on tragedy, and we take no satisfaction in
referring to that unhappy state of affairs."
The ideological embrace between the
JLP and the Gleaner tightened with the JLP
electoral victory in October 1980. The pa-
per wrote in a front-page editorial: "The
people of Jamaica have said an emphatic
no to socialism... but even more than that,
they have accepted the JLP view that our
economic distress was due to PNP mis-
management." The same day, the private
sector organization of Jamaica strongly
echoed those views. And the private media
across the Caribbean joined as well, con-
firming the strong support they lent to the
Gleaner in its successful struggle against
Manley.

False Consciousness?
The Caribbean press has consistently
maintained that the freedom it enjoys is
identical to that enjoyed by the population.
And both must be preserved. It further ar-
gues that any governmental control of the
press, or monopoly of the media, is an ero-
sion of the people's right to freedom of infor-
mation. From at least two Caribbean
governments, Grenada and Guyana, this
right has been seriously challenged. Infor-

CAIBBEAN viW/45

GEOPOLITICA DE LAS
RELACIONES DE VENEZUELA
CON EL CARIBE
Andr6s Serbin (editor)
_4**
La Cuenca del Caribe constitute un drea crucial para
los intereses geopoliticos y econ6micos venezolanos.
GEOPOLITICA DE LAS RELACIONES DE
VENEZUELA CONEL CARIBE reitne los trabajos
de los mds destacados investigadores que, desde
Venezuela, se encuentran estudiando las relaciones
entire este pais y los estados caribefos y los
process sociopoliticos que afectan a estos ultimos.

Demetrio Boersner Francine Jacome
Beatriz Ciceres de Pefaur Leslie Manigat
Pedro Cunill Grau Jose Moreno Colmenares
Roland T. Ely Alberto A. Muller Rojas
Rita Giacal6n de Romero Kaldone Nweihed
Carlos Guer6n Leoncio Pinto
Mirlande Hippolite de Manigat
Carlos Romero Andr6s Serbin
Paper: $US 10.00 (incluye envio)
Fundaci6n Fondo Editorial Acta
Cientifica Venezolana
Asociaci6n Venezolana para el Avance de la Ciencia
Edificio AsoVAC FUNDAVAC
Av. Never Colinas de Bello Monte Caracas Venezuela

International Conference
HONDURAS: AN INTERNATIONAL
DIALOGUE
29 November-1 December 1984
Holiday Inn on Biscayne Bay
.at Brickell Point, Miami, Florida

Commissioned papers and commentaries presented by
Hondurans representing diverse sectors and interests
will examine five issues: problems of democracy,
human rights, economic development and productivity,
agricultural policy and prospects, and foreign policy
and national security.
Sponsored by the Latin American and Caribbean
Center and the International Affairs Center of Florida
International University with support from The Ford
Foundation, and United Brands.

For further information contact:
Dr. Elizabeth Lowe
Latin American and Caribbean Center
Florida International University
Miami, Florida 33199
(305) 554-2894

mation control, however, should be consid-
ered in the context of the political system
involved. This is necessary when national
goals are seriously at stake, because infor-
mation is not neutral. The objective by gov-
ernments is largely to persuade, and to
persuade in their own political interest,
which may not necessarily be in the na-
tional interest.
In the Third World, especially those coun-
tries spawned from British colonialism,
government structures range from one-
party states to an almost unmanageable
number of parties. And there is the Grenada
case of a government in power, with one
party, not formally elected-a revolutionary
government. Government controls over in-
formation and journalists vary according to
the insecurity experienced by the party in
power. And the results range from mild cen-
sorship to blatant coercion. The essential
point is that in the Westminster system,
such as that now in effect in most Caribbean
states, the ruling party dominates the gov-
ernment, and the checks and balances are
generally ritualistic. The prime minister as
chief executive has dictatorial powers in his
cabinet. He is usually head of his political
party. To have governmental control over
the media and journalists would therefore
give, quite unfairly, one party a very strong
advantage over the others.
Controversies are aggravated when the
government does not enjoy clear or over-
whelming majority support. Problems also
occur where the plurality of local interests

Scholarly
multidisciplinary
journal CEIANL
devoted entirely SIIES
to Cuba UO

include cultural differences or political
views which strive to find expression for
radical change. In the context of Caribbean
political structure, the question boils down
to this: Which is a better guarantor of press
freedom, a government dominated by the
political interests of one party, or a group of
businessmen dominated by the need to sell
its newspaper product successfully? There
is, of course, much common ground. Both
plead the public interest. The question is
perhaps better put this way: Which of the
two would be more responsive to the pub-
lic? Grenada and Guyana have shown that
once in power, and for whatever reasons,
governments develop a range of techniques
to monopolize political power. As a "free-
floating commodity," however, a news-
paper can fail under heavy public pressure;
furthermore, another newspaper can open.
This brings up another issue. Supporters
of the PRG have branded the Caribbean
media as representing minority interests.
Caribbean novelist George Lamming told
the Oilfield Workers' Union in Trinidad:
"Every national daily in the region, the
Gleaner, the Advocate and the Guardian,
has a history of a certain voice.... It spoke
in the interest of a minority ruling group."
Lamming was condemning the press for
attacking the PRG in Grenada. An official of
the Communist Party of Trinidad and To-
bago, James Millette, agreed with Lam-
ming, adding: "West Indian newspapers...
have always represented a minority reac-
tionary view in West Indian society."

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The irony in such responses is that they
appear in the very newspapers they so ve-
hemently attack. The argument of "token-
ism" or "pretense to be fair" may be present,
but it is not enough to prevent the following
question: Why do alternative newspapers
designed to carry a purported "majority
view" consistently fail in the Caribbean?
The fact that publications such as the
Gleaner and Express do succeed says
something fundamental about business
management, public confidence, and Ca-
ribbean democracy. A revolutionary cannot
expect to have his views well supported in
any of these newspapers when his attack is
also directed against the very existence of
these papers. Political shortcuts such as
those taken by the PRG also face tremen-
dous odds in the Caribbean media. Any
attack on the right to private property is an
attack on the free press. The conflict is
therefore inevitable.
It is here that the psychology of the media
must also be considered. Confidence in the
press is enhanced when the public sees
newspapers consistently taking tough
stands against apartheid, corrupt politi-
cians, corrupt elections, vice and immor-
ality. Public confidence in the press is
enhanced when citizens can write letters to
the editor and have their social activities
published and their daily grievances argued
in the news pages. Press freedom thus be-
comes part of community folklore. This is
the kind of psychological relationship be-
tween the public and the press which may
very well baffle the Marxist whose intense
concerns are with private ownership and
false consciousness.
In the present political circumstances,
Caribbean people would more likely trust
information coming from the independent
press than from the hands of politicians.
The private media has taken the view that its
right to publish is a firm manifestation of the
plurality of interests which must flourish in a
multi-party democracy. Thus any informa-
tional strategy adopted by a ruling regime
must also take into account competing
sources of information. The PRG's attempts
at media control lost the battle with the
press in the Caribbean. Gradually, the PRG's
attempts took on the appearance of propa-
ganda rather than a "developmental exer-
cise." Although the PRG was in the region, it
was gradually made to appear as outside of
it, and, in a sense, treacherous to it. This was
the kind of impact made by the press's criti-
cisms against it.
The free press insists that control by gov-
ernments be totally rejected. As "an instru-
ment of public expression," the press also
has the responsibility to ensure that the gov-
ernment in power is a properly elected gov-
ernment. This is the moral force which the
free press in the Caribbean sees itself enjoy-
ing, and it is part of the legacy left by the
collapse of the PRG in Grenada. O

46/CA1?BBEAN REVIEW

Tainos
Continued from page 23

cording to Hern&n Perez de Oliva, in his
version of the myth, apparently extracted
from Pane's writings.
Another myth, reminiscent of Asian and
Yucatan myths about the universal deluge,
tells of the creation of the sea. According to
the Tainos, there was a man named Yaya
who had a son named Yayael. The son
wished to kill his father, but the father dis-
owned him first and later killed him, placing
his bones in a gourd, which he hung from
the ceiling of his house. One day Yaya
wanted to see his son, so he and his wife
opened the gourd, finding that the bones
had turned into fish, which they ate. But on
another day, when Yaya and his wife were
away, the four children of a woman who had
died giving birth to quadruplets came to the
house, and one of them took down the
gourd and started to eat the fish. Suddenly
they heard Yaya returning, and in scram-
bling to hang up the gourd, it fell to the
ground and broke. So much water poured
from the gourd that it covered the earth, and
fish came forth too, and that was the origin
of the sea.
These myths were transmitted by word of
mouth from one generation to the next by
the most respected elders of the family, clan
or tribe. They formed part of a body of
beliefs which were organized in measured
verse, and always sung in exactly the same
way at gatherings called areytos. These
were celebrations of past events in the life of
the tribe which were considered important
enough to be remembered. They were ap-
parently primarily didactic, and tended to
reinforce tribal unity, creating a feeling of
identity with, and participation in, a com-
mon history.
More practical aspects of the Tainos' re-
ligion were carried out by the behiques,
who made ample use of black magic in
healing the sick. These medicine men were
"great herbalists and knew the [medicinal]
properties of many trees, plants and herbs;
and because they healed many with this art,
they were objects of great veneration and
respect." Each witch doctor had his own
idols which were believed to have curative
properties. Some Taino idols were more im-
portant than others because of their use in
rituals relating to rain, planting, harvesting
and the death cult.
The Tainos' animism and spiritualism led
them to assign religious significance and
representation to many of the objects they
made for daily use, which they decorated
with symbolic designs. Similar designs ap-
pear in caves and bathing places where the
Tainos left many pictures and petroglyphs
with clear religious allegories and natu-

realistic themes. Paintings and engravings of
birds, alligators and crustacea which formed
part of their diet are frequent, alternating
with other, more abstract, drawings related
to religious life.
But the Tainos' artistic and religious
imagination is best captured in their stone
and ceramic work. More durable than wood,
cloth or fiber, it has remained as testimony
to their ability to express their views of their
world and surroundings. Several themes are
repeated in Taino art: sex, illness, bats, tur-
tles, frogs, birds, human heads with bared
teeth, the hicatee tortoise, female breasts,
big eyes and, occasionally, dogs and
monkeys. Typical of Taino art (and a readily
distinguishing factor among the various
prehistoric art styles) is the balanced geo-
metric design of lines ending in rounded
points, alternating with anthropomorphic
and zoomorphic figures.
Nowhere else in the Antilles did Taino art
achieve the abstract complexity and figur-
ative richness developed by artesans of His-
paniola. The similarity of styles and
profusion of pieces with similar finishes,
decoration and materials points to the exis-
tence of specialists in the production of
idols, amulets, duhos (stools used by caci-
ques), body ornaments and ceramics.

Extinction
Recent demographic studies show that the
population of Hispaniola at the time of dis-
covery must have numbered 400,000. This
reflects a relatively low density and favor-
able man-to-land ratio. Hence the Tainos
could obtain an abundance of food from
their environment with minimal effort. This
is one reason that they were so vulnerable to
the intense labor imposed by the Spanish.
Forced labor and sudden exposure to Eu-
ropean germs and diseases, combined with
abortions and mass suicides practiced to
escape slavery, caused a rapid drop in the
population, and within a few years the vir-
tual disappearance of all children. In 1508,
according to the first census taken when it
became apparent that the Indians were
about to vanish, there were only 60,000 Tai-
nos left. In 1510, only 40,000 remained; the
1511 census showed 33,523; and in 1514,
according to an analysis of the last census
carried out that year, there was a total popu-
lation of 26,334 Indians, of which only 1,463
were children.
The final collapse came at the end of
1518 and beginning of 1519, when a small-
pox epidemic swept the island, killing all but
2,500 of the remaining 11,000 Tainos.
From then on, only a few brave and re-
bellious Indians survived by going into the
mountains and escaping Spanish colonial
rule. A few of these were able to grow old
and leave descendants, but in 1568, when a
census of the Spanish population was taken,
only 13 Tainos were found on the island of
Hispaniola. El

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I

First Impressions

Critics Look at the New Literature

Compiled by Forrest D. Colburn

Between a Rock and a Hard Place
Cuba Between Empires, 1872-1902.
Louis A. P6rez, Jr. 490 pp. University of
Pittsburgh Press, Pittsburgh, 1983.

Louis Perez describes the convoluted pas-
sage of Cuba from colony of Spain to
tutelary republic of the United States. Sup-
ported by a formidable bibliographic effort,
Perez presents his evidence that American
policy "was directed as much against
Cuban independence as it was against
Spanish sovereignty." Perez gives us a dis-
passionate appraisal of the basic purposes
of United States policy toward Cuba, of the
contradictions between the insurrectionist
movement, and of the fateful and desperate
attempts by Spain to avoid disaster.
Successive United States' administra-
tions misperceived Cuba, trying to possess
her but failing to understand her. American
policy was rooted in the intuitive certainty
that Cuba would be part of the union, and in
the conviction of the ultimate inefficacy of
Cuban independence. Before entering the
fray, "Americans never quite defined the
means by which the United States would
acquire Cuba." The executive and Congress
remained at odds about ends and means.
Grant had to resist pressures for the recog-
nition of Cuban belligerancy; Cleveland was
confronted with an April 1896 joint resolu-
tion to that effect; McKinley found himself in
a footrace "to negotiate a peace settlement
... [and] transfer of the island before Con-
gress declared war on Spain in behalf of
Cuban independence." Once his March
1898 offer to purchase the island was re-
buffed by Spain, McKinley was forced to
compromise and accept an amendment of-
fered by senator Henry Teller, which sought
to give some guarantees about Cuban
independence.
Washington's inability to orchestrate po-
litical developments in Cuba to its satisfac-
tion must be seen as the ultimate revenge of
the Cubans for the intervention and the Platt
Amendment. Perez missed a good chance
to link the two and relate this to the un-
wieldiness and incompatibility of some of
the principal actors within the Cuban camp.
The raw materials for this fishing expedition
are in the book, but Perez instead chose to
overdraw the degree to which distinctions

Forrest D. Colburn teaches political science at
Florida International University.

between civilians and mambises, legalists
and insurrectionists, autonomists and sep-
aratists, habaneros and orientales, and
others may have formed a pattern of
cumulative cleavages. On the other hand,
his contention that the insurrection con-
tained the ferment of a social revolution is
well taken although not substantiated en-
tirely. By contrast with others like Hugh
Thomas, who could see little rationality or
patriotism in the behavior of the Cubans,
Perez patiently shows the dire predicament,
limited options, and desire to compromise
which guided them. Neither does he fall for a
chauvinistic defense of a beatific interpreta-
tion of Cuban political history.
Basically, Perez suggests that the imper-
fect consensus prevailing within insurrec-
tionist ranks was constantly imperiled by
confrontations between the expatriate dele-
gation and those in Cuba and, within the
latter, between the politicians and the mili-
tary. This persistent Cuban reality haunted
not only the North American annexationist
effort but also the Cubans' ability to deliver
the final and lethal blow against Spain.
However, one must question the ultimate
significance of all these differences since,
once Spain was vanquished, the actors
showed a remarkable willingness to accom-
modate to the new reality, accept the Platt
Amendment, and not give the Yankees an
excuse to prolong their stay. These discre-
pancies were not, one must conclude,
among antagonistic actors insofar as the
Cuban side was concerned.
ENRIQUE A. BALOYRA
University of North Carolina
Chapel Hill, North Carolina

Not Greasy Kid Stuff
Oil and Politics in Latin America: Na-
tionalist Movements and State
Companies. George Philip. 577 pp.
Cambridge University Press, 1982.

George Philip contends that much of the
economic history of the 20th century could
be written about the oil industry. This con-
clusion may be particularly true of Latin
America, where development of oil produc-
tion and consumption are indicators of in-
dustrialization and urbanization. Since
Philip covers the entire subject, his study is
actually three volumes in one, dealing with
the role of foreign oil companies in catapult-

ing Latin America into the world oil system,
analyzing the nationalist campaigns that
eroded the economic and political
hegemony of the big companies, and treat-
ing the formation and growth of the state
enterprises that have dominated the oil in-
dustry in the past several decades.
The value of Philip's work lies in its ana-
lytical regard for the place of Latin America
in the world system without the presump-
tions that often mar national oil studies. The
companies are seen neither as sinister im-
perialists nor as disinterested harbingers of
progress, but as businessmen who sought
profit in a volatile international environ-
ment. As some theory suggests, the na-
tional elites did cooperate with foreign
interests, profiting as lawyers, landowners
and government officials. But these same
elites, through renegotiation of concessions,
increased taxes and expropriation of assets,
ultimately and successfully humbled the
powerful foreign companies.
As for diplomatic support, Philip says that
the interests of home governments have not
always coincided with those of the oil com-
panies. The US State Department tended to
mediate the issues. On record, the US has
opposed state enterprises, but international
considerations often motivated North
American policymakers to even provide the
financing for national oil companies in
Latin America. "US or European consum-
ers who have seen the world price of crude
oil increase from under $2.00 a barrel in
1970 to around $35.00 a barrel in 1980,"
Philip writes, "may have reason to reflect
upon either the ineptitude of 20th-century
imperialists or the limitations of 20th-cen-
tury imperialism."
Philip studies the major expropriations
within the framework of the bargaining
model, which assumes that the conflict of
interests between foreign companies and
host nation increases over time, as do the
potential advantages of the host. The pro-
cess of expropriation and of creating na-
tional oil enterprises began in the 1930s.
The depression caused balance-of-pay-
ment problems; the ideology of import-sub-
stituting industrialization had become
fashionable; and the attention of the United
States was diverted by its own economic
rehabilitation. "It is certainly clear," Philip
suggests, "that the initial impetus towards
oil nationalisation came not from diffuse
popular pressure but from the political
elite." Most expropriations have resulted

48/CARBBEAN IFVI W

from national political environments of ex-
treme polarization. Often, leaders sought to
nationalize the oil companies as a device to
gain broad popular support. Because pe-
troleum nationalism has been undertaken
for short-term political gains, the economic
effects have often been disastrous. Subse-
quently, the Peruvians, Ecuadorians, Argen-
tines and Bolivians have had to invite
foreign oilmen back in order to revive pro-
duction and exploration.
Many of Philip's conclusions, such as his
characterization of the Mexican expropria-
tion as less than popularly inspired, will
stimulate debate. Although there exists in
this volume much to inform economists,
historians and political scientists, notably
missing is the oil industry of Colombia,
where the transition from private foreign
industry to state ownership in the early
1950s was smooth, cooperative and conse-
quently undramatic. Nor, except for Mexico,
is there much detail about the labor rela-
tions of the private or national concerns.
JONATHAN C. BROWN
The University of Texas
Austin, Texas

International Eleuthera
Tryin' to Make It: Adapting to the
Bahamas. John Bregenzer. 88 pp.
University Press of America, Washington
D.C., 1982. $7.00.

Bregenzer sets out to challenge what he
calls "the myth of the tropical isle"-the con-
ventional notion thattropical islands are iso-
lated paradises. He contends that Eleuthera,
a Bahamian out island of some 10,000 per-
sons, is situated, through tourism, trade and
migration, in the international system and
its discontents. He contradicts this claim,
however, by proposing that low wages are
the sole reason for Eleuthera's failure to con-
form to the myth: "...with sufficient income,
it could be a paradise."
He suggests that Eleutherans are "indi-
vidually autonomous and not socially co-
hesive." Bregenzer explains: "Eleutheran
individualism consists of a high respect for
the rights and personal freedom of others. It
is more imposed on the individual than
sought. It necessarily implies low social co-
hesiveness." In the same breath he states
that church congregations, although the-
ologically divided, are "certainly cohesive
social units." And he describes the annual
commemoration of emancipation from
slavery as "a most important Bahamian hol-
iday, a time of solidarity, in which many
return to their homes in the out islands." If
this sounds simplistic and confusing, it is.
Like other marginal territories in the Ca-
ribbean, the Bahamas is partly a caricature
of the plantation West Indies and partly a
separate case, the result of an economic
history that has had to do with providing

support and ancillary services, often
quasilegal, for both the US and the West
Indies, as well as functioning as a mediator
between them. An understanding of this
role is valuable in itself, and is also essential
for a broad, comparative perspective on the
Caribbean region as a whole. This book fails
badly to make that sort of contribution to
Caribbean studies.
FRANK E. MANNING
The University of Western Ontario
London, Ontario

1605 Dominican Pages
Antologia literaria dominicana. Margarita
Vallejo de Paredes, ed. 1605 pp. Editora
Corripio, Santo Domingo, 1981.

This literary anthology, the most extensive
and ambitious ever published in the Do-
minican Republic, has been published un-
der the auspices of the Instituto Tecnol6gico
de Santo Domingo (INTEC). It is an impor-
tant contribution to the organization of the
study of Dominican literature.
The anthology is organized according to
genre: one volume each for poetry; short
story; theater; speeches, biographical
sketches and essays; folklore, with a
cumulative index at the end. It is immedi-
ately obvious that the novel genre has been
omitted, a shortcoming of this otherwise
ambitious work. Even if the novel in the
Dominican Republic has not reached the
level of development of, say, poetry or short
story, and even if the difficulty of including
such a genre is understandable, a sixth vol-
ume dedicated to the novel should be
added. Fragments of important novels
might be selected from outstanding authors
such as Galvan, Belini, Garcia Godoy, Ce-
stero and others if the extension of novels is
too great to include the complete texts.
The volume on poetry is the most com-
plete because of the variety of authors and
the choice of most of the poets in this sec-
tion. The amount of material in this genre
probably contributed to the volume's
richness. Generally, Vallejo de Paredes has
chosen a few long but important poems
instead of a random series of short ones.
This has some advantages, one of them
being the presentation of works that are
good examples of the poetics of the author.
Vallejo de Paredes' selection of the major
Dominican poets, Pedro Mir and Tomas
Fernandez Franco, among others, is cer-
tainly appropriate. Nevertheless, perhaps
this volume should have included some of
those younger poets who already have im-
portant books published, such as Cayo
Claudio Espinal, Jose Enrique Garcia, and
others.
The volume on the short story is also
exhaustive, but does not establish any dif-
ference between short story and legend, es-
tampa, tradici6n, etc. Hugo Tolentino Dipp,

whose importance is really as an essayist,
seems out of place. His reputation is mainly
in the historical essay.
The volume on theater is less satisfactory
because there are some playwrights that
are unjustifiably excluded. Jos6 Alc6ntara
AlmAnzar wrote a relatively brief but inter-
esting introduction to this volume, and he
mentions the importance of the plays of
Ivan Garcia in the theater of the Dominican
Republic. It is lamentable that this outstand-
ing playwright is not included among those
selected by Vallejo de Paredes. Also, Frank-
lin Dominguez's play, Se busca un hombre
honest, would have been a fitting addi-
tion. The selections in the volume of
speeches, biographical sketches and essays
is rather traditional and has several inex-
cusable omissions: Juan Isidro Jimenes
Grull6n, Pedro Troncoso Sanchez, Juan
Francisco Sanchez, for example. The inclu-
sion of a volume on folklore represents a
correct approach toward a less traditional
classification of the corpus of literary pro-
duction; it is indeed a form of literary
expression.
There have been several literary an-
thologies published to date in the Domin-
ican Republic, but in most of them poetry
overshadows the other genres. This is not a
shortcoming of Vallejo de Paredes' work;
she makes a major effort to compile a great
number of authors and works. There is no
doubt that this anthology is a milestone in
the organization of literary production in the
Dominican Republic. It is a major source of
information, providing a general overview
of Dominican literature-not a small ac-
complishment by any means. Professor
Margarita Vallejo de Paredes and INTEC are
to be commended for a successful effort
that will benefit all of us.
EMILIO BEJEL
University of Florida
Gainesville, Florida

Three Rebellious Lieutenants
Lengthening Shadows: Birth and Revolt
of the Trinidad Army. S. Hylton Edwards.
154 pp. Imprint Caribbean, Ltd., Trinidad
and Tobago, 1982.

This book documents well Stewart Hylton
Edwards' background in the British Royal
Marines in five chapters of text and pictures
about World War II. It also records early on
the author's view that the West Indian is-
lands which had "a governor, a chief minis-
ter, a cabinet and three hundred civil
servants," should really "have been gov-
erned by a major."
Well, it is his intention to tell us the story
about how Trinidad nearly came to be gov-
erned, if not by a major, then at least bythree
rebellious lieutenants. It is an important
story in itself, but even more so because the
rebellion occurred (was planned?) just as

CAfBBEAN PEVIEW/49

the Black Power movement on the island-
and in the Caribbean-was in full swing.
Unfortunately, the autobiographical ap-
proach of Edwards, who in 1962 was hired
to train the so-called Regiment (Trinidad's
1,000-man defense force), keeps getting in
the way of his account. Additionally, having
resigned from the force in indignation in
May 1969, the author knows the facts of the
April 1970 rebellion only second hand,
which explains the lengthy quotes from
newspapers and especially the proceedings
of the eventual court martial. Be that as it
may, Edwards obviously has some old axes
to grind and he can write. Consequently,
Trinidadians who have learned to read be-
tween the lines will have fun reading the
acerbic characterizations; those less at-
tuned to the minutia of island politics will
not be so entertained. They are left though
with some important issues to analyze.
The two fundamental questions of that
1970 "mutiny" (as it would eventually be
called) receive only glancing yet tantalizing
references in this treatment. Those ques-
tions were and still are: First, was the re-
bellion spontaneous or a conspiracy?
Edwards says the three officers "were
caught by surprise ... since all their plans
were for May," indicating thereby a conspir-
acy. Secondly, was there "condonation" (de
facto pardon for offenses committed) by the
commander in chief which thereby put the
offenders beyond the pale of a military court
martial? Edwards tells us that he heard from
"several sources" that the commander (Ser-
rette) "had promised that no legal proceed-
ings would be instituted if they surren-
dered." The Appeals Court of Trinidad threw
out the court martial convictions of these
officers on a technicality regarding the rules
of evidence. The jury is still out, however, on
the actual historical facts of the case.
ANTHONY P MAINGOT

Culture Against Chains
Slavery, War, and Revolution: The British
Occupation of Saint Domingue,
1793-1798. David Geggus. 492 pp.
Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1982.
Testing the Chains: Resistance to
Slavery in the British West Indies.
Michael Craton. 389 pp. Cornell University
Press, Ithaca, 1982.

There is as yet no consensus among schol-
ars concerning the resistance of African-
Americans to slavery. This lack of general
agreement doubtless results in part from
the fact that the slave's resistance to his/her
bondage covered a wide range of re-
sponses. It included armed rebellion, sui-
cide, arson, satire, poisoning, illness, theft,
running away, lying, self-mutilation, loafing
on the job, feigning illness in the field, en-
gaging in a complicated program of sabo-

tage, ad infinitum. Consequently, scholars
have analyzed these diverse responses to
slavery according to different criteria; how-
ever, it is certain that slave resistance
throughout the New World was determined
by what Michael Craton calls "a culture of
resistance."
Two important studies, which provide
much new information regarding slave re-
sistance in the West Indies, are David Geg-
gus's critical examination of Britain's
doomed intervention in what is now known
as the Haitian Revolution, and Michael
Craton's magisterial assessment of slave
unrest in the old British West Indies. The
former is a pathbreaking work of Britain's
disastrous involvement in what the historian
of the British Army, Sir John W. Fortescue,
scornfully libeled as a "hateful incubus." By
means of exemplary use of a wealth of
printed and manuscript material, Geggus
paints an extraordinarily detailed portrait of
Britain's military occupation of parts of the
rich French colony of Saint Domingue dur-
ing the middle years of the Haitian Revolu-
tion, from 1793-1798. Set within a horrific
three-sided civil war, characterized by con-
fusion, mass death and atrocities, Geggus's
central theme is the shifting balance of
power among a kaleidoscope of changing
alignments represented by rebellious slaves,
whites, coloreds, France, Britain, Spain and
the United States. This is also a study of
Britain's pitiful and ultimately doomed
efforts to restore slavery in the colony.
Michael Craton's comprehensive and
provocative study of slave resistance covers
a much larger canvas, namely, the English-
speaking West Indies from settlement to
1837. Beginning with a basic assumption
that the slave system was shaped largely by
the slave, Craton argues persuasively that
the incidence of slave unrest was "struc-
turally endemic," a continuum of resistance
firmly established in both Amerindian and
African tradition. This analysis, for example,
is applied to slave resistance during the rev-
olutionary period, 1775-1815. Craton fur-
ther argues that the ideology of resistance to
slavery was not merely an extension of alien
or external ideas. Instead, he concentrates
on the dynamic of African-American re-
sistance to slavery. Craton concludes his
study with an epilogue in which he explores
incidences of unrest among the free peas-
antry in Barbados, Guyana and Jamaica.
This volume is replete with numerous maps
and fascinating contemporary illustrations.
Also included is a chronology of resistance
from 1638 to 1837. The data provided for
each event includes the number of slaves
involved.
As Eugene D. Genovese has argued
(From Rebellion to Revolution: Afro-Amer-
ican Slave Revolts in the Making of the New
World, 1981), the persistent myth of Af-
rican-American docility in slavery is both
ironic and ludicrous for, given the evidence,
"no enslaved people in world history rose in

revolt so often or in such numbers or with so
large a measure of success." This was par-
ticularly true in the West Indies. It was true to
a lesser extent in the US South, but there too
black Americans made important contribu-
tions to the history of revolt against oppres-
sion. The excellent works of Geggus and
Craton (and others) should bury this poi-
sonous myth forever.
ROGER N. BUCKLEY
University of Hartford
Hartford, Connecticut

Lady Law
Women and Politics in Barbados,
1948-1981. Neville Duncan and Kenneth
O'Brien. 68 pp. Institute of Social and
Economic Research, University of the West
Indies, Cave Hill, Barbados, 1983.

Duncan and O'Brien present a clearly writ-
ten and well-documented paper on the role
on women in Barbadian politics. Their
focus is on five areas: local politics, parlia-
ment, boards and public corporations, par-
tisan involvement and electoral politics. The
paper is part of a larger, multifocal empirical
study of women in the Caribbean; its intent
is to begin the process of systematic gather-
ing and analysis of available information on
female political activity in the area. Their
conclusion that "there is, patently, a higher
potentiality for more females to be adopted
as candidates in national elections" cor-
roborates what many know intuitively. This
empirical evidence serves to underscore the
need to "turn around existing patterns of
political involvement." Papers such as this,
which are based on sound empirical data,
are of great interest to those concerned with
the Caribbean in general, and particularly
with the role of women in that society.
BETTY JANE PUNNETT
New York University
New York, New York

Not for the Coffee Table
Aztec Art. Esther Pasztory. 335 pp. Harry
N. Abrams, Inc., Publishers, New York,
1983. $60.00. (394 plates, including 75 in
full color.)

This lavishly illustrated volume first im-
presses one as yet another art book for the
coffee table (a genre of pretty pictures and
vapid prose). However, a very significant
work of scholarship resides within this
book's oversized covers! While the illustra-
tions are of excellent quality, it is the mar-
riage of Pasztory's writing with the plates
that makes the work a valuable contribution
to Aztec ethnography.
Unlike many books that focus on indige-
nous art, this one does not attempt to cover
an entire continent or a plethora of cultures.

50/CATBBcAN r IIEW

Instead, Pasztory focuses on the Aztecs with
monographic intensity. She notes that Aztec
art is sometimes dismissed as "grotesque
and primitive." Such reactions come from
individuals who are disturbed by the Aztecs'
pessimistic world view, their preoccupation
with human sacrifice, and their frequent use
of skulls, serpents, flayed skins and bones
as icons or metaphors. Pasztory demon-
strates that such expressions must be un-
derstood within an extremely rich and
complex cultural context, and that the
Aztecs also created works manifesting great
sensitivity, aesthetic value, and technical
brilliance.
The work is organized in terms of the
major Aztec artistic media (architecture,
monuments, codices, lapidary arts, tur-
quoise mosaic, featherwork, ceramics, and
stone, wood and terracotta sculpture). The
accompanying text provides excellent over-
views of their cosmos, ethos, social and po-
litical organization, economy, ecology, and
the impact of the conquest. However, more
emphasis is given to state-level institutions
and the monumental expressions of impe-
rial art than to everyday life and folk art.
Pasztory is aware of this bias and correctly
notes that it reflects the attitudes of the
Aztecs themselves, as well as the accounts
left by their Spanish conquerers. She at-
tempts to redress this traditional indif-
ference by giving some attention to folk
religion and the ceramic arts of the com-
mon people. Scholarly references, a gloss-
ary of Nahuatl terms, and an index
complement the text. All are excellent.
WILLIAM T VICKERS
Florida International University

Cows and Credit
Development Strategies in Rural
Colombia: The Case of Caqueta, Robin
Ruth Marsh. 241 pp. UCLA Latin
American Center Publications, Los
Angeles, 1983. $22.95.

In this volume Robin Ruth Marsh traces the
history and performance of the two-phased
rural development program in the frontier
lands of Caqueta in southern Colombia, fi-
nanced in its initial stage by USAID and
subsequently by the World Bank. Her thor-
ough examination reveals neither dramatic
success nor total failure, but rather provides
a vivid picture of the mixed outcomes that
frequently characterize rural development
programs. Improvements in living stan-
dards are achieved by some, and conditions
become more precarious for others. One
institution, INCORA, is able to reorient its
mission and values to the needs of the small
farmer, while others continue to serve tradi-
tional clientele. Marsh describes the process
by which declining government support for
INCORA and uncertain official commitment
to agrarian reform combine to obstruct

original program objectives.
At first glance, the economic and social
impact of the program on those who are
able to obtain credit appears to be positive:
through a substantial increase in cattle herd
size, they are able to generate revenues
nearly double those of non-borrowers. But
deeper analysis presented by the author re-
veals that these gains are largely absorbed
by higher production costs, and when the
recipients' greater household expenditures
are taken into account, we find that their
cash deficit is even greater than that of the
non-borrowers, leading the author to the
inescapable conclusion that they must sell
producing assets-their cows-to make
ends meet.
The future is even more uncertain with
the increase of guerrilla activity in Caqueta
and repression of the rural population by
military forces and bands of counterin-
surgents. Ominously, the lives of three IN-
CORA employees are threatened by
guerrillas, leaving one to wonder whether
the success of rural development strategies
by government, however well intended, is
realistic in this environment.
JOHN ICKIS
INCAE
Managua, Nicaragua

Fear of the Bear
The Giant's Rival: The USSR and Latin
America. Cole Blasier. 203 pp. University
of Pittsburgh Press, Pittsburgh, 1983.
$14.95; $7.95 paper.
Cole Blasier, of the University of Pittsburgh,
is a former foreign service officer and an old
hand in the field of Latin American studies.
He examines here the various elements of
postwar Soviet views on, and policies to-
wards, Latin America-both from a histor-
ical and current perspective, with particular
attention to trade, Cuba, and relations with
Latin America's communist and leftist par-
ties. He includes a chapter assessing and
criticizing US policies in Latin America, in
particular US responses to perceived Marx-
ist challenges in the hemisphere. An appen-
dix, based in part on the author's personal
contacts and observations, provides an un-
usual portrait of Soviet Latin Americanists,
their attitudes, work, contributions and
influence.
Blasier's book breaks no new ground. It
merely updates information on, and analy-
sis of, Soviet policy in Latin America pub-
lished by other students of this problem. He
sees the Soviet Union as pursuing a cau-
tious, opportunistic policy in the hemi-
sphere constrained by its geographic
remoteness, US power, relative Soviet eco-
nomic weakness and an unfavorable trade
balance, the limited influence of local com-
munist parties, and the region's widespread
suspicion of Moscow's intentions. The au-
thor tends to play down what some see as a

Soviet-Cuban threat to Latin America. He is
critical of US policy, which he believes to be
driven by ignorance and unjustified fear suf-
fering from a penchant for counter-produc-
tive unilateral military intervention and for
attempting to determine the political lead-
ership of Latin American countries.
LEON GOUIRE
bPtomac, Maryland

Uptight West Indians
Hypertension and Culture Change:
Acculturation and Disease in the West
Indies. William W Dressier. 158 pp.
Redgrave Publishing Company, South
Salem, N.Y, 1982. $13.65.

Hypertension has become a major public
health problem in the English-speaking
Caribbean, ranking among the ten most
common causes of death. Many attempts
are underway to identify correlates of hyper-
tension with the aim of controlling and/or
preventing its occurrence. In this regard,
Dresser's book, a medical anthropological
study of culture change and its impact on
hypertension in St. Lucia, has both the-
oretical and methodological importance,
especially in the area of the social epi-
demiologic investigation of hypertension
and its related diseases.
The book is based on an emergent view
that hypertension is socially derived and at-
tempts to determine, from a structural per-
spective, the stressful effects of accultura-
tion or modernization on the blood pressure
levels, and thus severity of hypertension, on
a sample of St. Lucians in Soufriere. As
failure to adapt to various forms of ac-
culturation or modernization was posited as
stressful, Dressier presents a well-informed
overview of the history of the island, depict-
ing various modernizing and delocalizing
trends. More particularly, he points out that
modernization ushered in rising levels of
European and American life-styles or ex-
pectations and, to the extent that St. Lu-
cians did not possess resources commen-
surate with these expectations, they
experienced stresses which in turn contrib-
uted to the development of hypertension.
However, life-style stresses of high levels of
acculturation were reduced by greater ac-
cess to economic resources.
The book is well worth reading by all
health-minded individuals who are serious
about determining correlates and causal
factors related to arterial pressure, es-
pecially within the Caribbean community.
For a wider audience, it helps to bridge a
void about what factors are likely etiologic
agents in hypertension, and how such fac-
tors can increase our understanding of
chronic elevations in arterial pressure.
IVOR L. LIVINGSTON
Howard University
Washington, D.C.

CAl?BBEAN IEVIEW/51

Recent Books

On the Region and Its Peoples

Compiled by Marian Goslinga

Anthropology and Sociology

Animal Use by the Cozumel Maya. Nancy L.
Hamblin. University of Arizona Press, 1984.
.206 p. $23.00.

El cambio cultural y las diferencias de
fecundidad en Guatemala. Alfredo Mindez
Dominguez. Ministerio de Educaci6n
(Guatemala), 1984. 206 p.

Children of God's Fire: A Documentary
History of Black Slavery in Brazil. Robert
Edgar Conrad. Princeton University Press,
1984. 515 p. $50.00; $16.50 paper.

Cinema Novo X5: Masters of Contemporary
Brazilian Film. Randal Johnson. University of
Texas Press, 1984. 280 p. $8.95.

Claves political del problema habitacional
argentino, 1955-1981. Oscar Yujnovsky.
Grupo Editor Latinoamericano (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 411 p.

A Community Under Siege: A History of
Chicanos East of the Los Angeles River.
Rodolfo F Acufia. Chicano Studies Research
Center, University of California (Los Angeles),
1984. 523 p. $21.95.

The Cuban-American Experience: Culture,
Images and Perspectives. Thomas D. Boswell,
James R. Curtis. Rowman & Allanheld (Totowa,
N.J.), 1984. 240 p. $36.50.

Ecuador: la patria y la cultural. Franklin Barriga
L6pez. Universidad Central del Ecuador, 1984.
289 p.
La educaci6n popular en America Latina.
Rodrigo Parra Sandoval, et al. Kapelusz
(Buenos Aires, Argentina), 1984. 127 p.

Ensayo sobre la poblaci6n en Mexico. A. de
Miguel. Sociol6gicas (Madrid, Spain), 1984.
220 p. 475 ptas.

Faces of Jesus: Latin American Christologies.
Josh Miguez-Bonino, ed.; Robert R. Barr, trans.
Orbis Books, 1984. 192 p. $10.95.

Financiele Adoptie in Haiti: Een Onderzoek
naar de Werkwijze van Foster Parents Plan en
COHAN in Haiti. M. Lagro, M. Sonneveld.
Uitgeverij ICA (Leiden, Netherlands). 1983.
158 p.

El folklore en Honduras. Jes6s Mufioz Tabora.
Ministerio de Cultura y Turismo (Honduras),
1984. 140 p.

Marian Goslinga is the Latin American and
Caribbean Librarian at Florida Interna-
tional University. Photos from Arte Taino.

Gertrude Blom: Bearing Witness. Alex Harris,
Margaret Sartor, eds. University of North
Carolina Press, 1984. 150 p. $32.00.
Hacienda y cambio social en Yucatan. Luis
Millet Cimara, Jos6 Luis Sierra V Maldonado
Editores (Merida, Yucatan), 1984. 166 p.

La hegemonia del pueblo y lucha
centroamericana. Pablo Gonzalez Casanova.
editorial Universitaria Centroamericana,
EDUCA (San Jose, Costa Rica), 1984. 128 p.

Huastec Mayan Ethnobotany. Janis B. Alcorn.
University of Texas Press, 1984. 992 p. $40.00.

In Search of Refuge. Yvonne Dilling, Ingrid
Rogers. Herald Press (Scottdale, Penn.), 1984.
288 p. $9.95.

Indians of the Americas: Self-Determination
and Human Rights. Roxanne Dunbar Ortiz.
Zed Press (London, Eng.), 1984. 360 p. $29.95;
$12.50 paper.

Indigenas y fronteras: los araucanos de las
pampas en el siglo 19. Ratl Mandrini, ed.
Centro Editor de America Latina (Buenos
Aires, Argentina), 1984.

Inverse Images: The Meaning of Culture,
Ethnicity, and Family in Postcolonial
Guatemala. John Hawkins. University of New
Mexico Press, 1984. 568 p. $35.00;
$17.50 paper.

Kinship Ideology and Practice in Latin
America. Raymond Thomas Smith, ed.
University of North Carolina Press, 1984.
400 p. $29.95.

The Lost Land: The Chicano Image of the
Southwest. John R. Chavez. University of New
Mexico Press, 1984.208 p. $19.95; $9.95
paper.

Marriage Practices in Lowland South America.
Kenneth Kensinger, ed. University of Illinois
Press, 1984. 297 p. $19.95.

Maya Culture and Costume: A Catalogue of
the Taylor Museum's E. B. Ricketson
Collection of Guatemalan Textiles. Christine
Conte. Taylor Museum (Colorado Springs,
Colo.), 1984.

Media Flows in Latin America. Everett M.
Rogers, Jorge Reina Schement. Sage, 1984.

Memoirs of Bernardo Vega: A Contribution to
the History of the Puerto Rican Community in
New York. C6sar Andreu Iglesias, ed.; Juan
Flores, trans. Monthly Review Press, 1984.
288 p. $25.00; $10.00 paper.

Mitos y tradiciones maya-quiches. J. Enrique
Ard6n E Tip. Nacional (Guatemala), 1984.
180 p.

Modelos educativos en la historic de America
Latina. Gregorio Weinberg. Kapelusz (Buenos
Aires, Argentina), 1984. 260 p.

Ritual Human Sacrifice in Mesoamerica: A
Conference at Dumbarton Oaks, October
13th and 14th, 1979. Elizabeth H. Boone, ed.
Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and
Collection (Washington, D.C.), 1984. 247 p.
$12.00.

Las sectas en America Latina. Osvaldo
Santagada, et al. Claretiana (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 286 p.

Seres sobrenaturales de la cultural popular
argentina. Adolfo Colombres. Del Sol (Buenos
Aires, Argentina), 1984. 203 p.

El sistema educativo en America Latina.
Ricardo Nassif, German W. Rama, Juan Carlos
Tedesco. Kapelusz (Buenos Aires, Argentina),
1984. 139 p.

Teoria y critical del pensamiento
latinoamericano. Arturo Andr6s Roig. Fondo
de Cultura Econ6mica (Mexico), 1984. 313 p.

Winti: Afro-Surinaamse Religie en Magie bij
Surinamers in Suriname en Nederland.
H. J. M. Stephen. Uigevery De Driehoek
(Amsterdam, Netherlands), 1983. 132 p.

Biography

Eva Per6n. Libertad Demitr6pulos. Centro
Editor de Am6rica Latina (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 156 p.

Hip6lito Yrigoyen: su vida political y los
documents de su defense desde Martin
Garcia. Antonio Felissatti. Editorial Pleamar
(Buenos Aires, Argentina), 1984.229 p.

52/CAIBBEAN rEvIEW

Juan Manuel de Rosas, 1829-1852. John
Lynch; Benigno H. Andrada, trans. Emec6
Editores (Buenos Aires, Argentina), 1984.
391 p.

Leopoldo Zea: ideologia hist6rica y filosofia de
Am6rica Latina. Tzvi Medin. Universidad
Nacional Aut6noma de Mexico, 1983. 157 p.

Lydia Cabrera: An Intimate Portrait. Ana Maria
Simo. INTAR Latin American Gallery, 1984.
$5.00.

Manuel Belgrano: precursor, hiroe y martir de
la argentinidad. Francisco Mario Fasano.
Emporio del Libro Americano (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 375 p.

Mi hijo El Che. Ernesto Guevara Lynch.
Sudamericana (Buenos Aires, Argentina),
1984. 344 p.

El pensamiento vivo de Alberdi. Jorge M.
Mayer. Editorial Losada (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 162 p.

Prison Diary: Argentina. Simon Winchester.
Chatto & Windus (London, Eng.), 1984. 224 p.
$7.95.

Rivadavia y su tiempo. Nidia Areces, Edgardo
Ossano, eds. Centro Editor de Am6rica Latina
(Buenos Aires, Argentina), 1984. 96 p.

Stroessner, defensor de las instituciones
democrAticas. Ubaldo Centuri6n Morinigo.
Epopeya del Chaco (Asunci6n, Paraguay),
1983. 140 p.

Description and Travel

Climbing and Hiking in Ecuador. Rob
Rachowiecki. Bradt Enterprises (Cambridge,
Mass.), 1984. 160 p. $10.95.

Het Legergroene Suriname. E. Verhey,
G. Westerloo. Weekbladpers BV (Amsterdam,
Netherlands) 1983. 189 p.

Latin America and the Caribbean 1984. Enver
Carim, ed. Ballantine Books, 1984. 338 p.
$24.95.

Montserrat: Emerald Isle of the Caribbean.
Howard A. Fergus. Macmillan Caribbean, 1983.
88 p. 3.25.

O que e nordeste brasileiro. Carlos Garcia.
Brasiliense (SLo Paulo, Brazil), 1984. 92 p.

The Rough Guide to Mexico. John Fisher.
Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1984. 192 p. $7.95.

The Rough Guide to Peru. Dilwyn Jenkins,
Clare Jenkins. Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1984.
192 p. $7.95.

Economics

Arbeid op Curacao: Een Historische
Verkenning van de Curagaose Arbeidsmarkt.
Jaap van Soest. Universiteit van de
Nederlandse Antillen (Curacao), 1984.

Asi tomamos las tierras: henequen y
haciendas en Yucatan durante el porfiriato.
Eric Villanueva Mukul. Maldonado Editores
(Merida, Yucat6n), 1984. 136 p.

Change in the Amazon Basin. John H.
Hemming, ed. Manchester University Press
(Dower, N.Y.), 1984. 2 vols. [Proceedings from
44th International Congress of Americanists,
1982.]

Chile: Experiment in Democracy. Sergio Bitar.
Institute for the Study of Human Issues, 1984.
350 p. $33.00.

LColectivizaci6n ejidal o proletarizaci6n? Un
studio de caso en Baja California sur. Maria
Elena Aramoni, Montserrat Lines. Institute
Nacional de Antropologia e Historia (Mexico),
1984. 156 p.

Costa Rica colonial: la tierra y el hombre.
Elizabeth Fonseca. Editorial Universitaria
Centroamericana, EDUCA (San Jose, Costa
Rica), 1984. 388 p.

De Pellegrini a Martinez de Hoz: el modelo
liberal. Mario Rapoport. Centro Editor de
America Latina (Buenos Aires, Argentina),
1984. 199 p. [About Argentina].

Desarrollo-dependencia de Puerto Rico. Rafael
Corrada Guerrero. Institute de Investigaciones
Sociales, Universidad de Puerto Rico, 1984.
205 p.

Diez afos de sindicalismo argentino: de Per6n
al processo". Santiago Sen6n GonzAlez,
Ricardo Callo. Corregidor (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 225 p.

Efecto de la political monetarista. Alfredo
Errandones. El Cid Editor (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 160 p.

Estado empresario y lucha political en Costa
Rica. Ana Sojo, Editorial Universitaria
Centroamericana, EDUCA (San Jose, Costa
Rica), 1984. 290 p.

Intergovernmental Finance in Colombia: Final
Report of the Mission on Intergovernmental
Finance. Richard Miller Bird, director.
International Tax Program, Harvard Law
School, 1984. $20.00.

Jamaica: Open for Business. The Resource
Center. The Center (Albuquerque, N.M.), 1984.
$3.50.

Mexico's Dilemma: The Political Origins of
Economic Crisis. Robert Newell G., Luis Rubio
F. Westview Press, 1984.340 p. $35.00.

Mexico's Petroleum Sector: Performance and
Prospect. George Towne Baker. PennWell
Books (Tulsa, Okla.), 1984. 290 p. $35.00.

The Monetary and Financial System of the
Bahamas: Growth, Structure, and Operation.
Ramesh F. Ramsaran. Institute for Social and
Economic Research, University of the West
Indies (Mona, Jamaica), 1984. 409 p. $19.75.

Los origenes del movimiento obrero,
1857-1899. Ricardo Falc6n. Centro Editor de
Am6rica Latina (Buenos Aires, Argentina),
1984. 129 p.

Onderzoek en Ontwikkeling in Peru. L. van
Vroonhoven, H. de Wit, eds. Rijksuniversiteit
(Leiden, Netherlands), 1984.

An Overview of Public Enterprise in the
Commonwealth Caribbean. Institute of
Development Studies, University of Guyana,
Institute of Social and Economic Research,
University of the West Indies. University of the
West Indies (Mona, Jamaica), 1983. 216 p.

Petroleum and Economic Development: The
Cases of Mexico and Norway. Ragaei El
Mallakh, 0ystein Noreng, Barry W Poulson.
Lexington Books, 1984. 197 p. $26.95.

Politics and Economics of External Debt
Crisis: The Latin American Experience.
Miguel S. Wionczek, Luciano Tomassini, eds.
Westview Press, 1984. 300 p. $25.00.

Power in the Caribbean Basin: A Comparative
Study of Political Economy. Carl Stone.
Institute for the Study of Human Issues, 1984.
220 p. $17.50.

Que crise e esta? Marcel Bursztyn, Pedro
Leitio, Arnaldo Chain, eds. Brasiliense (Sio
Paulo, Brazil), 1984.

La realidad econ6mica peruana. Luis Guti6rrez
Aparicio, ed. Studium (Lima, Peru), 1984.
350 p.

Selectieve Innovatie door Kleine Boeren in
Mexico. J. Hardeman. Vrije Universiteit
(Amsterdam, Netherlands), 1984.

Trabajadores y sociedad en el siglo XX. Sergio
de la Pefia. Siglo Veintiuno Editores (Mexico),
1984. 242 p.

History and Archaeology

,America ... quin la descubri6? Gerardo
Mauger de la Branniere. Albatros (Buenos
Aires, Argentina), 1984. 106 p.

The Archaeology of Lower Central America.
Frederick W Lange, Doris Z. Stone, eds.
University of New Mexico Press, 1984. 476 p.
$50.00.

Art of the Incas and its Origins. Henry Stierlin;
Betty Ross, Peter Ross, trans. Rizzoli (New York,
N.Y.), 1984. 240 p. $50.00.

CA1?BBEAN PeIVEW/53

The Caribbean in the Twentieth Century. John
Griffiths. David & Charles (North Pomfret, Vt.),
1984. 72 p. $14.95.

The Cave Paintings of Baja California. Harry W.
Crosby. Rev. ed. Copley Books (La Jolla, Calif.),
1984. 200 p. $27.50.

Cenote of Sacrifice: Maya Treasures from the
Sacred Well at Chichen Itza. Clemency Chase
Coggins, Orrin C. Shane, eds. University of
Texas Press, 1984. 176 p. $35.00; $24.50
paper.

Chacaltzingo: Excavations on the Olmec
Frontier. David C. Grove. Thames & Hudson
(London, Eng.), 1984. 184 p. 18.00.

Colecci6n de documents coloniales de
Tepeaca. Hildeberto Martinez. Institute
Nacional de Antropologia e Historia (Mexico),
1984. 661 p.

Conflictos en la cuenca del Plata en el siglo
XIX. Le6n Pomer. Riesa (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 310 p.

De Bolivar a la revoluc6n boliviana. Roberto
Jordan Pando. Editorial Legasa (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 162 p.

Heroic Mexico: The Narrative History of a
Twentieth Century Revolution. William W
Johnson. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1984.
$8.95. Reprint of 1968 ed.

Merida: su transformaci6n de capital a
naclente metr6poll en 1935. Asael T Hansen,
Juan R. Bastarrachea M. Institute Nacional de
Antropologia e Historia (Mexico), 1984. 331 p.

Other Mexicos: Essays on Regional Mexican
History, 1876-1911. Thomas Benjamin,
William McNellie, eds. University of New Mexico
Press, 1984. 304 p. $24.95; $12.95 paper.

Pueblos del norte de la Patagonia,
1779-1957. C6sar A. Vapnarsky. Editorial de
la Patagonia (Fuerte General Roca, Argentina),
1984. 350 p.

Redcoats in the Caribbean. James Ayfoun.
Blackburn Recreation Services Dept. (East
Lancashire, Eng.), 1984. 1.80.

Report on the Execrable Conspiracy Carried
out by the Amina Negroes on the Danish
Island of St. Jan in America, 1733. Pierre J.
Pannet; Aimery P Caron, Arnold R. Highfield,
trans. Antilles Publications (St. Croix, VI.),
1984. $5.00.

Rep6blica Dominicana: monumentos
hist6ricos y arqueol6gicos. Eugenio Parez
Montas. Institute Panamericano de Geografia e
Historia, 1984. 553 p.

La semana tragica. Edgardo J. Bilsky. Centro
Editor de America Latina (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 161 p.

Texas and the Mexican Revolution: A Study in
State and National Border Policy, 1910-1920.
Don M. Coerver, Linda Hall. Trinity University
Press (San Antonio, Texas), 1984. 220 p.
$20.00; $10.00 paper.

Las tribus nonualcas y su caudillo Anastasio
Aguino. Julio Alberto Dominguez Sosa.
Editorial Universitaria Centroamericana,
EDUCA (San Jose, Costa Rica), 1984. 278 p.
[About Central American independence.]

Izapa Relief Carving: Form, Content, Rules for
Design, and Role in Meso-American Art
History and Archaeology. Virginia G. Smith.
Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and
Collection (Washington, D.C.), 1984. 103 p.
$12.00.

Los jesuitas en Nicaragua en el siglo XIX.
Franco Ceretti. Libro Libre (San Jose, Costa
Rica), 1984. 661 p.

A Tropical Plains Frontier: The Uanos of
Colombia, 1531-1831. Jane M. Rausch.
University of New Mexico Press, 1984. 384 p.
$29.95.

Venezuela: A Century of Change. Judith Ewell.
Stanford University Press, 1984. 258 p. $22.50.

The Wind that Swept Mexico: The History of
the Mexican Revolution of 1910-1942. Anita
Brenner. University of Texas Press, 1984. 320 p.
$12.95. [Originally published in 1943.]

Language and Literature

Aime Cesaire: The Collected Poetry. Clayton
Eshleman, Annette Smith, eds. and trans.
University of California Press, 1983. 408 p.
$25.00.

O canibalismo amoroso: o desejo e a
interdi;io em nossa cultural atrav6s da poesia.
Affonso Romano de Sant'Anna. Brasiliense
(Sao Paulo, Brazil), 1984. 313 p.

Central American Writers of West Indian
Origin: A New Hispanic Literature. lan Smart.
Three Continents Press (Washington, D.C.),
1984. 151 p. $20.00; $12.00 paper.

Copilli: Aztec Prince. Miguel AlemAn Velasco.
Doubleday, 1984. 129 p. $11.95. A novel.

Cuentan di Nanzi: Een Onderzoek naar de
Oorsprong, Betekenis en Functie van de
Papiamentse Spinverhalen. W. J. H. Baart.
Rodopi (Amsterdam, Netherlands), 1983.
244 p.

Cuentos Chicanos: A Short Story Anthology.
Rev. ed. Rudolfo A. Anaya, Antonio Marquez,
eds. University of New Mexico Press, 1984. 224
p. $19.95; $9.95 paper.

Don Bueno. Zulfikar Ghose. Holt, Rinehart and
Winston, 1984. $16.95. A novel.

Early Lexicography: A Study of C. L.
Schumann's Manuscript Dictionary of Sranan.
A. A. Kramp. RUL (Leiden, Netherlands), 1983.
378 p.

Evaristo Carriego. Jose Luis Borges; Norman
Thomas di Giovanni, Susan Ashe, trans.
Dutton, 1984. 173 p. $13.95.

The Gods, the Little Guys and the Police.
Humberto Constantini; Toby Talbot, trans.
Harper & Row, 1984.230 p. $14.95. [A novel
set in Argentina.]

A House in the Country. Jos6 Donoso; David
Pritchard, Suzanne Jill Levine, trans. Knopf,
1984. 352 p. $16.95.

Loving in the War Years: Lo que nunca pas6
por sus labios. Cherrie Moraga. South End
Press, 1984. 150 p. $7.00. Short stories, essays
and poems.

Macunaima. Mario de Andrade; E. A.
Goodland, trans. Random House, 1984.
$14.95. [A novel.]

La noche oscura del nifio Avills. Edgardo
Rodriguez JuliB. Ediciones Huracan (San Juan,
Puerto Rico), 1984. $11.95. [A novel.]

Obaldia Plays: Two Women for One Ghost,
The Baby Sitter, The Jelly Fish's Banquet.
Rene de Obaldia. Riverrun Press (New York,
N.Y), 1984. 160 p. $7.95.

Quechua Syntax. Gabriella Hermon. Foris
Publications (Dordrecht, Netherlands), 1984.

Seven Nights. Jorge Luis Borges; Eliot
Weinberger, trans. New Directions (New York,
N.Y), 1984. 128 p. $5.95.

Two Crimes. Jorge Ibargiiengoitia; Asa Zatz,
trans. D. R. Godine (Boston, Mass.), 1984.
$13.95. [A novel.]

Voces y ecos en la poesia de Jose Angel
Valente. Santiago Daydi-Tolson. Society of
Spanish and Spanish-American Studies,
University of Nebraska-Lincoln, 1984. 200 p.
$25.00.

Politics and Government

Airwar South Atlantic. Jeffrey Ethell, Alfred
Price. Macmillan, 1984. 256 p. $17.95.

La artilleria argentina en Malvinas. Horacio
Rodriguez Mottino. Editorial Clio (Buenos
Aires, Argentina), 1984. 255 p.

Central America: Crisis and Adaptation. Steve
C. Ropp, James A. Morris, eds. University of
New Mexico Press, 1984. 311 p. $22.50;
$10.95 paper.

Centroamerica: desafios y perspectives.
Jorge Mario Garcia Laguardia, et al.
Universidad Nacional Aut6noma de Mexico,
1984. 192 p.

54/CA1?BBCAN EVIEW

Crisis and Opportunity: U.S. Policy in Central
America and the Caribbean. Mark Falcoff,
Robert Royal, eds. Ethics and Public Policy
Center (Washington, D.C.), 1984. 491 p.
$19.00; $12.00 paper.

La crisis argentina. Roberto Aizcorbe.
Occitania (Buenos Aires, Argentina), 1984.
333 p.

Cuando la magia tom6 el poder. Centro
Estudios Latinoamericanos. El Cid Editor
(Buenos Aires, Argentina), 1984. 227 p. [About
Maria Estela Per6n.]

Cuba, Castro, and the Caribbean: The Cuban
Revolution and the Crisis in Western
Conscience. Carlos Alberto Montaner; Nelson
Duran, trans. Transaction Books, 1984. 114 p.
$19.95.

De Chapultepec al Beagle: political exterior
argentina, 1945-1980. Juan Antonio Lanus.
Emece Editores (Buenos Aires, Argentina),
1984. 344 p.

Democracia e ditadura no Chile. Emir Sader
S. Brasiliense (Sao Paulo, Brazil), 1984.

Los derechos humans en Honduras. Lucila
Funes de Torres. Centro de Documentaci6n de
Honduras, 1984. 194 p.

The Dynamics of Latin American Foreign
Policies: Challenges for the 1980's. Jennie K.
Lincoln, Elizabeth G. Ferris, eds. Westview
Press, 1984. $27.50; $11.95 paper.

Entre la autonomia y la subordinaci6n: political
exterior de los paisos latinoamericanos.
Heraldo Mufioz, Joseph Tulchin eds. Grupo
Editor Latinoamericano (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 2 vols.

Escritos indignados: policia, pris6es e political
no estado autoritario. Paulo S6rgio de M. S.
Pinheiro. Brasiliense (Sao Paulo, Brazil), 1984.
268 p.

El estado terrorist argentino. Eduardo Luis
Duhalde. Argos Vergara (Barcelona, Spain),
1983. 264 p.

Explode um novo Brasil: diario da campanha
das diretas. Ricardo Kotscho. Edit6ra
Brasiliense (Sao Paulo, Brazil), 1984. 152 p.

Funci6n political del ejercito salvadoreio en el
present siglo. Mariano Castro Moran. UCA
Editores (San Salvador), 1984. 460 p.

Grenada: Whose Freedom? Latin American
Bureau. (London) 1984. 2.95.

La ideologia socialdem6crata en Costa Rica.
Susan Jonas Bodenheimer. Editorial
Universitaria Centroamericana, EDUCA (San
Jose, Costa Rica), 1984. 116 p.

The Ideology of the Sandinistas and the
Nicaraguan Revolution. David Nolan. Institute
of Interamerican Studies, University of Miami,
1984. 204 p. $14.95.

Introducci6n a la administraci6n public de
Mexico. Ignacio Pichardo Pagaza. Institute
Nacional de Administraci6n P6blica (Mexico),
1984. 2 vols.

Latin American Nations in World Politics.
Heraldo Mufioz, Joseph S. Tulchin, eds.
Westview Press, 1984. 280 p. $30.00; $12.95
paper.

The Making of a Government: Political
Leaders in Modern Mexico. Roderic A. Camp.
University of Arizona Press, 1984.

De Nederlandse Antillen en de Verenigde
Staten van Amerika. J. Hartog. De Walburg
Pers (Zutphen, Netherlands), 1983.

Las negociaciones de paz: mi punto de vista.
Carlos L6pez Contreras. Tip. Lithopress
(Tegucigalpa, Honduras), 1984. 224 p. [About
relations between Honduras and El Salvador.]

Politics, Public Administration and Rural
Development in the Caribbean. Hans F. Tilly,
ed. Weltforum Verlag (Miinchen, Germany),
1984. 296 p. DM49.00.

El process de la toma de decisions: textos y
casos. Sidney Jose Panting. Editorial
Universitaria (Tegucigalpa, Honduras), 1984.
443 p.

A rebelilo camponesa na Bolivia. Marcelo
Grondin. Brasiliense (Sao Paulo, Brazil), 1984.

Relaciones entire los Estados Unidos y Puerto
Rico: documents basicos. Roland I. Perusse,
ed. Inter-American Institute (Hato Rey, Puerto
Rico), 1984. 155 p. 12.00.

Reportaje en El Salvador. Gilberto Lopes.
Editorial Universitaria Centroamericana,
EDUCA (San Jose, Costa Rica), 1984. 236 p.

La revoluci6n de la reform: de 1833 a 1848,
G6mez Farias-Santa Anna. Salvador
Abascal. Tradici6n (Mexico), 1983. 221 p.

La revoluci6n sandinista. Jaime Marin. Anteo
(Buenos Aires, Argentina), 1984. 127 p.

Revolution and Counter-Revolution in Central
America and the Caribbean. Donald E. Schulz,
Douglas H. Graham. Westview Press, 1984. 555
p. $35.00; $14.95 paper.

Rift and Revolution: The Central American
Imbroglio. Howard J. Wiarda, ed. American
Enterprise Institute, 1984. 392 p. $19.95;
$10.95 paper.

Suriname: de schele Onafhankelijkheid. Glenn
Willemsen, ed. Nauta BV Synopsis (Zutphen,
Netherlands), 1983. 257 p.

The United States and Mexico: Patterns of
Influence. George Grayson. Praeger, 1984. 214
p. $27.95; $13.95 paper.

Yucatan y los origenes del nuevo estado
mexicano: gobierno de Salvador Alvarado,
1915-1918. Francisco Jose Paoli. Ediciones
Era (Mexico), 1984. 222 p.

Reference

Adult Education in Antigua and Barbuda: A
Directory of Opportunities and Resources.
David Wolfe, ed. Dept. of Extra-Mural Studies,
University of the West Indies, (Antigua), 1983.

Bibliografia juridica de America Latina,
1810-1965: Brazil, Colombia, Costa Rica,
Cuba. Alberto Villal6n-Galdames. G.K. Hall,
1984. 840 p. $96.00.

Bibliographic Guide to Latin American
Studies, 1983. G.K. Hall, 1984. 3 vols.
$350.00. [Materials cataloged during the past
year by the University of Texas Library and the
Library of Congress.]

Catalogo general DIRSA 1983-1984 de
publicaciones peri6dicas mexicanas.
Distribuidora Internacional de Revistas. DIRSA
(Mexico City, Mexico), 1984. $27.50.

Derek Walcott: An Annotated Bibliography of
His Works. Irma E. Goldstraw. Garland, 1984.
238 p. $25.00.

Directorio de entidades financieras,
1983-1984. Asociaci6n Bancaria de
Colombia. La Asociaci6n, 1984. 190 p.

Gran encyclopedia de Espafia y America. Jose
Maria Javierre, ed. Espasa-Calpe (Madrid,
Spain), 1984. 10 vols.

Guide to Latin American Pamphlets from Yale
University Library: Selections from
1600-1900. Lee Williams, ed. Clearwater Pub.
Co. (New York, N.Y.), 1984. 6 vols. $495.00.

Hispanic First Names: A Comprehensive
Dictionary of 250 Years of Mexican-American
Usage. Richard Donovon Woods. Greenwood
Press, 1984. 224 p. $35.00.

Index to Spanish American Collective
Biography: Volume 3, the Central American
and Caribbean Countries. Sara de Mundo Lo.
G.K. Hall, 1984. 448 p. $75.00.

International Handbook of Education
Systems: Asia, Australasia and Latin
America. Robert Cowen, Martin McLean, eds.
Wiley, 1984. 850 p. $50.00.

E Libro de Cal6: Pachuco Slang Dictionary.
Harry Polkinhorn, Alfredo Velsaco, Mal
Lambert. Atticus Press (San Diego, Calif.),
1983. 163 p. $8.95.

Panama en cifras, afios 1978-82. Direcci6n
de Estadistica y Censo (Panama). Contraloria
de la Rep6blica, 1984. 259 p.

CAI?BBEAN PTVIEW/55

Florida International University

Southeast Florida's Four-Year State University

Florida International University (FIU)-located in one of the
nation's fastest growing metropolitan areas and centers for
international trade, finance and cultural exchange-empha-
sizes broad interdisciplinary education for strengthening
understanding of world issues and preparing students for
membership in our modern interrelated world.
The International Affairs Center promotes international
education, training, research and cooperative exchange by
encouraging a wide variety of faculty and student activities
and helping to develop the university's international
programs. Contact: International Affairs Center, (305)
554-2846.
The Latin American and Caribbean Center, one of 12 US
Department of Education National Resource Centers, coordi-
nates teaching and research on the region, administers an
academic certificate program, and supports research. Contact:
Latin American and Caribbean Center, (305) 554-2894.
The International Banking Center cooperates with banks
and businesses in Miami to support research-and sponsor
seminars on international banking topics. Contact: Interna-
tional Banking Center, (305) 554-2771.
15,000 students come from 74 nations and 41 states. They
may select from undergraduate and graduate studies in the
humanities, social sciences, mathematical and physical
sciences, and a wide range of professional programs. Students
especially interested in international degrees and certificates

may wish to major in international relations, modern lan-
guages, sociology and anthropology, political science, history
or economics; they may also earn a certificate in Latin
American and Caribbean studies or international studies.
There are also special international programs at the
graduate level. The Graduate Program in International Studies
is a multidisciplinary curriculum leading to the Master of Arts
degree. Contact: Director, Graduate Program in International
Studies, (305) 554-2248.
A program in international economic development is offered
as part of the Master of Arts in Economics. Contact: Chair-
person, Department of Economics, (305) 554-2316.
A Master of International Business provides basic manage-
ment tools and familiarity with the international environment.
Contact: Director, Master of International Business, (305)
940-5870.
The Certificate in International Bank Management provides
training in international banking policy, practice and tech-
niques. Contact: Business Counseling Office, (305) 554-2781.
All students may use the facilities of the English Language
Skills Center, which conducts a writing laboratory for
individualized instruction in all types of writing, provides
diagnostic testing of oral and written English language
proficiency, and operates the Intensive English Program. This
consists of a four-month course, offered three times a year,
providing instruction,in reading, conversation, grammar,
composition, TOEFL preparation and business English, using
the most advanced teaching methods and modern laboratory
equipment. Contact: Director, Intensive English Program (305)
554-2493.
Florida International University's faculty members are
renowned for their commitment to teaching, research and
service from an international perspective. Individual and
group research projects run the gamut of possible topics and
geographic regions. Faculty exchanges take FIU researchers
abroad and bring leading international scholars to the campus.
The university is also the base for several international
organizations. The Inter-American University Council for
Economic and Social Development (CUIDES) is an indepen-
dent, nonprofit association of representatives from post-
secondary academic institutions. Its primary concern is
assisting nations of the Americas with economic and social
development. Toward this end, FIU and CUIDES initiated a
scholarship program for 40 students from the Caribbean and
Central America to attend United States universities and then
use their knowledge in their home countries. The Institute of
Economic and Social Research of the Caribbean Basin
(IESCARIBE) is a group of Caribbean basin economists and
research institutes which develop cooperative projects of
mutual interest. Supported by FIU's Department of Economics
and Latin American and Caribbean Center, the group conducts
seminars and publishes resulting materials.

Florida International University
Tamiami Campus
Miami, Florida 33199

Try to find a better 7days

SUN.
Welcome aboard the M/S
Skyward. Relax, meet
new people. The chefs
are laying out a huge
spread, the casino opens
at 7 p.m., the Paradise
Lounge band is tuning up,
champagne's popping.
Prepare yourself for a
romantic night at sea.

THU.
A relaxed, sun-soaked
day at sea, then hello, Key
West! Dock just in time
for a glorious sunset, then
go out on the town (or
take in a current movie
on board) before another
lavish Midnight Buffet.

Breakfast on deck at the
pool, then a swim, a jog,
a gym workout, a sauna.
Go ahead and overdo (or
underdo). But remem-
ber, the Captain's Cocktail
Party, just before the flashy
Caribe Celebration Revue
tonight.

Fantastic snorkeling,
shopping, sightseeing,
deep-sea fishing, salty lit-
tle bars, nifty restaurants,
and the Hemingwayesque
setting- Skyward passen-
gers named historic Key
West their favorite port
in 1983. (Cabaret Show
tonight!)

Cancun, a spectacular
gem of a resort. Shopping,
cafe hopping, a fine beach,
clear waters, and the
nearby ruins of Chichen
Itza, Tulum, and Coba. Be
back in time to shove off
for the Mexican Fiesta
waiting when you anchor
in Cozumel tonight.

SAT.
Beach Party! On NCL's
own private Out Island.
All-day barbeque and ba
Calypso, limbo, snorkel-
ing, volleyball, or just lie
there soaking up more sun.
Nobody else's passengers
have this island. Captain's
dinner party tonight,
Miami tomorrow.

WED.
AtCozumel, the snorkeling
is first class. So's the 16th-
century get-away-from-it-
all ambience. Don't get too
faraway, though. Tonight's
Roaring Twenties Revue is
raring to roar, followed by
the Country and Westem
Barbeque on deck under
the stars.

NCUs Mexibbean cruise
is a wonderful vacation
from $975* Could you
expect anything less
when you ask your travel
agent for America's most
cruised-on cruise line?
*Per person, double occupancy.
Ships' Registry: Norway
ft.-

NORWEGIAN
CARIBBEAN UNESO
America's Favorite Cruise Line"

I

	Front Cover
	Table of Contents
	Frontispiece
	Main
	Back Matter
	Back Cover

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0	sobekcm_page_globals.constructor.on_page_load
0	html_echo_mainwriter.add_style_references	Adding style references to HTML
0	html_echo_mainwriter.add_text_to_page	Reading the text from the file and echoing back to the output stream
78	html_echo_mainwriter.add_text_to_page	Finished reading and writing the file