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 Table of Contents
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Caribbean Review
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00095576/00051
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Title: Caribbean Review
Physical Description: Serial
Language: English
Creator: Latin American and Caribbean Center, Florida International University
Publisher: Latin American and Caribbean Center, Florida International University
Place of Publication: Miami, FL
Publication Date: 1985
Copyright Date: 1980
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Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Table of Contents
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    Front Matter
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    Back Matter
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    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
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Full Text


IEW Vol. XIV, No.1
Three Dollars

Remembrances of a Jamaica Past; The Future of the Rastafarian Movement; Rasta Crime in
New York City; Swine Fever Ironies in Haiti; Nicaragua's Uncertain Political Future; Passion and
Compassion in Central America; Visual Art in St. Vincent; Plantation Society in Martinique.


L-99L 0

'A -,

We've got a love affair
going with a fleet of Tall
Ships, and we're looking
for an intimate group of
congenial guys and gals
to share our decks. We're
not the Love Boat, but
we'll take on anybody
when it comes to sailing

and fun in the exotic Ca-
ribbean. There's running'
with the wind to great ports
o' call for those with itchy
feet and a love of adven-
ture. Cruises to the loveliest
places in paradise start
from $425. We'd love to
send you our brochure.

PO. Box 120, Dept. 3427
Miami Beach, FL 33119-0120
TOLL FREE (800) 327-2600
in FL (800) 432-3364

a fair.

.-~~ Ir -_

, Windjamma
RO. Box 120, Dept. 3427
Miami Beach, FL 33119-0120
TOLL FREE (800) 327-2600
in FL (800) 432-3364

I want to share the love affair. Tell me how.



La Jete, by Haitian artist Andr6 Normil
(oil on canvas, 36 x 24 inches). The
painting is in the collection of Mr. and
Mrs. Justo Carrillo.

In this issue

Crossing Swords
The Nonexistent Caribbean
By Andros Serbin

Remembrances of a
Jamaica Past
And Reflections on Its Future
By Wendell Bell

Inside Rasta
The Future of a Religious Movement
By Leahcim T Semaj

Rasta Crime
A Confidential Report
Bythe N. YC. RD.

Swine Fever Ironies
The Slaughter of the Haitian Black Pig
By Bernard Diederich

Nicaragua's Uncertain
Political Future
A View of the Elections
By James M. Malloy

Pilgrimages to Managua
By Forrest D. Colburn

Passion and Compassion
The Conflict in Central America
By Irving Louis Horowitz

Central American Sancocho
Recent Scholarship on an Area in Crisis
Reviewed by Marvin Alisky

Collages, Carvings and
The Visual Arts of St. Vincent
By Andrea E. Leland

Plantation Society
Martinique's Sugar Cane Alley
A Film Review by Deborah Kanter

First Impressions

Recent Books

The New

Cuban Presence

in the


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 Millett,
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 Knlppers 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,
Westvlew Press, giving course title, enrollment, and present
text. Please Include $3.50 per book for processing and
Write for our complete catalog.

AWestview Press
5500 Central Avenue Boulder, Colorado 80301




Barry B. Levine
Associate Editors
Anthony R Maingot
Mark B. Rosenberg
Managing Editor
June S. Belkin
Assistant Editor
Judith C. Faerron
Book Review Editor
Forrest D. Colburn
Marian Goslinga
Linda M. Marston
Contributing Editors
Henry S. Gill
Eneid Routti G6mez
Aaron L. Segal
Andr6s Serbin
Olga J. Wagenheim

Vol. XIV, No. 1

Art Director
Danine L. Carey
Design Consultant
Juan C. Urquiola
Contributing Artists
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Velinka Patkovic
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Three Dollars

Board of Editors
Reinaldo Arenas
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Errol Barrow
German Carrera Damas
Yves Daudet
Edouard Glissant
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Carmelo Mesa-Lago
Carlos Alberto Montaner
Daniel Oduber
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Selwyn Ryan
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Gregory B. Wolfe

Caribbean Review, a quarterly journal dedicated to the Caribbean, Latin America, and
their emigrant groups, is published by Caribbean Review, Inc., a corporation not for profit
organized under the laws of the State of Florida (Barry B. Levine, President; Andrew R.
Banks, Vice President; Kenneth M. Bloom, Secretary). Caribbean Review is published at
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Editorial policy: Caribbean Review does not accept responsibility for any of the views
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Mailing address: Caribbean Review, Florida International University, Tamiami Trail, Miami,
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Copyright: Contents Copyright @ 1984 by Caribbean Review, Inc. The reproduction of
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Number: 079.7295.

2/CAi?BBEAN IeV ie

Crossing Swords

The Nonexistent Caribbean

By Andres Serbin

At an international conference of Latin
American politicians and academics, there
was a discussion about whether to include
in the final statement a special reference to
the Caribbean. A Mexican senator said,
"Why should we refer to Latin America and
the Caribbean as separate entities if the Ca-
ribbean does not exist." This perception
characterizes the attitude of Latin American
politicians with respect to the Caribbean: it
does not exist. The Dominican Republic is
Latin American; Puerto Rico is Latin Ameri-
can; even Cuba is Latin American; maybe
Haiti in some way is Latin American; but the
rest do not exist.
This attitude, which is shared by the En-
glish-speaking Caribbean with respect to
Latin America, is by no means rooted solely
in the historical conflicts between the Euro-
pean colonial powers in the hemisphere; it
is also reinforced by the different histories of
the two societies. English-speaking Carib-
bean societies developed primarily from a
colonial matrix based on slavery, planta-
tions and a crown colony system. When
decolonization gradually occurred, the so-
cieties were strongly permeated by color
and race contradictions. The Spanish-
speaking nations, which had gained politi-
cal independence from Spain, were charac-
terized by larger territories with more
extensive resources. Their societies were
based on economic exploitation of the lati-
fundio and a process of miscegenation be-
tween the European and Amerindian
populations that resulted in greater aware-
ness of class distinctions than racial ones. In
addition, the Caribbean's recent political in-
dependence in comparison with Latin
America, its strong political, cultural and
economic association with Great Britain,
and subsequently with the United States,
and its closer links with African countries
created the conditions for visualizing the
English-speaking group as some sort of
alien appendage to Latin America. This vi-
sualization has been reinforced by the
border conflicts between Guatemala and
Belize and Venezuela and Guyana, notwith-
standing the existence of similar conflicts
between Latin American nations.
In actual fact, of course, the English-
speaking Caribbean not only exists, it is
actively involved in the international arena.
Latin America's ignorance, or discrediting,

of it, however, has reinforced the distance
and mutual suspicion between the two
groups and has led to continued competi-
tion between them in major international
organizations: the United Nations, where
they struggle for significant posts; the
Organization of American States, where
there is constant confrontation between the
positions of the English-speaking Carib-
bean and Spanish-speaking Latin America;
the Nonaligned Movement, where eth-
nocultural tensions sometimes overshadow
ideological coincidence.
For Latin America, the most striking ex-
amples of the existence and international
projection of the English-speaking Carib-
bean were the positions taken bythe major-
ity of Caribbean countries on the Mal-
vinas/Falkland conflict-a position inter-
preted by Latin Americans as support for
Great Britain-and on the Grenada crisis.
Most Latin American states consider the in-
tervention of external powers in the internal
affairs of independent nations, or in the rec-
lamation of territories, as an obvious sin
calling for immediate rejection and con-
demnation. On the other hand, the opposi-
tion expressed in the OAS by the English-
speaking Caribbean countries (with the ex-
ception of Bishop's Grenada) to the Argen-
tine occupation of the Malvinas Islands was
primarily justified by their rejection of the
use of military means for regaining dis-
puted territories in the face of an eventual
threat to Guyana or Belize. The participation
of the Eastern Caribbean states plus Ja-
maica and Barbados in the October 1983
US landing on Grenada-notwithstanding
the condemnation in CARICOM by Guyana,
Trinidad, Belize and the Bahamas-con-
firmed for most Latin Americans the identi-
fication of the so-called West Indians with
the interests of Great Britain and the United
States, an identification perceived not only
in terms of cultural and linguistic unity, but
even more in terms of political identification
with what Latin Americans consider the
hegemonic or neocolonial interests of these
external agents.
Thus the geopolitical identification of the
Caribbean with Great Britain and the United
States is supported by historical eth-
nocultural perceptions and the systematic
reinforcement of cultural and communica-
tions barriers already existing between the

English-speaking Caribbean and Spanish-
speaking Latin America. Initiatives to re-
move the barriers are primarily inspired by
the growing awareness on the parts of both
groups of their shared Third World condi-
tion, particularly in the area of economic
and social handicaps, and the need for joint
efforts to overcome underdevelopment,
poverty and inequitable income distribu-
Some bilateral and multilateral agree-
ments on economic assistance and cooper-
ation between Latin American countries
and CARICOM states have been steps in this
direction. The best known is the San Jose
agreement initiated by Venezuela and Mex-
ico (to sell oil at preferential prices). There
have also been similar initiatives by other
mid-sized powers of the region, primarily
those linked with participation in the Carib-
bean Development Bank or promoted by
the Latin American Economic System
(SELA) and the Economic Commission for
Latin America (ECLA).
Policies directed toward economic coop-
eration and assistance must be linked with
the search for a new regional consciousness
of mutual interests and destiny in the hemi-
sphere. They must be designed to over-
come the historical barriers of prejudice and
misperceptions. They must work toward
more than recognition by Latin America of
the existence of the English-speaking Ca-
ribbean at the political level; they must also
increase communication and erase the lin-
guistic, cultural and racial obstacles that ini-
tially led to each group's nonrecognition of
the other. ]

Crossing Swords is a
regular feature of Carib-
bean Review. The views
expressed herein are -
the sole opinion of the
authors. Editorial board
member Andrds Ser-
bin teaches social
anthropology at Uni-
versidad Central in
Caracas, Venezuela. A researcher at the
University's Institute of Social and Economic
Research, he is the author of Guyana: Na-
cionalismo, ethnicidad y political, and editor of
Geopolitica de las relaciones de Venezuela con
el Caribe.

CAIBBEAN I 1ev1w/3

..-.- _,7

_ _ .
: ,?: : .... J _,
'.--; -Y


,-I ~



Remembrances of a Jamaica Past

And Reflections on Its Future

By Wendell Bell

When I first went to Jamaica in 1956,
two things struck me within the first
few days and created those vivid
impressions of a new place about which
many travelers have commented. The first
was the Jamaican love-hate relationship
with the British. Jamaicans were attracted
to England, felt pride in things English
compared to American, yet were resentful of
the rejections from England, the intolerable
British domination, the racism, and the dic-
tatorial Colonial Office. The familiar aphor-
ism says it all: "The twin orbs of empire, the
cricket ball and the black ball." (Yet I had to
wonder at the love part of the relationship:
How could a country grab off one-third of
the world creating an empire where "the sun
never set" and end up being considered the
good guy?) By 1956, of course, although its
remains were everywhere in evidence, Brit-
ish rule in Jamaica had had its day; twilight
was fading into night.
The second impression was of clashing
sentiments about the coming political inde-
pendence, the anticipation among some
Jamaicans and the fears and anxieties
among others. Everyone had nationhood,
then viewed as federation, on their minds.
Everyone talked and argued about it. The
future became a battleground where brave
new visions fought an army of dire predic-
tions, where dreams of Camelot faced con-
jured images of Haiti at its worst. All the
while, decisions being made in London for
the most part, meant that nationhood on
some basis was Jamaica's most probable
I remember going to a black-tie dinner at
King's House. Sir Hugh Foote was governor,
and the dinner party included the usual mix
of distinguished foreign diplomats, a local
politician or two, a visiting official from Brit-
ain or Canada, an educational leader, a busi-
nessman, a top civil servant, a military

Wendell Bell teaches sociology and is Director
of Graduate Studies at Yale University. He is
the author of Jamaican Leaders: Political Atti-
tudes in a New Nation, The Democratic Revolu-
tion in the West Indies and The Sociology of the
Future, and coauthor of Decisions of Nation-

officer, and the first black bishop-suffragan
of Jamaica. It was a mixture of colors: the
retiring white British proconsuls and the
rising brown and black local elites who were
coming to power.
When the wives withdrew after dinner, the
gentlemen gathered around Sir Hugh for
cigars and cognac or port, and pretended to
change the subject of conversation to
something that the ladies presumably
wouldn't be interested in or shouldn't
hear-like the latest interest rates on bank
loans or which horses would run well at
Caymanas. Someone suggested to Sir
Hugh that we go into the garden. The dining
room had French doors at one end that
obviously opened into a garden; but by now
it was quite dark out, and I remember think-
ing what a silly idea it was and wondering if
we were supposed to see the garden by
But someone else said that was a jolly
idea and out we went following Sir Hugh.
Outside, I thought that we'd be sharing the
delights of the Aristolochia littoralis, Hip-
pobroma longiflora ortheClerondendrum
philiopinum, better known in Jamaica, re-
spectively, as the duppy basket, the star
flower, and-take your pick-the stink
bush or Lady Nugent's rose. Instead, the
men scattered and started unzipping, or in a
few cases unbuttoning, their trousers. I
found myself next to the bishop who had
reached down and lifted up his cassock
which he now held up under his elbows. I
leaned toward him and asked, "Is this an old
Jamaican custom?"
"No," he answered, "It's something the
British have imposed upon us." Then, a
nearby Jamaican voice whispered, "The
British have been pissin' on Jamaica for
300 years."
That past is gone forever. Beginning in
1944 with limited self-government and uni-
versal adult suffrage, and culminating in
1962, the centuries of political rule by the
British had ended. In the name of the new
national citizenry, Jamaicans took control of
the state, for most ending a journey down a
long, old road from slaves, to subjects, to
citizens and, for some, to leaders of their
own nation at last.

Cultural Identity
Never having been to England until after
several field trips to Jamaica, on my first
visit I had a revelation. Before we had even
left Heathrow Airport for London, I realized
that many of the things that I had identified
as characteristics of underdevelopment in
Jamaica weren't that at all. Rather, they were
simply British: toilets that flushed with the
force of Niagara; screechy telephones; a
fussy concern with rules leading to rigidity
and triviality; the self-importance of small
functionaries; the socialization of the bulk of
the population to the nonachievement
ethic; limited, unequal and selective educa-
tional opportunity; pleasant interruptions
from work for a cup of tea; and never being
unintentionally rude (unlike "those boorish
Americans"). The first great industrial na-
tion was rickety with age in everything from
machinery to management practices (just
as the United States would become 20 years
Most of this has changed. Jamaica has
turned from England more toward the
United States. In trade, education, popular
culture, and even tempo of life, the United
States has been replacing England as the
dominant outside metropole, the major de-
veloped country of reference. Today more of
American culture has gone to Jamaica, and
more of Jamaica-migrants, tourists and
music-has come to the United States.
Jamaica has turned, too, toward the rest
of the world, a trend that began before, al-
though it was accelerated by, the 1972 elec-
tion of Michael Manley and the return to
power of the People's National Party (PNP).
It has opened up to other nations, especially
to the nonaligned states and the Third
World, but also to Communist bloc nations.
Symbolically, the links with the new states of
Africa have been particularly important, be-
cause it is part of one of the most significant
changes in Jamaica since independence: a
change in cultural identity.
Jamaicans now celebrate their own past
by valuing their creole culture, not only the
European contributions, but the Caribbean
and African elements as well. Cultural fes-
tivals, National Heritage Week, National He-
roes Day, place-namings, statue raising,


lister Alexander Bustamante and Ambassador Oliver Franks of England.

innumerable speeches and other cere-
monial activities since independence have
been designed to promote a Jamaican or
West Indian identity. Cultural policies in Ja-
maica now honor the African heritage. For
example, two recently named national he-
roes represent slavery and the slaves' strug-
gle against it. In 1975 Nanny of Maroons
was selected for being a symbol of "the
heroism of the slave woman who had to
bear the brunt of that savage servitude"; and
Sam Sharpe was selected for inspiring the
1831 slave rebellion which contributed, it
has been claimed, to the end of slavery. The
most prominent national hero in this con-
nection, of course, is Jamaican Marcus
Garvey, about whom then-Prime Minister
Michael Manley said, he "was the liberator of
those oppressed in Africa and of African
descent at home and abroad and through-
out the entire world."
Although the government has not yet es-
tablished a ministry of culture, legalized
obeah, or stopped its class and cultural war
on the use of ganja (assuming the United
States government would allow it without
economic reprisals), it has supported a cul-
tural training center which houses schools
of music, dance, drama and the arts. The
External Affairs Guild of the University of the
West Indies has offered workshops in tradi-
tional African wrap and hair braiding,
rhythm drumming and dance; and the In-
stitute of Jamaica began a new African Car-
ibbean Institute.
With nationhood has come a remarkable
change in the cultural identity of Jamaican
elites. Just before political independence in
1962, the majority of Jamaica's top leaders
had Anglo-European life styles and rejected
many aspects of Jamaican and West Indian

culture. In fact, at that time a few leaders
thought the very idea of Jamaican or West
Indian culture was itself ridiculous. By 1974,
the situation had reversed. By then, over 90
percent of Jamaican leaders preferred a life
style that contained some elements of local
culture. Only a tiny minority still preferred
exclusively Anglo-European cultural ele-
ments. There were similar changes in atti-
tudes toward the future cultural develop-
ment of Jamaica, although in this case the
shift away from Anglo-European culture in-
cluded a few elites who desired a change not
exclusively to local and African cultural ele-
ments, but toward pluralism and cosmo-
No doubt some of the change toward
local cultural orientations is cynical and pro-
tective coloration for light-skinned elites in a
society increasingly conscious of the Af-
rican origins of the bulk of the population.
One well-known leader who did not want to
be identified with his comment told me, "If
they want to tie a rag around their head, let
them. So what?" Yet he was only partly
skeptical of the move to appreciate the Af-
rican origins and partly simply questioning
the authenticity of some of its recent man-
ifestations. Some of the change may be
actively instrumental in the case of leaders
who face black voters and black union
members. Some is an honest struggle to
come to terms with the ambiguities and
contradictions of Jamaica's past, a redefini-
tion of one's preference toward Jamaican
and West Indian cultural identity, but some-
times with an insistence on the importance
of the European contributions to the Jamai-
can tradition. And some, too, it must be
granted, is the sincere striving to mend the
broken culture of the African heritage, to

Sir Kenneth Blackburne, last Governor General
of Jamaica.

release it from its past submersion and its
continued technical and economic subor-
dination to the white Euro-American world,
as Rex Nettleford has said.

In 19581 returned to Jamaica with stacks of
mail questionnaires, prepared to conduct
one of the first such surveys in Jamaica. At
the start, everything seemed to go wrong,
including a strike of postal workers shortly
after my first wave was sent out. Before that,
however, I wasn't even sure that I could send
out any questionnaires at all. The university
required me to get permission to do the
study from the government. No one I went
to wanted to take responsibility for the deci-
sion, so I met, penultimately, it turned out,
with the last British governor-general of Ja-
maica, Sir Kenneth Blackburne. Although
he listened sympathetically, he said that the
time had passed when a British governor
could give anyone such permission, and he
sent me to see the top elected political
leader, Norman W. Manley, then chief minis-
ter. Mr. Manley listened politely but noncom-
mitally to my description of the goals and
methods of the study. A few days later I got a
letter from Sir Kenneth saying that he and
Mr. Manley had discussed the matter and
that I could send my questionnaires to any-
one I pleased, because the chief minister
and he had decided that Jamaica was a free
Because at the time 1 thought that this
was curious phrasing (I mean, could they
have decided differently?), I told quite a
number of people about it in addition to my
friends at the Institute of Social and Eco-
nomic Research. Word got back to King's
House fast. A few days later I received a call


Canadian Prime Minister John Diefenbaker and Prime Minister Alexander Bustamante.

from Sir Kenneth's secretary during which,
in a reproachful tone of voice, she said that
my note from Sir Kenneth had been confi-
dential (1 pointed out to her that it had not
been so marked). She called the note an
inadvertent and unfortunate phrasing.
"Would you," she said, "please not mention
it and get on with your research!"
Although it may have been inadvertent, it
was also revealing. It was one small indica-
tor of events that led me and my co-workers
to formulate "the decisions of nationhood"
as a framework for a series of studies of the
new states of the Caribbean. Nearly every-
thing about the emergent state of Jamaica,
in fact, was in the process of "being de-
cided" during this time. It was part of the
period of nation-founding that was to last
through independence in August 1962, and
that was to merge with the subsequent tasks
of nation-building. The decisions of nation-
hood included such obvious things as pick-
ing a national flag, motto, anthem, flower,
tree and other national symbols; deciding
on the geographical boundaries of the new
state, with Jamaica finally opting out of a
West Indian nation to seek independence
on its own; and it included some less ob-
vious things difficult to comprehend for a
social scientist who characteristically takes
such things as given and structurally deter-
mined, such as choosing a form of govern-
ment, a desirable social structure, a useful
and worthy national character, and a digni-
fied history and culture that represented all
Jamaicans. The governor-general's word-
ing couldn't have been more apt. Every-
thing-government, society, culture and
national personality-had been made
problematic. Jamaican leaders were decid-
ing whatJamaica and Jamaicans would be-

come, although without due allowance,
perhaps, for the recalcitrance of human
beings and the unintended, unanticipated
and unrecognized consequences of politi-
cal and social action.
Jamaica is indeed a free country. It has
managed to maintain a Western-style dem-
ocratic government in both senses of the
term. First, it has a competitive system
based on elections that are mostly free and
fair. In the first nine general elections, from
1944 to 1980, a two-party system evolved
with each of the major parties, the Jamaica
Labour Party (JLP) and the People's Na-
tional Party (PNP), alternating in power with
the other after serving two terms in office.
Even the debacle of the 1983 elections that
the PNP refused to contest and that resulted
in a single-party House of Representatives
appears not to have wrecked the system.
Party competition continues in local gov-
ernment and the PNP continues its role of
opposition, although not in the chambers of
Gordon House.
Second, and equally important, is the fact
that basic freedoms of speech, assembly,
the press, religion and movement exist in
Jamaica (as does the simple freedom of
talking to or asking questions of people if,
as responsible adults, they choose to re-
spond). Public liberties are maintained-
and were largely maintained through the
ideological polarization of the major politi-
cal parties and the bitter struggles of recent
A democratic system, of course, was not
simply imposed on Jamaica by the British.
It was, rather, an important part of Jamaican
nationalists' image of Jamaica's future. Al-
though British influence no doubt led to
adopting the Westminster model, a variety

of other forms might have been selected
that would have satisfied the basic require-
ments of a competitive system and the
guarantee of public liberties. Furthermore,
Jamaican nationhood itself-just as that of
the new states of Africa, Asia and elsewhere
in the Caribbean since World War II-was a
manifestation of the worldwide democratic
revolution that had its beginnings in the
latter part of the 18th century in Europe and
North America, and that spread through
Central and South America in the 19th
Our studies once again confirmed the
well-known truth: Political democracy of the
Western variety is despised both by the far
right and the ultraleft. The extreme left call it
"bourgeois democracy," with scornful
stress on "bourgeois." The utopian social-
ists, from whom Marx took many of his
ideas despite his attempt to distance him-
self from them, rejected liberal and demo-
cratic ideology, including the idea of
political rights. William Godwin, Robert
Owen, Charles Fourier and Henri Saint-Si-
mon, for example, looked on democracy as
a defective system compared to their pro-
posed utopian solutions, their blueprints for
perfect societies that needed no further im-
provements and that stood at the end of
history. For them democratic institutions,
by contrast, represented merely a way of
negotiating the future, compromising val-
ues, and reaching only temporary, unstable
and imperfect resolutions of conflict and
selection of collective goals. Such "imper-
fections" are precisely the strengths of
Western democratic systems. Democracy,
where it genuinely exists, permits unor-
thodoxy to exist. Unorthodoxy may be es-
Continued on page 34


Inside Rasta

The Future of a Religious Movement

By Leahcim T. Semaj

Rastafari, a dynamic phenomenon,
entered the consciousness of the
world via Jamaica. What began pri-
marily as a religious counteraction to the
imperialistic outcomes of Eurocentric
Christendom, has grown into an all-encom-
pasing quest by Africans in the diaspora to
regain their identity, dignity and, ultimately,
control of their destiny. The Rastafari move-
ment, therefore, questions the alien values
that black people have adopted and has
been working towards articulating and im-
plementing corrective measures. What is
the future of this process? To answer this
question, one must evaluate the develop-
ment and transformation of the movement
through its three phases, from 1930 to the

The Damn Rasta Dem
During 1930 to about 1971 the move-
ment's main activities centered around the
development and clarification of its doc-
trine, concepts and ideas, with the area of
influence being Jamaican society. The
basic doctrine throughout the movement
during this phase was: (1) Ras Tafari is the
living God. (2) Ethiopia is the home of the
black man. (3) Repatriation is the way of
redemption for black men. It has been fore-
told and will occur shortly. (4) The ways of
the white men are evil, especially for the
black. Additional concerns included the fol-
lowing: (1) All the brethren wanted local
recognition and freedom of movement and
speech, which are essential human rights.
(2) All wanted an end of persecution by
government and police. (3) Some brethren
wanted improved material, social and eco-
nomic conditions until repatriation. (4)
Some brethren wanted educational provi-
sions, including adult education and techni-
cal training, and employment. (5) Some
brethren suggested that a special fund be
established. (6) Others asked for a radio
program to tell Jamaica about their doc-
trine, and some asked for press facilities.
It was during this period that most of the

Leahcim T Semaj is a research fellow in the
Department of Extra Mural Studies, University
of the West Indies, Mona, Kingston, Jamaica.

present Rastafari houses were established
or begun: the Ethiopian Coptic Faith by
brother Hibbert (1932), Youth Black Faith
by Boanerges and other brethren (1940),
Ethiopian Mystic Masons by Hibbert
(1941), Peoples' Progressive Party (Sam
Brown contested the general elections,
1962), Twelve Tribes begun (1968) and
Rasta Movement Association (RMA) regis-
tered (1969). An important period in that
phase was the ten months from January to
October 1968, when Walter Rodney was in
Jamaica and gave a series of public lectures
on black power and African history. He
helped facilitate the fusion between Rasta,
the left and the University of the West Indies.
No one since Garvey had made that kind of
connection, the credible input of African
history, and had taken it to the people.
Whereas before only Rastas were talking
about those things, now a UWI lecturer was
raising similar issues. Rodney was banned
from Jamaica. The key publication resulting
from phase one is the little booklet, Report
on the Rastafari Movement in Kingston,
first published by the institute for Social and
Economic Research in 1960. It has been
reprinted six times by the Department of
Extra-Mural Studies. Another publication
that provided a good summary of the first
phase is Nettleford's Mirror Mirror published
in 1970.
In phase one, the dominant public senti-
ment regarding Rastafari was The damn
Rasta dem, wey de Rasta dem want, we
just put dem in a damn boat and put dem
out in the sea and sink the boat-say dem
want go Africa! Conflict, fear and repres-
sion were the order of the day. For example,
in 1954 the destruction of Pinnacle dis-
persed Rasta around the slums of Kingston;
in 1959 there were raids on Back-O-Wall
and the forcible shaving of Rastas; in 1963
the Coral Gardens incident when the chief,
Sir Alexander, said "Bring in all Rastafari
dead or alive"; in 1963 a program on JBC
Radio, the "Lion of Juda Time," was taken
off the air; on 12 July 1966, Operation
Shanty Town saw over 250 policemen bull-
dozing Back-O-Wall, clearing all the places
that were at that time inhabited by Rastas.
This was phase one: "The damn Rasta

dem": problems, confrontation, conflict. To-
day we see a parallel in that the sentiments
of conflict, fear and repression are indicative
of the dominant public attitude toward
Rastafari outside of Jamaica, especially in
the rest of the Caribbean.

Guess Who Dread?
In phase two, 1971-1981, we are talking
about the expansion of the concept of
Rastafari, at home and abroad. There are
two basic people associated with phase two.
The first is Michael Manley, and the Peoples'
National Party (PNP). Their presence in
power and their political and cultural state-
ments provided a context within which
things African and things black could flour-
ish to some extent. The second is Bob Mar-
ley and his music. It was in 1973 that Marley
started serious tours with Island Records.
So the sound, the word-sound on Rastafari,
started to spread widely. During that period,
Bob Marley and reggae music and Rastafari
were on the cover of virtually every music
magazine, especially between 1975 and
1977. Often references were also made to
the PNP directly or indirectly. For example,
the whole issue of September 1976 High
Times Magazine was on Rasta. They had a
picture of Manley with dreadlocks, with the
caption "Is Michael Manley a Rasta Fidel?"
Other issues included Rasta theology, how
to roll a splif, music, can whites escape
Babylon, how to eat Rasta: this was typical
of what was coming out in 1975, 1976,
and 1977.
At this time the dominant public senti-
ment regarding Rastafari was: "Guess who
dread?" typically with respect to uptown
people's children. Everybody's daughter
was either bringing home a dreadlocks or
dreading herself. As phase two progressed,
Rasta started spreading throughout the
Caribbean, and to this date the majority of
the Caribbean is still in phase two. The four
basic symbols of Rasta outside of Jamaica,
in the rest of the Caribbean, are dreadlocks,
ital food, reggae music and ganja. They
would be shocked to know that there were
Rastas in Jamaica who were not dread, did
not smoke herb, did not eat ital, and even
many groups which didn't deal with reggae

8/cArBBEAN rwVIe

Bob Marley. B =.

Emperor Haile Selassie and family. Grating coconut for flavoring ital food.

Rasta children. Photos (top right and above) from Rastafari: A Way of Life, by Tracy Nichols and Bill Sparrow. Text Copyright @ 1979 by Tracy Nichols.
Photographs Copyright 1979 by Bill Sparrow. Published by Doubleday and Co., Inc.


music as such.
Outside of Jamaica, information regard-
ing Rastafari has largely come from the ex-
pansion of reggae music and what appears
on the album covers. Hence the rest of the
Caribbean has some strange practices to-
day. Recently, when I was supposed to go to
the British Virgin Islands for the second
time in two years, I received a cable from the
governor stating that I was barred from
going there, even though I had a letter from
the Mental Health Department requesting
me to help them set up some mental health
programs. They have a law called the Pro-
hibited Persons Act, which came into effect
in 1980 and bars all Rastas and hippies.
This is the result of the expansion of Rasta.
In St. Kitts 1 underwent a strip search about
six months ago even though I was just
changing planes in the place, but they have
a practice that anybody who is Rasta and is
not from there is harassed. When I got to
Anguilla, they called the chief of police im-
mediately; I responded by calling the head
of the Ministry of Education. So itwas a case
of whose phone call was higher. As I got off
the plane in Antigua the customs officer
greeted me with "go stan' up in the corner
boy." I said, "Hold on, before you do that, call
Dr. Edris Bird and tell her Dr. Semaj is here."
The response in the Caribbean is similar to
phases one and two in Jamaica: "the damn
Rasta dem," and "Guess who dread?" Now
they are dealing with the two concepts at the
same time.
The response to phase two from New
York was interesting. I recently received a
copy of an intelligence report done by the
New York City Police Department [see fol-
lowing story-Eds.]. The cover states: "The
information furnished regarding the
Rastafarian Cult is for purposes of law en-
forcement only, and for no other reason. It is
to be treated on a privileged and confiden-
tial level and the contents shall not be dis-
closed to any persons or organization, or
used for any purpose other than that of a
duly authorized official or tribunal acting in
its official capacity, without permission of
the Police Commissioner, City of New York."
This report classifies Rastas as "youth
gangs" and includes surveillance reports in
Washington D.C. and New York City. Inter-
estingly, the report also makes a distinction
between "the true Rastafarian, who is law
abiding and proud," and the "drug dealers
and criminals."
Britain also responded to the expansion
to phase two, which, interestingly, in con-
trast to New York and the rest of the Carib-
bean, came in the form of the Catholic
Commission Report on Racial Justice, pub-
lished in 1982. In summary they stated that
"Rastafari should be recognized as a valid
religion . Christians and Christian
churches should take whatever oppor-
tunities they have to be able to create and
relate to Rastafarians as they would to be-

lievers of any other non-Christian faith ...
The Christian church and other religious
groups should exercise appropriate influ-
ence over their institutions so that they may
relate to the members of the Rastafarian
movement .. Rastafarian style of dress
should be accepted as authentic religious
expressions..." They also went so far as to
state that the Catholic Church should be
encouraged to make their property avail-
able to Rastas, since Rastas many times
have no place to meet.
The key publication coming out in phase
two of Rastafari was Joseph Owen's book,
Dread (Sangster's 1976), which allowed

Blacks who try to be white
are referred to as roast
breadfruit; they are black
on the outside but white
on the inside.

Rastas to speak for themselves through his
tape recorder.
As we look back at phase two, we can
develop a profile of the psychological pro-
cess by which one grows into the vision of
Rastafari. The spectrum of black people's
identity in the Caribbean, of which Jamaica
is no exception, comprises three types of
people. We have the alien-identity people,
those blacks who try to be white. Nettleford
refers to them as roast breadfruit; they are
black on the outside but white on the inside.
They give total allegiance to people who are
not of them. They are in the minority, but
usually influential. At the other extreme are
the Afrocentric people who identify them-
selves as black people, Africans, without
apology. These are also a small group. The
largest group is what we call the diffused-
identity people. They move back and forth,
depending on how the wind blows. They
know that black is beautiful but they also
know that white is powerful, so they try to be
a little of both, depending on what the case
may be. One day they're wearing red, green
and gold; the next day it's jerri-curls.

What You Are Against
The primary vehicle through which Jamai-
cans with Afrocentric identity can develop
has been Rastafari. These people become
what we call "Rasta adolescents." I believe
that about 70 percent of those who become
"Rasta adolescents" are from an Afrocentric
identity, while about 30 percent are from the
diffused identity. Rasta adolescence sym-
bolizes protest and rebellion. It refers to a
person who is reacting to the contradictions
of race, class and exocentricity that exist in
Jamaica. One is also testing his or her lim-
its. It is often the phase where: "I man don't

wear shoes no more"; "I man don't drive in
car"; "I man don't wear nothing with
leather." The focus is largely on what you are
against. The person is often "anti the social
order," but it comes off as being anti-social,
especially with respect to their friends and
family. These people tend to be very intol-
erant at times. However, they have a "world
image," not a world view; they have some
rough concepts of the way they would like to
see the world, but they cannot really articu-
late them. They can tell you what they don't
want but they can't really say what they do
want. What they do is mimic their model of
Rasta manhood, because the adolescent
mimics a concept of manhood. So, if their
concept of manhood is a reggae star, they
will want to play a guitar; if their concept of
manhood is an herb dealer, then they will
want to be an herb dealer; if their concept of
manhood is a brethren who just stays on the
beach, minds his own business, does some
fishing and carving, they'll mimic that, with-
out truly comprehending it.
However, the Rasta adolescence phase
tends to be ghetto-centric, not Afro-centric.
Since the person is negating what they are
against, they tend to want to throw off the
perspective from which they came. Some
people tend to fixate at this stage. However, I
estimate that about 40 percent leave this
phase and become black conscious adults;
they give up the Rasta perspective but con-
tinue to see themselves as black/-
Afrocentric. Of the rest, about 30 percent
become Rasta man or Rasta woman. The
Rasta man or woman is proactive, produc-
tive, Afrocentric, uses tradition with reason,
and now has a world view. It is not a matter
of what they are against but what they are
for. The black conscious person shares
much of this but lacks the personal commit-
ment and strong effect. In the final option,
one can move back from the Rasta adoles-
cence, depending on how much pressure
one gets for trying to express that perspec-
tive. This will take you back into your state of

Put Up or Shut Up
The transition to phase three involved the
same two personalities that facilitated the
movement to phase two. In December
1980, Michael Manley and the PNP were
removed from office in Jamaica. This
brought about a dramatic change in the
country's international, political and cul-
tural policies. It is as if Jamaica ceased
being a part of the Third World. The second
component of the transition was the death
of Marley in 1981. Now we had the removal
of the context that had partially facilitated
expansion and acceptance at home. With-
out Marley, many Rastas who were middle
class by birth or training now found them-
selves on the front line of the movement.
Whereas in the past they could just chant
Continued on page 37


Rasta Crime

A Confidential Report

By the N.Y.C. P.D.

The following is excerpted from a priv-
ileged report prepared by the intelligence
division of the Pblice Department of the
City of New York. Background materials
were written in 1977; strategic analysis
in 1983. The information contained in
the analysis was classified as "raw
intelligence" not having been substanti-
ated sufficiently to classify it as "refined
intelligence" All references to names
mentioned, or to the authors have been
deleted; disparate sections have been
interwoven with the main ones. It is
important to remember that time and
again the authors caution that when
they are talking about Rastas involved
in crime, they are speaking only about a
portion of the total Rasta community.
The report is not presented in full, nor is
it published with N.YC. RD. approval.
The Editors.

he following [report], pertaining to
the Ras Tafarian Cult, was prepared
with the expressed purpose of reveal-
ing the cultural concepts of this particular
group. It is meant to be a guide to those
commands and specialized units, having
large West Indian communities within their
respective areas.
The Intelligence Division has continu-
ously stated that all Ras Tafarians are not
criminals. This [report] is supportive of that
claim. The primary objective of this report is
to give a brief illustration of the philosophi-
cal and religious doctrines of this group in
Jamaica, West Indies, as well as here in the
United States. Also, by briefly explaining the
socioeconomic structure of the "Rasta" in
Jamaica, one may understand why many
choose to migrate illegally to this country.
Many of the "Rastas" in this country (il-
legally or legally) tend to stray from their
tenets and engage in criminal activity,
using their religious doctrines as a cover for
their criminal behavior. It is hoped that this
report will assist in assessing what influence
this group will have in New York City.

The Ras Tafarian Cult
Ras Tafarianism is a religion. As fragmented
as it may appear to our society, to a Rasta it

is a strong religion. Rasta roots lie in a com-
plex soil of everything from the Old Testa-
ment Bible interpretation to contemporary
world affairs, and from a Jamaica of today to
a messianic and visionary Africa of tomor-
row. It is born out of the "stranger-in-a-
strange-land" feelings of the modern-day
Afro-Caribbean and out of a Euro-African
cultural sphere still bearing the scars of the
plantation slave society. A "true" Ras Taf-
arian is a law-abiding, proud individual.
Among his peer group he is referred to as a
"Brethren." The term brethren is one of
honor; it denotes one who is "true" or hav-
ing total commitment to the Ras Tafarian
The following doctrine is the basic con-
cept of the Ras Tafarian: Ras Tafari is the
living God; Ethiopia is the black man's
home; Repatriation is the way of redemption
for black men. It has been foretold, and will
occur shortly; The ways of the white man
are evil, especially for the blacks.
The brethren do not speak of people join-
ing their cult. In their view, the doctrine is in
them at birth but unfolds and comes into
consciousness when they recognize the
Emperor Haile Selassie (who was Prince
Ras Tafari, prior to being crowned King of
Kings, Emperor of Ethiopia) as God, and
themselves become fully conscious. When
this happens, the convert makes a private
vow or pledge to his God, usually to a photo-
graph of the Emperor, that he will abide by
the laws of God and the rules of the doctrine
such as those regarding their hair. On this
basis some differentiation is made between
the "true," "partial" and "false" brethren.
This is sometimes expressed as the elect
and the non-elect, or the priests and the
members; but whenever these distinctions
are declared, groups reject their ap-
plicability to themselves.
Among the Ras Tafari, an important and
extremely complex set of ideas cluster
around reincarnation. There is no general
rule that an individual should have the same
name once he is reincarnated. The follow-
ing are examples of various beliefs adopted
by the Ras Tafari brethren toward reincarna-
tion. Some brethren affirm in conversation,
that they personally and physically experi-

enced the whips of slave-drivers. Another
brethren gave this view, "men are reincar-
nated through the male line, for this reason
it is not possible for the brethren in Jamaica
to be repatriated by reincarnation." An even
more incomprehensible approach toward
rebirth, or reincarnation was expressed by
another brethren in this manner. He main-
tained that the "doctrine of reincarnation
was false on mathematical grounds, since
there are not enough dead souls to meet
requirements of an expanding population."
This final view tends to be more sophisti-
cated in its approach. "Reincarnation is the
reaffirmation of one's lost culture and tradi-
tions." In this view the Africans who were
brought to Jamaica had "our culture beaten
out of us, our language, and all that our
forefathers did. We reincarnate in this cul-
ture through Almighty God Ras Tafari."
All brethren who regard Ras Tafari as
God, regard Man as God. Man, are those
who know the Living God, the brethren.
Men are the sinners who do not, and some
of these sinners are the oppressors, e.g.,
"Thirty Locks men" is improper speech
among the brethren; correctly stated it is
"Thirty Locksman," for man is one, in God
and with God. In a crude interpretation, the
brethren feel that for this reason there are no
leaders, only knowledge, prophecy and
Men die, being sinners. Man (the be-
lievers) do not die. For this reason the dead
(non-believers) should be left to bury their
own dead, since death only applies to sin-
ners. As an example, the death of Emperor
Haile Selassie (as we speak of death) has no
significance toward the beliefs of the "true
Ras Tafari." God, being Man and eternal,
Man lives eternally in the flesh, as well as the
spirit. Heaven, which is in Ethiopia, is wait-
ing to receive the brethren. Duppies (ones
who are easily deceived), ghosts and the like
are nonsense. Prophecy has various forms
and sometimes dreams are messages.

The New Adopted Language
The Ras Tafarians are inventing their own
language, based upon the existing ele-
ments of English that would faithfully reflect
their religious experience and their percep-


tion of self, life and the world. This nev
language emphasizes the reemergence of
the African mother-tongue and includes a
special place for the assertion of the indi-
vidual, in a world that has historically denied
the individual.
The Ras Tafarian language comes with a
whole new vocabulary of "I-words" which ex-
press not only their individualism but also the
unity they see among themselves. For in-
stance, the plural of "I", instead of being "we'.
is "I and I" or "I-n-I". Their word for "myself" is
"l-self' and for "ourselves", "I-n-Iself'.
Through this use of the first person pro-
noun, the Ras Tafarian is redefining the im-
portance of his own personhood in relation-
ship to "Jah" (the Rasta word for God) and to
society. Passages of scripture are often re-
vised to portray this new way of speech, for
instance in the following Psalm; "The Lord is
I-n-I shepherd. I-n-I shall not want. He makes
I-n-I to lie down in green pastures. He leadet-
I-n-I to beside the still and preciouswaters. He
restores I-n-l internal qualities. He leads I-n-I
in the path of rightfulness for his name is
This new language when used by the
criminal element within the Ras Tafarians,
provides many problems to those outside
the cult: a) When a law enforcement officer
has occasion to arrest a group of "Rastas,"
very often the brethren will utilize this lan-
guage to prepare their "cover stories." The
language prevents the arresting officer
from knowing what is being said. b) Within
the West Indian community, "Rastas" speak
freely among themselves realizing that the
average West Indian will find it difficult to
comprehend what is being discussed. The
language also serves to identify "true be-
lievers" to one another. c) This language is
very often used at West Indian social affairs
by the brethren. This facilitates their plotting
of criminal acts such as robbery or shooting
Members of the Department should be
aware that a "Rasta" may speak this lan-
guage in an attempt to avoid answering
questions. He may also try to appear as
though he doesn't speak or understand the
English langauge.
The following denotes the language used

by members of the Ras Tafarian cult, when
engaged in conversation with a fellow
brethren. Among the criminal element
within the cult, this language allows them to
plan a robbery or assault of another un-
suspecting Jamaican, and/or West Indian.
Very often plots will be made to attack or rob
a victim in his presence, utilizing this means
of communication, without the potential
victim having knowledge of what is being
discussed or intended.
The example given below is to indicate
what a conversation may possibly sound
like. The manner of conversation or ex-
pressions may vary according to the area or
town the Ras Tafarian may come from in
Jamaica. Conversation: 1)Dread, I-N-I
check you out to step. 2) You no see? 3)
Manifest! 4)Bring l-Selftool and machine,
5)mash it up. 6)I-N-Ijuke a brother. Trans-
lation: 1) Greetings, you and I going to visit
someone in person to move on something.
2) Do you understand? 3) Plan a score! 4)
Bring me a gun and machine gun. 5) Han-
dle it! 6) You and me rip someone off. A
fellow Jamaican.
The following Intelligence Division gloss-

ary was prepared as an illustration of the
terminology used by various cells within the
Ras Tafarian cult. These specific terms may
or may not apply to your particular geo-
graphic area of work!
Gate ............... house, apartment, etc.
Steep .............................. hot.
You no see .... you don't understand, or do
you understand?
Mash it up ..................... handle it.
tYs or Yatsy ...... ............ ... clothes.
Dread ........ also refers to "Rasta," i.e., all
dread up in court.
Trans ............................... car.
Checkyouout .going to visit someone in
Check it out ...look a score over to see if it is
worth doing, and the risk of
getting caught.
Brother .................. fellow Jamaican.
Clap ............................ shot.
Yellow paper .counterfeit Canadian $50.00
*Juke ........ holdup, rob or rip someone off.
*Juke .............................. stab.
Step ................. move on something.
Manifest .................... plan a score.
York .............. New York, (city or state).
Yard ................. Jamaica, West Indies.


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Bite .............................. arrest.
Teeth ............................ bullets.
Beasts ............................Police.
Irie ...........a greeting used mostly when
bidding someone goodby.
Dread ........a greeting used when first
meeting each other. Some-
times used when parting
*Yeng ............................... gun.
*Puppy or Dog ....................... gun.
*Tool ............................... gun.
*Gong .............................. gun.
Shooty ......................... shotgun.
Machine ................... machine gun.
Rings ..................... guns & bullets.
*lly ........................... m marijuana.
*Corn ....................... marijuana.
*Food ......................... m marijuana.
*Ganja ................... marijuana/herb.
Fire .................. Police approaching.
Brigade ................... ... Junglelites.
*Front Liners ................... Junglelites.
*Hot Steppers .................. Junglelites.
Baldheads ... .straights; undesirables, as in
"chase those baldheads out of
Babylon ......the world outside of Rasta's
world; the power structure, the
Bloodclot .......... bad, e.g., cocksuckerr."
Bumbaclot ............... motherfucker.
Dread ........righteous, living by Rasta's
Dreadlocks ...braids most Rastas wear,
sometimes concealed under a
Ganga........ herb. Note: not to be called
"pot or reefer, or dope." To the
Rastaman, ganja is a
Herb ......................... m marijuana.
I and I ........1, we, you and me. When a
Rastaman speaks, he speaks
for all Rastamen and even for
Ras Tafari himself.
Iree ..........the highest, the most
Iree-ites ......higher than the highest, even
more righteous.
Jah ............................. God.
Mon.......... man; often added to other
words, Herb-man, I-man,
Pussyclot .................... unpleasant.
Ras Clot ............. worse than bloodclot.
Ras Tafari .....Haile Selassie, the Lion of Ju-
dah and head of the Ras Taf-
arian faith. To the Rastaman,
reports of Selassie's death
have been greatly exag-
Roots ........"pure" reggae; the most spir-
itual music.
Rudeboys ............ young Ras Tafarians.
Seen .........do you see? Do you under-
Shit stem .............. society, the system.
Spliff .........pronounced spleef. Joint, one
ounce of ganja makes approx-
imately four (4) spliffs.
*Note: The use of terms are indicative of area or
territory in which a Ras Tafarian was raised on the
island of Jamaica, West Indies, e.g., Kingston,
Raetown, Dunkirk, Concrete Jungle, Spanish
Town, Lizard Town, etc.

Black Nationalism
All Ras Tafari brethren agree that the black
man is exploited in the Western World, and
must get back to Africa. For some this is a
secular doctrine, derived from the history of
the Negro during slavery and since. For oth-
ers it is a religious doctrine, enshrining the
proposition that the black man is the
chosen race of God.
The secular view is rooted both in history
and in the contemporary social structure of
Jamaica. The majority of society recognizes
that Negroes were exploited during slavery.
Ras Tafari brethren assert that Negroes are
still exploited.
When challenged, the brethren point to
the contemporary situation, where eco-
nomic and racial lines run close together.
Eighty percent of Jamaica's population is
black, about two percent is white, and most
of the rest is colored. By and large, the eco-
nomic system is a pyramid with whites at
the top, colored in the middle, and blacks at
the bottom. It is difficult to pretend that in
Jamaica today, the average black child,
brown child and white child have equal
chances at birth.
The slums of Kingston are excellent
breeding grounds for black nationalism.
Unemployment is endemic and widespread
in Kingston, and many persons who ac-
tively seek employment have for years had
only occasional casual labor. The areas
where many Ras Tafari brethren live have no
water, light, sewage disposal or collection of
rubbish. It is not strange that those who live
in these conditions would like to emigrate.
Marcus Garvey taught that the black man
would find his soul only by turning his back
on white civilization, and returning to Africa
to live under black government. All Ras Taf-
ari brethren believe this to be true.

Marijuana or Ganja;
Beards and Locks
The variety of marijuana grown in Jamaica,
West Indies, and identified by its East Indian
name "Ganja," is highly popular and in de-
mand here in the United States. This mari-
juana is smuggled, in a variety of sophist-
icated ways, into this country. Some
brethren will have nothing to do with ganja,
while others accord it religious significance.
It is identified by its users with the herb of
Genesis 8, Psalm 18 and Revelations 22.
Those who smoke ganja say that it has
therapeutic effects, and keeps away illness.
They deny that it is harmful. To those who
assert that ganja smoking makes some
men violent, the brethren argue that "also
does drinking rum." They further argue
that, "if it is not illegal to drink rum, why is it
illegal to smoke ganja'?
Massive amounts of ganja are smoked
daily by Ras Tafarians either in large, fat
cigarette-like, hand-rolled "spliffs," or in the
"chillum," a water pipe that is passed in


ritual fashion from one to another. At pres-
ent it has yet to be established scientifically
that massive amounts of marijuana con-
sumed daily by the brethren can alter their
mental attitudes, or tend to make them
more violent.
The most obvious source of division and
dispute among the brethren is the treat-
ment of hair. The brethren fall into three
categories: a) Locksman, whose hair is mat-
ted and plaited and never cut, neither the
beard; b) Beardsmen, who wear their hair
and beards, but may trim them occasionally
and do not plait the hair, but keep it clean
(Note: Both of these groups wear mous-
taches.); c) Baldhead, or "clean-faced" man
who is not obviously distinguishable from
ordinary Jamaicans except by some article
such as the yellow, green and red pompom
or scarf.
Clean-faced men are mostly employed.
Many employed men who have not overtly
declared themselves to be brethren are
deeply sympathetic to/or interested in their
doctrines and movement, and some of
these wear beards.
Not all beardsmen in Kingston are Ras
Tafari brethren; many criminals have
adopted the beard as a form of disguise and
because it enables them to penetrate Ras
Tafari groups in the slums and facilitates
access to ganja and information. Many who
profess the doctrine in any of its forms, may
do so for ulterior motives. The Ras Tafari
brethren are themselves very conscious of
Clean-faced men argue that beards (in
view of current Jamaican attitudes which
are hostile to the Ras Tafari), deprive people
of employment. Beardsmen are divided
among themselves. Some who have fairly
regular jobs and carry themselves with dig-
nity, hold that the beard and long hair are
enjoined on brethren but should be kept
clean and neat as the Emperor keeps his
beard and hair.
Those who lack employment, blame the
"Babylonian conspiracy," holding govern-
ment and public attitudes responsible for
their plight, and take pride in the beard as
the precept or cross which they bear for their
religion among the heathen (Babylon in this
context, represents the establishment). It is
a short step from this position to that
adopted by the Locksmen. Locksmen point
with pride to photographs of East African
tribesmen whose coiffure is almost identical
with their own. They regard themselves as
the most elect and purest adherents to the
doctrine, the persons who have suffered the
most for their religion and race, and the
vanguard, the Ethiopian warriors.
Many beardsmen and almost all clean-
faced or baldhead men take a sharply differ-
ent view. To these people the locksmen have
discredited the Ras Tafari movement, and
are bringing it into further disrepute
through their association with ganja, crime

and violent rhetoric. (Note: Early Ras Tafari
brethren were marked by an inner peace
and a comeliness that was possible only of
those who were devoted to a religious life. To
accept the Ras Tafari creed meant being
ostracised from established society. This
meant that during the early stages, the
movement attracted only those committed
to living a life of simplicity.)
The division here is basically between
persons with some commitment to the
standards by which self-respect and self im-
provement are measured in Jamaican soci-
ety, and those whose commitment is to
standards which are totally alien. The
Locksmen have their own standards, and
these are as genuine as any others. To them,
racial pride and religious observance to-
gether require physical appearance almost
identical with that of some East African
Similarly, ganja is an article of use in East
Africa and is regarded as sanctified by God.
As taken from Genesis 3:18, "Thou Shalt
Eat The Herb Of The Field." The criminality
of which they are accused seems to Locks-
men to be simply a "Babylonian lie."

Propensity for Violence
The Ras Tafarian Cult is reported to adopt a
stoic attitude toward violence, probably due
to heavy ingestion of marijuana; the "true"
brethren will no doubt deny this.
Recent events in Kingston, Jamaica, have
increased the acceptability of revolutionary
ideas in that country. Relations between Ras
Tafari brethren and the police have deterio-
rated sharply in Jamaica over the last few
years. This is primarily due to the escalation
of criminal acts in that country, i.e., rob-
beries, extortions and drugs. They have de-
teriorated even more sharply in the last
twelve months, in the course of which police
have carried out extensive raids and made
numerous arrests of Ras Tafarians.
The brethren have a strong sense of per-
secution, which draws them together. In this
mood, an explosion of violence is quite pos-
sible. This strong feeling of persecution
should be of concern to law enforcement
agencies here in New York City as a barom-
eter to new trends or criminal patterns. We
have no evidence that Ras Tafarians, as a
group, are being manipulated by non-Ras
Tafarians with violent beliefs such as activist
or terrorist groups.
The Ras Tafari doctrine is radical in the
broad sense, that it is against the oppres-
sion of black men, much of which derives
from the existing economic structure. But,
it has no links with Marxism, through analy-
sis or prognosis. However, many Marxists
recognize that the violent aspects of the Ras
Tafarian movement provide a potential for
Revolution becomes Redemption, with
repatriation to Africa as the excuse for vio-
Continued on page 39


Swine Fever Ironies

The Slaughter of the Haitian Black Pig

By Bernard Diederich

here is much bitterness in Haiti over
the 13-month-long, $23 million
slaughter of its pig population, a di-
saster so devastating that it has ended a way
of life for the Haitian peasant. "In monetary
terms, it's a loss to the Haitian peasant of
$600 million," says an American veterinar-
ian involved in the pig repopulation pro-
gram. "The real loss to the peasant is
incalculable," says a Haitian economist fa-
miliar with the peasant economy, which, he
says, "is reeling from the impact of being
without pigs. A whole way of life has been
destroyed in this survival economy," he
adds. "This is the worst calamity to ever
befall the peasant."
The peasant subsistence economy is the
backbone of the nation, and pigs were one
of the main components of that economy.
With no banking system available to him,
the peasant relied on hog production as a
bank account to meet his most pressing
obligations: baptism, health care, school-
ing, funerals, religious ceremonies, and pro-
tection against urban-based loan sharks
who would grab his land at the first
The end of the black pig has also caused
severe socio-agro and religious problems
for the ordinary Haitian. The pig played an
important role in the ecology of the Haitian
hoe-and-machete society, helping prepare
the soil for tilling, destroying plagues harm-
ful to plant growth, providing a major
source of fertilizer, and controlling organic
waste. In Haiti's folk religion, one of the prin-
cipal ceremonies, the petro rite, requires the
sacrifice of a black pig. As one houngan
(voudou priest) pointed out, "Not all the
gods will accept black goats as substitutes."

Swine Fever Epidemic
African swine fever first struck Hispaniola
on the east side of the island in the Domin-

Bernard Diederich, chief of Time magazine's
Caribbean bureau, lived in Haiti as editor of
The Haiti Sun for 14 years. He is the author of
Papa Doc (McGraw Hill, 1968), Trujillo, the
Death of the Goat (Little Brown, 1978) and
Somoza and the Legacy of U.S. Involvement in
Central America (E.P Dutton, 1981).

ican Republic in 1978. In 1979 there was an
outbreak of the disease in Haiti's Artibonite
Valley, which is linked to the Dominican Re-
public by the Artibonite River. Usually when
African swine fever strikes, 99 percent of the
pigs that catch the virus die quickly, but in
Haiti the virus was not so lethal. In fact, the
country has been rife with rumors that the
pigs were sacrificed for no good reason,
and many Haitians have questioned
whether the disease was even threatening
their pigs. Among villagers discussing the
pig eradication program, some said it was
unnecessary, that there had been no dis-
ease, that itwas all a plot. After all, their black
pigs had lived for 500 years under ex-
tremely poor conditions and had become
immune to most diseases. Furthermore,
the disease had been at its peak in 1980;
and by the time the eradication program
began in May 1982, no more pigs were
dying. The average peasant believed the
epidemic to be over and saw no reason for
their pigs to be killed.
When the dreaded disease jumped the
Dominican-Haitian border in 1979, the
United States became concerned that it
could, from a beachhead in Haiti, strike the
US pig industry. In the Dominican Republic
the United States had backed an 18-month
campaign to eradicate the 1.4 million Do-
minican pig population. This was followed
by an extensive operation in Haiti, for which
the US provided $23 million, and Mexico,
Canada, and the Dominican Republic pro-
vided field experts and technicians.
Pig owners were paid $30 to $40 for each
pig slaughtered, depending on its age. The
meat could then be sold since the virus does
not affect humans. Officials say they killed
400,000 pigs. Some peasants killed their
own, and there is no figure available on how
many died from the disease itself. The cam-
paign ended in June 1983, but the search for
renegade wild pigs continued, with a bounty
of $300 being offered for any Haitian pig,
dead or alive. One US official estimated that
there could be as few as 40 left.
Beginning in April 1983, imported "sen-
tinel" pigs were placed in 505 locations to
determine whether the virus had been erad-
icated. Over a year later officials proudly

declared that the sentinels had suffered less
than one percent mortality, and that from
bad management or starvation rather than
from swine fever. In early August 1984, agri-
culture experts declared Haiti free of swine
fever, and with this clean bill of health the
task of restocking the country began.

Repopulation Efforts
To bridge the gap between the slaughtering
of the pigs and the repopulation, an "interim
phase swine repopulation project" is under-
way. The US Government, through the
Agency for International Development, has
provided $3 million to the Organization of
American States' Interamerican Institute for
Cooperation in Agriculture (IICA), which is
working with the Haitian government on
this 18-month-long project. The imported
pigs (430 sows and 32 boars) are at two
nucleus breeding centers, farms at Hampco
and Fond des Nbgres. The offspring will be
distributed to secondary multiplication cen-
ters throughout the country. These centers
will distribute the second generation pigs
they breed to small farmers.
The Iowa pigs-Yorkshires, Durocs and
Hampshires-ensconced at the two farms
are living better than the average Haitian.
They lie on clean concrete, under roofed
pens that keep the hot sun off their light
skins, while a mist of water sprays down
from a sprinkler system to help them adjust
to the 90-degree heat of the Haitian sum-
mer. Two teams of workers give them a
morning bath before hosing out the stys.
Some pigs suckle water from a special
faucet (a blatant luxury in Haiti where only
the rich have running water in their homes).
Strict quarantine is enforced through the
use of copper sulphate, visitor showers, and
special overalls and rubber boots. The
American pigs are fed a high-protein, vi-
tamin-laced formula that costs $90 a year
per pig. For poor peasants, $90 is a fantasy
figure-more than most Haitians earn in a
year. (The World Bank says that 75 percent
of the Haitian population earns under the
poverty level of $130 per year.) In fact, when
riots broke out in Cap Haitien last May, peo-
ple were fighting over condemned food that
was going to be fed to the pigs. As Prefect


Painting depicting black pig, by Haitian artist Alix Roy

Auguste Robinson said, it was a sad fact that
the people were competing with the pigs,
and that the American pigs were ac-
customed to a better diet than the local
The interim phase swine repopulation
project is scheduled to end in October
1985. A USAID official says that they have
asked for an extension of the program until

April 1986 to give them more time to con-
tinue surveillance of the repopulation. An
IICA official has calculated that in two years
the country will progress to 8,000 or 9,000
pigs, but if the program continues for five
years, they will have 400,000 pigs, a popula-
tion equal to that killed. The big question
now is how to return the pigs to the peas-
ants who count on them.

The fear is that only the well-off farmers
and the private sector-those who can af-
ford the upkeep-will benefit from the re-
population, and that the poor Haitian will be
cut off from his traditional source of sav-
ings. A Haitian economist familiar with the
peasant economy feels that the average
peasant will not benefit from the pig re-
Continued on page 41


Nicaragua's Uncertain Political


A View of the Elections

By James M. Malloy

In all the noise and vitriol of the debate
surrounding the elections in Nicaragua
on 4 November, a simple but crucial
point was often overlooked. These elections
did not represent a point of closure or a
culminating moment when the Frente
Sandinista (FSLN) consolidated its total
control over Nicaraguan society. The elec-
tions were part of an ongoing process in
which the multiplicity of political groups
who aspire to lead and govern the Nic-
araguan people have sought to give politi-
cal shape and form to the revolutionary
process set in motion by the popular insur-
rection that toppled the dictatorial Somoza
dynasty in July 1979. The central issue was
not the consolidation of the past but the
definition of the future.
One thing now seems clear: The bulk of
the substantive negative judgments leveled
at the Nicaraguan elections, particularly by
the Reagan administration, are operatively
wrong. They distort the process and create,
as much by omission as commission, an
inaccurate portrayal of it.
A senior US diplomat, responding to a
question calling for a comparison with the
criteria used to characterize the recent elec-
tions in El Salvador as more "democratic"
than the Nicaraguan process, opined that "It
is completely legitimate for us to use a dif-
ferent yardstick in judging the behavior of
governments friendly to us than that used to
judge the behavior of those hostile to us."
Such negative characterizations of the elec-
tions, then, reflect the administration's prior
view of the Nicaraguan government as es-
sentially an enemy to be discredited. The
criteria were formulated to change with
each step of the process so that the Sand-
inistas could never meet them no matter
what concessions they made. Given that the
US government was, for all intents and pur-
poses, a direct and negative participant in
the Nicaraguan elections, this might be

James M. Malloy chairs the political science
department at the University of Pittsburgh. He
observed the elections in Nicaragua as a
member of a team formed by the Latin Ameri-
can Studies Association (LASA) at the request
of the Nicaraguan government.

good politics, but it hardly constitutes a
basis for an attempted objective judgment
by those less directly embroiled in the

The Context of the Elections
Nicaragua is only five years into a revolu-
tionary process initiated by a popular mass
insurrection that was not controlled by any
of the groupings presently struggling for
power. Owing to their prominence in the
military struggle against Somoza and their
relative organizational sophistication, the
Sandinistas have been able to assume the
lead in shaping the revolution, but they are
not as yet in complete control of it. The
elections constituted a referendum on the
direction in which Sandinistas have taken
the revolution thus far. The elections also
were aimed at deciding not only which
group would play the major role in defining
the content of the revolution, but also what
role the opposition would play in writing the
new political rules of the game within which
the revolution would unfold.
While revolutions are played out within
nations, they inevitably pull the entire world
toward them, and particularly the antag-
onistic giants of the Cold War. The Nic-
araguan revolution is perforce a national
and an international process. On the inter-
national dimension, the election was cast as
a referendum of world opinion on the legit-
imacy of the revolutionary process-as op-
posed to the insurrection-and particularly
on the role of the FSLN.
Viewed in this perspective, we can impute
some motives and goals to the FSLN in their
calling of the elections for 4 November. Inter-
nally, the aim was to assure as large a regis-
tration and turnout as possible and to beat
the opposition as convincingly as possible.
There is little doubt that the Sandinistas, not
unlike incumbents in a variety of "demo-
cratic" settings, called the elections on the
firm assumption that they would win con-
vincingly, especially in the presidential race.
If nationally the strategy was to produce
support measured by votes, internationally
it was to shape the future behavior of gov-
ernments by creating a favorable climate of
opinion within and around them. The most

immediate aim was to constrain the behav-
ior of the US government, which in effect
was waging war against the government of
Nicaragua with a proxy army of some
15,000 well-equipped Nicaraguan counter-
revolutionaries. In real terms, the stakes in
the international dimension of the cam-
paign were higher than in the national elec-
toral campaign.
The key to the FSLN's international goal
was to convince foreign governments and
world opinion that the elections were legiti-
mate and were a sign of the Sandinistas'
pluralistic intentions for Nicaragua's future
political life. Given the obvious assumption
by the Reagan administration that the
Sandinistas were the enemy, its clear aim
and purpose was to discredit the elections
and hence the FSLN in the eyes of the world.
For both antagonists, the issue of the "role
of the opposition" became strategically

Structure of the Elections
The most striking characteristic of the elec-
toral process was its openendedness. The
opposition, construed in the widest sense,
had ample opportunity to negotiate the
terms of the elections each step of the way
from the first call in 1980 through the final
electoral law enacted in 1984 and, in fact,
well beyond. Throughout the process and
well into October, the FSLN negotiated with
all interested groups and gave way on
scores of points, although they held firm on
some presumed to be favorable to them,
such as a voting age of 16 and the right of
the military to vote. Indeed even as the elec-
toral campaign, which formally involved
seven parties, came to a close, the Nic-
araguan government convoked a formal
"National Dialogue" to discuss the nation's
political future and negotiate potential rules
of the game. The dialogue consisted of 33
groups representing all political parties, in-
cluding those not participating in the elec-
tions, trade unions, private sector groups
and church groups. The game is far from
over. No legitimate players have been ex-
cluded by the FSLN, and those who, for one
reason or another, did not like the electoral
forum have been provided an alternate


90T A MIG You HAV.E lo PUT
BAcKI VrF-Y -Af ON3 OF THo95

@ 1984, The Philadelphia Inquirer. Washington Post Writers Group. Reprinted with permission.

forum in which to continue to play.
Guillermo Mejia of the opposition Popu-
lar Social Christian Party (PPSC) stressed
that "The FSLN negotiates everything-ex-
cept political power." The FSLN obviously
has no intention of committing political sui-
cide (which it sometimes seems the Reagan
administration is demanding that it do); but
just as obviously, for whatever motives one
might wish to impute to them, the FSLN
continues to create ample political space for
its opponents to participate in the political
Representatives of the Nicaraguan gov-
ernment traveled widely throughout the

Western democracies in search of advice
and models, and received substantial tech-
nical assistance in designing the elections
from Swedish and Swiss experts. The result
was an electoral system firmly rooted in
classical liberal democratic concepts of ter-
ritorial representation and "one citizen one
vote." It envisions the selection of prelimi-
nary governmental institutions drawn
mainly from the examples of Western Euro-
pean democracies. It sets up a presidential
system with separation of powers between
the executive and the legislature, both to be
selected for six-year terms.
In the immediate context, the crucial in-

stitution will be the unicameral legislature,
which will function as a constituent assem-
bly empowered to write a constitution. The
assembly has two years to complete that
task, but the fact is that the assembly can
constitutionally shorten or lengthen the
time period and can draw on the advice of
whomever it wants to complete its task, in-
cluding that of the National Dialogue.
While the selection of the executive (pres-
ident and vice president) was based on a
straight plurality vote, the 90-member as-
sembly was chosen in a standard Euro-
pean-style proportional representation sys-
tem based on division of the country into


Daniel Ortega on election day.

nine territorial districts drawn up by popula-
tion densities. Hence voters cast two ballots;
one directly for the president and vice presi-
dent; the other for party-designated lists of
assembly candidates. Political scientists
throughout the Western world agree that
this type of electoral system tends to pro-
duce two central tendencies in any political
system: it tends to encourage a plurality of
political parties because it provides elec-
toral possibilities for a wide range of opin-
ions and interests, including those of
minorities; and it tends to produce cohesive
and disciplined political parties. If one were
interested in fostering a plurality of organ-
izationally strong political parties, this
would undoubtedly be the way to do it.
The selection of the assembly had an-
other unique twist that is most relevant in a
Latin American context. In addition to the
90 elected members of the assembly, mem-
bership was automatically accorded to the
presidential candidates of the losing parties
in the race for the executive, provided they
polled a minimal fraction of the electorate.
Minority parties then did not jeopardize a
political role for their prominent leaders in
contesting the presidency, and were in fact
all but certain to gain an extra assembly seat
simply by running a candidate for the presi-
dency. Given the nature of political ambi-
tion, this system not insignificantly provided
the means for political leaders to draw at-

tention to themselves in the presidential
race even as they were assured a continuing
forum for projecting their public image in
the assembly. The system clearly provided
ample space for both opposition opinion
and interests, as well as an outlet for the
personal ambitions of politicians.

The Issues
Few criticisms were leveled at the mechan-
ics of the electoral process; rather, they were
directed at the environment around the
elections, or what were often referred to as
the conditions facing the opposition. All of
the opposition parties complained about
the conditions of the elections. The most
severe critics, however, were the Reagan ad-
ministration, and the "Ramiro Sacasa Dem-
ocratic Coordinating Committee," popu-
larly known as the Coordinadora.
The Coordinadora was made up mainly
of four small political parties (one not le-
gally recognized), the Superior Council of
Private Enterprise (COSEP) and two small
labor federations. While the most important
party in the Coordinadora was the Social
Christian Party (PSC), the dominant force
setting policy was COSER Throughout the
elections, the positions of the Coordi-
nadora were openly supported by the hier-
archy of the Catholic Church and by the
implacably anti-Sandinista newspaper La

The Coordinadora came to stand for the
forces of electoral abstention, and
spearheaded the main attack on the legit-
imacy of the elections. The Reagan admin-
istration openly embraced it and its
designated presidential candidate, should it
have contested the elections, Arturo Cruz.
The Coordinadora and Cruz were in effect
canonized by the administration, which ran
a highly skilled and successful media cam-
paign to convince world public opinion that
they were the only substantial and legiti-
mate opposition in Nicaragua and, there-
fore, if they did not participate the elections
had to be illegitimate. The FSLN in effect
recognized the success of the US media
campaign by engaging in extensive nego-
tiations with Cruz and the Coordinadora
until the elections were but weeks away.
Since they chose not to test their strength
in the elections, there is no way to gauge
how accurate the media image of Cruz and
the Coordinadora was. There is, in my opin-
ion however, substantial evidence to call
into question that view. While he was a per-
son of some prominence in Nicaragua, Ar-
turo Cruz was not in fact the established
leader of any long-standing and tested polit-
ical organization. Analysis of the now fa-
mous Rio negotiations between Cruz and
the FSLN leads us to question whether Cruz
had any real influence over Coordinadora
policy. There is in fact good reason to be-
lieve that Cruz was but a figurehead who,
when he and designated vice presidential
candidate Adan Fletes evidenced a real de-
sire to run, was simply vetoed and undercut
by the Coordinadora and especially
Be that as it may, the opposition did raise
some compelling questions about the cli-
mate surrounding the elections. The sum of
the abstentionists' complaint was that the
FSLN was a totalitarian organization that
abused its incumbency, hamstrung the
opposition, and created a climate of fear
and intimidation designed to whip voters
into line.

The FSLN Position
Like the PRI in Mexico, the FSLN owes its
position to its historical identification with a
revolution against a hated dictatorship.
Over the past five years, the FSLN has
moved to consolidate its position by spawn-
ing a network of mass-based organizations
and, in particular, the neighborhood-
focused Committees for the Defense of
Sandinismo (CDS). In addition, it has mo-
nopoly control over the police and military.
While it exercises substantial control over
the civilian bureaucratic apparatus, non-
Sandinistas as well as anti-Sandinistas have
positions in numerous government agen-
cies. Finally, the FSLN has a commanding
position in the media through control of the
two television stations, 16 of 39 radio sta-
Continued on page 42


Pilgrimages to Managua

By Forrest D. Colburn

George Ball once complained that while he
was in the State Department, a monthly call
in the middle of the night would awaken him
telling of a coup in some distant capital with
a name like a typographical error. "Man-
agua, Nicaragua" could have dazed Ball at 2
a.m. However, the guerrillas who toppled
the Somoza dynasty and installed them-
selves as the rulingcomandantes, have not
only roused Ronald Reagan's ire and made
Nicaragua the darling of the international
left, but have also put Managua onthe map.
The city may not sound any less like a typo-
graphical error, but its location is now well
Everyone except the rich and the boring
is visiting the city-for a fact-finding tour,
advice, a pilgrimage; to give away someone
else's money; to report, spy scold, show
sympathy or solidarity. A few people may
even come for a look around. There are
throngs of idle young people from every-
where. Visitors range from the pope, to the
late Maurice Bishop, to Allen Ginsburg, to
the head of the Italian Communist Party.
Even the South Yemen- defense minister,
Brigadier. General Soch- Mushleh Kassim,
has stopped by for consultations. Iran has
established an embassy, as has Mongolia
(though the Mongolian ambassador is "not
in residence"). Of course there are constant
visits from Reagan's and Castro's mes-
sengers. The CIA and KGB are presumably
in town.
What awaits these committed travelers is
perhaps the strangest city in the world
Managua was almost completely destroyed
during the earthquake of 1972. In the heart
of the city. only the country's single sky-
scraper and the garish, pyramid-shaped In-
ter-Continental Hotel survived intact. The
leveled city was bulldozed clean except for
those two buildings, a handful of others
considered repairable, and scattered con-
crete shells. Somoza and his cronies stole
most of the foreign aid intended for Man-
agua's rebuilding, but the city rebuilt itself
anyway. The fault-ridden downtown area
was off.limits. so new construction crowded
around the edge of the old city. The archi-
tecture is slum Los Angeles shopping cen-
ter at best, and cardboard clap at worst.
The. center of Managua looks as if.it were
bombed..Streets crisscross vacantlots. The
panorama is broken only by the occasional
gutted structure, which is likely to flaunt a
clothesline, since the poor have found the
concrete skeletons preferable, to leaky

.ForrestD. Colburn-teaches political science at
Florida International University.

shacks. In the middle of it all stands a shiny
modern skyscraper and the adjacent new
Casa de Gobierno. Encircling the nearly
deserted center of the city is the sprawling
maze of the new Managua, shantytowns
checkered with luxurious neighborhoods.
For the most part there are no street names,
so mail is delivered by the proximity of the
addressee to a restaurant, a big tree, a
burned building, or whatever else catches
the eye.-
While there is little beauty in Managua,
the surrounding countryside is gorgeous.
The city borders on a large lake. Lake Man-
agua (unfortunately polluted); within view
are two volcanos; lush vegetation is every-
where, bathed by warm rains. Nearby
beaches are lovely and all but deserted.
Light breezes and Lake Managua give the
city and its environs a pleasant climate for
all but a couple months of the year.
Nicaragua's abrupt swing from feudalism
and deification of everything American to
soc ialism. and at least official glorification of
Cuba, has resulted in an amusing clash of
cultures readily apparent in Managua. A
speech by Comandante Daniel Ortega
denouncing yankee imperialism was
broadcast over the government-controlled
television, only to be followed by Simon and
Garfunkel "Live inConcert." Bookstores are
piled high with Lenin's books and Soviet
magazines, while even government radio
stations blare Donna Summer and Michael
Jackson. Bulgarian conserves compete
with Quaker Oats on supermarket shelves.
When the city's bus drivers were given a
choice of uniforms, they chose blue jeans.
Of course, some things do not change, at
least not in any meaningful way. The lottery
that continues to sap the income of the poor
is now called the people's lottery. Prostitu-
tion persists. Managua is still no place to.get
anything done quickly or efficiently. Above
all, the poor are still there. The city's popula-
tion continues to swell with peasants fleeing
rural-misery and seeking- "to wear nice
pants and go to the movies." Groups- of
migrants form neighborhoods by erecting
shacks overnight on vacant land, earning
them the nickname "parachutists."
For those with money, especially dollars.
the city has its pleasures.. Since dollars,. or
-green .parrots" in the vernacular, can be
exchanged for-twenty times their official
value, foreigners-even. young back-
packers-can live like the local "bour-
geoisie" whose demise all have come to
celebrate. Russians and East Europeans/re-
portedlyhave also succumbed to the temp-
tation of exchanging dollars on the -black

market. There is not much to buy in Man-
agua. but a good meal can be found and
discotheques seree good rum.
Managua's real tourist attraction, of
course, is the Nicaraguan:-revolution. Many
visitors seem disappointed that, there is
nothing concrete to see, no political equiv-
alent of the Grand Canyon. Conversations
with the masses suggest, though, that the
beauty of the revolution is that the police are
no longer thugs and thieves in uniforms.
The head of the nation's police, who was
arrested and tortured by the previous re-
gime. has enrolled his officers in courtesy
classes. The ugly side of the revolution is
that the economy is in a crisis. There are
shortages of everything. from-buttoos to
cotton harvesters. The twowords most used .
in Nicaragua today-are: no -hay (there's -'
none'. The counterrevolution .has further
aggravated economic difficulties.
Nicaragua's publicity and the ensuirig
throng of visitors are pressed into helping
resolve the localshortage of dollars. Before
visitors even get to-the airport migration
booths, they are required to exchange
$60.00 at a rate that fails to cover cab fare-to
the city. Foreign governments and interna-
tional organizations have provided gener-
ous support, which has actually increased -
since President Reagan stopped US aid. .
The annual value of foreign assistance'
exceeds the value of exports by a hefty
margin. The varying guises of such as-
sistance-and the accompanying techni-
cians-add to Managua's charm. For
example, so many countries have donated
ambulances that no tv.o seem to have the
same siren.
Most surprising. though. is the lack of
interest most Nicaraguans display for poli-
tics. Even members of the militias-say little.
Aside from an occasional government-
organized demonstration; attended prii--:,
cipally by public employees and students,
Managua is quiet. No one wants a war; Nic-
araguans are more interested in their day-
to-day affairs than in revolutionary change.
Officially Americans are known as the "en.
emies of humanity" which at least.sounds
nicer than the Sandinistas' nickname for
GuatemalahB. .'assassins5:6f the people'),
but, .Ncaraguans are Friendly to all, iiclud-
ing Armricans Indeed,it is.bard to.fiin a.
city where.peoplef are as polite arid kid.-'
Pilgrimis invariably see wat tfey:wat to -
see. For the visitor with-no idelogical.bag----'-
gage, Managua offers- a wealth of-.nsights
into the attractions, complexity and contra- :
dictions of revolution in-the Third World.
And. the city is not likely to be- forgotten. d


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Latin American and Caribbean Center

Passion and Compassion

The Conflict in Central America

By Irving Louis Horowitz

Salvadoran soldiers on lookout for leftist guerrillas.

Central America has acquired a meta-
physical status, a significance quite
beyond the material value of what
formerly were contemptuously dismissed
as "banana republics." At a pedestrian level,
the great majority of Americans have a col-
lection of beliefs and persuasions about the
region that do not quite form a consistent
pattern. There is a high statistical consen-
sus that Castros Cuba is a chief source of
the troubles in the area, but there is no
Irving Louis Horowitz is Hannah Arendt pro-
fessor of sociology and political science at
Rutgers University, and editor in chief of Trans-
action/SOCIETY He is the editor of Cuban
Communism and author of Beyond Empire and

corresponding belief that such forms of de-
stabilization are effective elsewhere. There is
even less consensus that Central America is
worth North American military involve-
ment. North Americans want democracy
and oppose dictatorship, but after Vietnam
they also want peace and oppose interven-
tion. Given such a dichotomy of beliefs, for-
mulating general policy guidelines for the
United States with respect to Central Ameri-
can issues remains a formidable task.
Central America represents an integrated
regional entity, and not simply a North
American invention. Despite variations in
gross national product, the region has key
commonalities: single-crop economies ex-
porting primary commodities such as ba-

,., x ji

nanas, coffee, sugar and cotton; mining
products with a preponderance of gold; a
shared dependence upon imported oil for
all, if not most, energy requirements; and,
with the exception of Nicaragua, a heavy
reliance on the United States for manufac-
tured and agricultural goods alike-in
short, the classic Third World pattern of
modernization without industrialization.
The preponderant role of the United States
has been recently heightened with the Car-
ibbean Basin Initiative and the Democracy,
Peace and Development Initiative Act. The
former is designed to encourage private
economic investment by US businesses
and the elimination of US customs duties
on virtually all basin exports. The newer


Kissinger Commission approach is to pro-
vide a much greater amount of government
assistance along with additional military aid
to promote economic growth and social
equity. But however one slices the Central
American pie, the overall pervasiveness of
the United States is beyond question.
At the policy level, the meaning of Central
America is an external investiture. For years,
the United States has simply taken for
granted a set of common bilateral relation-
ships that required little attention. It did not
worry much about social systems in Central
America, much less provide initiatives for
social reform there. It is not that the US was
particularly good or particularly evil in its
practices; it was indifferent. Indeed, as Hans
Kohn once said about Americans in gen-
eral, they make terrible imperialists, rarely
capable of functioning ably at what their
enemies claim they do so well: exploit oth-
ers. The democratic persuasion has made it
difficult for the United States to operate in a
colonial climate overseas, while it takes for
granted an anti-colonial mentality at home.
There is no Churchillian figure in American
presidential politics. Even archetypes like
Theodore Roosevelt, often cited as having
imperial orientations, upon close inspec-
tion had little more than a social welfare
imagination. As a consequence, ideologues
who write about American imperialism are

hard put to find appropriate figures to cite in
order to make their case. For better or
worse, the North American system breeds a
social welfare model that extends to foreign
sovereigns in Central America no less than
to domestic states in the union.

Anti-colonial Colonialism
The major thrust of American policy in Cen-
tral America, even when its political
behavior was or is admittedly shabby, is
rarely marked by a conscious colonial effort
of integration into home markets. Colonial-
ism has most often been an accident, a by-
product of economic unevenness rather
than an ideology of government. This has
led to a single-minded dedication of many
centrist and leftist elements in Central
America toward the elimination of US
power over the "banana republics." Histor-
ical weakness was turned into ideological
purpose. The United States as a policy-
making unit was unprepared for a Central
America worn weary by economic de-
nomination and social disparities of enor-
mous sorts.
There is a real question whether the
United States can think regionally. Clearly it
can think globally. But in regional terms, the
US behavior toward Central America is less
touched by a sphere-of-influence doctrine
than by an expansion of liberal democracy

doctrine. Hence, it tends to measure suc-
cess in electoral rather than systemic terms.
This is quite different from the Soviet Union,
which clearly operates from within the
Brezhnev Doctrine, the belief that the East-
ern European world is forever doomed to be
part of the Soviet orbit whatever the inclina-
tions of its people. Eastern Europe is char-
acterized by sporadic uprisings, not
guerrilla movements. The dates are man-
ifest and precise: Germany in 1953, Hun-
gary in 1956, Czechoslovakia in 1968,
Poland in 1979. Clearly then, the Soviet
Union emphasizes a policy of monolithic
solidarity, reinforced by its armed forces if
the local communist parties are unable to
rule. Its concerns for the niceties of public
opinion at home or democracy abroad are
virtually nonexistent.
The United States, because of the econ-
omy-centeredness of its policies, can live
with a wide variety of social systems and
political processes in Central America.
From the Good Neighbor Policy in the
1930s to the Caribbean Partners Policy of
the 1980s, the idea of a monolithic policy
has been abandoned in favor of a pluralistic
model of nonalignment. The United States
insists only upon a military-strategic dis-
tancing from the Soviet orbit (that is the
meaning of the Cuban missile crisis of
1962). It does not insist upon systemic po-

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litical integration into a North American
sphere. This distinction is clearly at radical
variance with Soviet policy in Eastern Eu-
rope. Thus, even if we speak of equivalen-
cies between the major global powers of
goals and purposes in sphere-of-influence
terms, this concept only serves to mask fun-
damental differences in political behavior.
What goes on within the two peripheral
spheres of Central America and Eastern Eu-
rope thereby reflects the profoundly differ-
ent nature of the cosmopolitan regimes.
Differing attitudes toward democracy and
dictatorship in the United States and the
Soviet Union lead to a wide disparity in the
functioning of nations in the periphery.
There is a sharp decline in the willingness
of Central American nations to function as
pure satellites in relation to the United
States. This is as true for Republican Party
administrations as it was for past Demo-
cratic Party administrations. There is no
generalized discernible sphere-of-influence
doctrine operational in Central America be-
yond nonalignment with Soviet global inter-
ests. What the United States does impose
are bilateral relationships and staunchly
anti-communist postures. The United
States thus has a peculiar imbalance: anti-
colonial postures toward Eastern Europe
and a colonial set of possessions in the
name of anti-colonialism in Central Amer-
ica. This paradox is not accidental, but a
direct consequence of democracy as an in-
strument of US policy. The level of military
expenditure in Latin America in long-range
terms is downhill, with a correspondingly
steep incline in direct economic aid. This
too expresses an extreme disparity between
a functioning reality and an ideological
position within Central America.
The dialogue in North America on the
question of Central America is not between
a left wing and a right wing. I am hard put to
see any serious groups in the United States
(with the possible exception of Jesse Helms'
tacit support for El Salvador's D'Aubuisson)
defending any right-wing regime in Central
America. Even conservative administra-
tions treat such regimes as embarrass-
ments rather than assets. US silence on
Chile's Pinochet is characteristic. The argu-
ment at the policy level is between left and
center rather than left and right. More accu-
rately, there is a dialogue between egal-
itarian and libertarian models. This drive for
a centrist position cuts to the heart of the
internal North American dialogue. Needless
to say, this also adds to confusion on Ameri-
can aims overseas.

Passionate and Compassionate
Two pamphlets which recently appeared,
one by Penny Lernoux on Fear and Hope:
Toward Political Democracy in Central
America, the other by Edward Gonzalez and
Brian Jenkins on U.S. Policy for Central

America, illustrate sharply different visions
of past and future. For Lernoux the key
questions are land redistribution, political
revolution and economic equality for the
masses, and correspondingly, the final ex-
pulsion of foreign influences from North
America. In the end, Lernoux poses the
question of democratic socialism displac-
ing feudal capitalism. On the other hand,
the Gonzalez-Jenkins essay presents no ar-
gument in defense of right-wing dictator-
ship. Rather, it provides arguments in
defense of personal liberties, free press, free
elections, rational land distribution, a larger
private-sector stake-in short, a linkage of
Central American needs with US values.
This is an argument that goes back to the
difference between the American revolution
of 1776 and the French revolution of 1789.
In her work On Revolution, Hannah Arendt
called attention to this distinction between
revolutions of passion versus revolutions of
compassion. Psychological modes of talk-
ing about politics are difficult to confirm,
but such modes are at the heart of the Cen-
tral American metaphysic. The prototypical
passionate revolution took place in Cuba,
versus the compassionate revolution of
Costa Rica. If there are present-day heroes
of the Central American compassionate
style, they would be Luis Alberto Monge
and his mentor, Jose Figueres Ferrer. To
examine them is to be in the presence once
again of the federalists. The arguments be-
tween Fidel Castro and Luis Monge capti-
vate, not because North Americans really
give much concern to Central American
politics, but because they represent, in the
inner history of Central America, the general
questions of passion and compassion, pri-
vate and public happiness in the political
Some revolutions are built on the pre-
sumption that retribution is endemic to
egalitarianism; that the only way a full and
fair hearing of the Central American case
will be made is through the complete expul-
sion and destruction of the enemies of the
people. One gets the impression, on the
other hand, that there is a high level of com-
passion in regimes like those of Costa Rica,
Honduras and Venezuela (which for these
purposes, is very much part of the Carib-
bean). The theme is struckthat compassion
for the poor, compassion for historic condi-
tions that have to be righted, can be effec-
tive as a mobilizing device. Recent
utterances by papal authorities in opposing
liberation theology indicate just how broad
based this distinction between passionate
and compassionate styles has become in
the Caribbean and Latin America.

Ideological Turf
The struggle that is now going on in Central
America has become metaphysical. It joins
the struggle over the two Germanies and
Continued on page 45




NO 74

Director: Alberto Koschuetzke
Jefe de Redacci6n: Daniel Gonzalez V.

L6pez: Bolivia: aQu6 Hacer en Democracia?;
Raimundo Valenzuela de la Fuente: Chile: 11
Afios de Estado sin Derecho; Soledad Loaeza:
Mexico: En Busca del Consenso Perdido.

Ricardo Ndiiez: La Realidad Escindida; Eu-
genio Dfaz-Marcela Noo: Partidos Politicos y
Sindicatos: Competencia o Solidaridad?; Er-
nesto Tapia: Capacitaci6n Policia y Formaci6n
de Cuadros; Jose Oviedo: La Estabilidad del
Equilibrio Inestable; Octavio Rodriguez Ara-
ujo; Binomio Perfecto: Gobierno y Partido;
Americo Martin: De la Ideologia a la Politica;
Manuel Urriza: (Movimiento o Partido?;
Ratil Rivadeneira Prada: Partidos Politicos,
Partidos Taxi y Partidos Fantasma. (I Parte;
Hernando Gomez Buendia: Lo Patol6gico y
lo Democratico del Clientelismo.

Trabil Nani-Muchos Problemas. aQue Pasa
con los Misquitos?; Gyorgy Kerekes: Experi-
mentar es Vivir...El Socialismo en Hungria;
Enrique Guinsberg: La Formaci6n del
"Hombre Necesario: y los Medios; Federico
Fasano: Las Dos Caras de la Censura; Daniel
Divinsky: Pequefias Causas, Grandes Prob-
lemas. Algunas Dificultades para Editar la Ver-
dad; La Mujer en la Ciencia; Willy Brandt:
Desarrollo, Deuda y Desarme. Los Grandes
Retos para la Paz.


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Central American Sancocho

Recent Scholarship on an Area in Crisis

Reviewed by Marvin Alisky

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

Political Change in Central America:
Internal and External Dimensions, Wolf
Grabendorff, H. W. Krumwiede and Jorg
Todt, eds. 312 p. Westview Press, Boulder,
1984. $16.50.

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

The Politics of Intervention: The United
States in Central America, Roger
Burbach and Patricia Flynn, eds. 255 p.
Monthly Review Press, New York, 1984.
$10.00 (paper).

Guerrilla warfare has raged in El Salvador
since 1981 and in Nicaragua since 1982.
Economic problems inhibit the growth of
representative government, and Central
America's political systems remain in a
state of flux. Rivals each contend they speak
for rank-and-file citizens. Domestic politics
have become entwined with international
factors. Indeed, Cold War confrontation has
become clear.
Meanwhile, the literature about Central
America continues to grow. Some of it il-
luminates the region, but some merely gen-
erates heat. For example, few of the books
on Central America address these ques-
tions: Do Central American political pat-
terns contradict or confirm previous
theoretical assumptions of the social sci-
ences? Which of the competing general the-
ories of revolution seems most persuasive if
applied to Central America? Of ten different
books on the region this reviewer has read

Marvin Alisky teaches political science at Ari-
zona State University and writes a monthly
nationally syndicated column on Latin

in recent months, none-including the four
discussed below-deals with the factor of
foreign debt. None addresses the problem
of governments, right or left, borrowing far
beyond their means to repay, far beyond
their annual gross national product.
Four of the volumes published in 1984
attempt to put the international and national
confrontations in Central America into per-
spective. Two of them-books edited by
Ropp and Morris and by Grabendorff,
Krumwiede and Todt-succeed in captur-
ing scholarly perspective; two of them-the
Schulz-Graham and Burbach-Flynn
books-do not.

Some Balance
The Ropp and Morris volume, Central
America: Crisis and Adaptation, can give
students some balanced appreciation of
Central America's politics and public-life
crises. The editors provide an overview, re-
capitulating struggles for reform from the
1930s through the 1950s, and calling for
analyses of the struggles of the 1970s and
1980s. They and four other social scientists
discuss specific countries.
Writing on Nicaragua, the late Steven
Gorman stressed that its population con-
centration in the lowlands marks a natural
land passage between oceans, which
brought early contact with foreigners. These
contacts with representatives of commerce
may have given Nicaragua a more institu-
tionalized opposition to US and European
shipping interests than other Central Ameri-
can republics, except for Panama.
Gorman pointed out that the Sandinista
Directorate formulates policy for the ruling
junta and not the other way around. He also
discussed auxiliary political arms of the
Sandinista regime, such as the Nicaraguan
Woman's Association and the Asociaci6n
de Niflos de Nicaragua, a Sandinista youth
organization. He failed to mention, however,
the Sandinista Defense Committees, pat-
terned after Cuba's Committees for the De-
fense of the Revolution, or the role being
played by Cuban teachers in adult literacy
campaigns. For that perspective, one has to
read Thomas P Anderson's Central Ameri-
can Politics, the best single reference on the

subject today in terms of presenting both
positive and negative facts about the
Tommie Sue Montgomery tackles El Sal-
vador, going back to 1930 for the roots of
revolution and zeroing in on large landlords.
With historical accuracy she chronicles the
politics of the oligarchy and the activities of
the Communist Party of El Salvador in the
1930 election campaign. She goes on to
cite the reforms in the 1950s of President
Oscar Osorio, who built public works and
encouraged industrial development and ag-
ricultural diversity, within a developmental-
ist model, but did not basically improve the
lot of the working class.
Montgomery follows the growth of the
Christian Democratic Party (PDC) from its
founding in 1960 to its current position un-
der the leadership of Jose Duarte, recaps
the recent splits and positions on policy
within the Catholic Church hierarchy, and
describes the activities of the late Salvador
Cayetano Carpio, who in 1970 resigned as
secretary general of the Salvadoran Com-
munist Party to go underground as a terror-
ist and promote what today are the
associated guerrilla fronts. She also suc-
cinctly traces pressures leading to the split
in the Revolutionary Army of the People
(ERP) in 1975. Founded in 1972 by young
communists with radical youth from the
middle class, it broke into two groups, one
arguing for a large guerrilla army bent on
gaining power through warfare, and a rival
group urging acquisition of power through
political activity.
Guatemala is covered by Julio
Castellanos Cambranes, an exile from
Guatemala working at the Latin American
Studies Institute in Sweden. His theoretical
Marxist overtones reflect his doctoral stud-
ies in Leipzig, East Germany. He recaps the
political history of Guatemala from Spanish
colonial times to the present, pointing out
that urban officials long ago controlled rural
Indians with a centralized government and
land system. The liberals took power in
1871 and kept their party in office until
1944. During World War II, the Guatemalan
government declared war on Hitler,
rounded up Nazi agents, and expropriated


coffee plantations belonging to Germans
sympathetic to the Third Reich. Castellanos
characterizes the six-year presidency of
Juan Jose Arevalo (1945-1951) as "moder-
ate reformism," although Arevalo preferred
the term "socialist reforms." He classifies
Jacobo Arbenz as vaguely progressive, al-
though Arbenz himself insisted on being
called a socialist.
Unfortunately, Castellanos telescopes the
1960s, 1970s, and early 1980s into three
pages, and fails to set objective standards
for measuring the causes of major political
crises in the past two or three decades. He
uses the conventional stereotype of military
government for a theoretical model, but
never mentions a significant series of gov-
ernment expropriations of the electric
power companies in the 1960s and
1970s-uncharacteristic actions for such a
government. He also suggests that the
Cuban revolution encouraged Guatemalan
leftists to renew guerrilla warfare, which had
been held back by "prejudices which the
radicalized urban middle class felt toward
the Indian peasantry."
John Booth gives a balanced picture of
democratic Costa Rica, with its competitive
political parties, incumbents losing to chal-
lengers periodically, and peaceful changes
in leadership through honest elections.
Costa Rica abounds in politicized interest
groups, and Booth's section on pressure
groups and decision making is especially
useful. He points out that Costa Rica's vul-
nerable economic situation stems in part
from its need to import oil. He also reminds
us that Costa Ricans, who helped the Sand-
inistas gain power and then saw the govern-
ment move far to the left, are uncomfortable
with Nicaragua's large army as a neighbor.
In discussing Honduras, James Morris
stresses the rural pattern of its population
and the low-key political activity of the
peasants. Although two-thirds of the Hon-
durans work in agriculture, three-fourths of
the country's export income stems from
commercial agribusiness operations. He
also compactly summarizes Honduras's
political history, looking at the two large
traditional parties, their attempts at mod-
ernization, and the pressures from guerrilla

warfare in neighboring Nicaragua and El
Salvador. Co-editor Steve Ropp deals with
Panama, describing the ability of General
Torrijos and his national guard to mix con-
ciliation with strong-arm tactics, thus rec-
onciling various interest groups and
governing successfully.


A European-Latin American
Grabendorff, Krumwiede and Todt, all West
Germans, assembled essays by a group of
European, Latin American and US scholars
attuned to Central America. The projectwas
Continued on page 46


he art and artifacts of St. Vincent do
not fall into prescribed categories;
they are neither folk nor primitive nor
modern, and there are threads linking them
to both Africa and the Western world. Al-
though not widely known beyond the is-
land's shores, they are an important aspect
of national life, reflecting the rich and di-
verse heritage islanders are striving to
This heritage stems from pre-Christian-
era South American natives, African slaves
from the Bight of Benin, French settlers
from St. Lucia and, finally, British colo-
nizers. The British imposed their own aes-
thetics and sought to erase reminders of
African spiritual life. As a result, the colo-
nized people emulated Western culture and
concepts of art. Nevertheless, cultural ex-
pressions from Africa-such as thatched
houses, plaited hairstyles and drums-re-
mained a continuous part of the environ-
j ment, forming the background for the
recent effort to recover African cultural
A small island (18 miles long and 11
miles wide) of lush tropical foliage, St. Vin-
cent is located at the lower end of the wind-
ward chain of Caribbean islands. Its interior
mountains are covered with rich forests of
mahogany, cedar, pitch pine, teak and
whitewood. Because of Soufriere, an active
volcano which last erupted in 1979, and the
island's rough interior terrain, most of the
110,000 people live on the coasts of the
southern two-thirds of the island. Two well-
paved roads, meeting in the capital of
Kingstown, link these coastal settlements.
Ninety percent of the population is of Af-
rican descent. Unemployment is 60 per-
cent, and the per capital income is $450 a
year. The major airport on the island will not
accommodate jumbo jets, and thus the
tourist industry lags. Growth in tourism is
looked upon favorably by the Vincentians
and would benefit artists by providing a
wider market for their goods. Some artists
are already selling their work to tourists
through shops located in Kingstown or in

Andrea E. Leland is a visual artist working in

Gym shoe used as hinge. Chicago.


Collages, Carvings and Quilts

The Visual Arts of St. Vincent

By Andrea E. Leland

the Grenadines, a chain of smaller islands
which attract tourists to their white beaches,
scrub-covered hills and chains of coral reefs.
There was no place for art on St. Vincent
during the 18th and 19th centuries. For the
whites, home was England; children were
sent there to be educated, and adults looked
to England for fashion, literature, art and
music. Slaves could talk and sing while
working in the fields, but they had no time
for the wood carving or textile designing
they had known in Africa. The English
would not tolerate non-Christian religious
practices such as idol carving, nor would
they allow slaves in their Christian churches.
They did permit singing, dancing and
drum playing on Sundays. An interesting
byproduct of this attitude is the present Vin-
centian custom of "Nine Mornings." From 2
until 6 AM on the nine mornings preceding
Christmas day, Vincentians celebrate by
beating drums, singing and dancing in the
streets of Kingstown.
Though not allowed to continue making
the objects familiar to them, the men were
trained in skills necessary to maintain daily
life: tailoring, carpentry, blacksmithing, ma-
sonry and boat building. Female slaves gar-
dened, made quilts, and hooked rugs-
accepted European domestic practices.
These activities still exist. As with Nine
Mornings, they reflect an aesthetic derived
from a distant past.
Traces of pre-Columbian Indian life can
also be seen on St. Vincent today. Baskets
made by the Caribs for preparing the cas-
sava plant are similar to those used by Indi-
ans still living near the Orinoco River in
South America. Ancient carved stone fig-
ures and petroglyphs are scattered about
the island. A number of contemporary ar-
tisans use symbols from these petroglyphs
in their designs. Modern artists also look to
Africa and the Western world for sources of
ideas which they can interpret in their own
Some artists use discarded or scrap ma-
terials to make objects for sale. Even is-
landers who do not consider themselves to
have artistic ability assemble patchwork
walls and quilts, hook scrap rugs, and fash-
ion their own toys and tools. Most objects

appear to have been created spon-
taneously; they function efficiently and also
have a strong visual impact. How art is pro-
duced on the island-and what is consid-
ered art-is influenced by its geographical
setting, historical pressures and cultural

Using wood as an element of collage is very
common on St. Vincent. Houses, outer
buildings such as kitchens and chicken
coops, drums, tools, furniture, vehicles and
toys are just a few of the objects made of
lumber or scrap wood. Sometimes rem-
nants of the culture are collaged right on to
a wall, as the use of a gym shoe as a hinge-
one part of the shoe nailed to the stationary
wall and the other part nailed to the movable
Manufactured and imported toys are few
and expensive, so children often make their
own. An empty soda tin, using a wire as an
axle and fastened to two vertical sticks,
makes a wonderfully noisy push toy. Low-
lying go-carts, scooters and wagons are
constructed from tree branches, scrap
wood and abandoned carriage wheels.
Older youths construct carts not only for
fun but also to earn a few dollars transport-
ing goods. Each object is carefully con-
structed and well designed, exhibiting a
strong sense of imagination.
With the rise of black consciousness in
the 1970s and the Rastafari search for Af-
rican roots, wood carving has been revived
as a popular means of expression. Making
drums by hollowing out logs and carving
their surfaces is a skill brought from Africa,
as is the carving of walking sticks, three-
dimensional figures and relief designs. His-
torically, African carvings depicted the spirit
world and functioned as an integral part of
the all-pervasive spiritual life. Frequently
the spirits portrayed were said to dwell
within the carving itself. The wood carvings
of St. Vincent are meant to be appreciated
as art objects and are not used in associa-
tion with religious ceremonies; artists and
consumers alike consider that notion back-
ward and uncivilized.
David K-oala, a wood-carver from Kenya

and a member of the Akumba wood carv-
ing society for 16 years, has been instru-
mental in bridging the gap between the
contemporary carvers of Africa and those of
St. Vincent. He spends six hours or more a
day fashioning graceful plains animals,
Masai warriors and other figures out of local
mahogany. Working from a large album
filled with photos of his past creations and of
African animals, he carves many versions of
the same figure, such repetition being
deeply rooted in the history of African wood
sculpture. His style reflects the slender,
elongated, graceful shapes typical of East
African Akumba work. K-oala demands
perfection from himself and from those he
By selling his carvings, teaching a few
students, and doing some subsistence
farming, K-oala has managed to earn a
modest living. His most significant contri-
bution has been the introduction of the
adze, a traditional African wood-carving
tool. The adze is hand made, using rhino
skins as the handle into which heavy-gauge
steel has been implanted. The steel is ham-
mered into a blade and sharpened at the
outside edge. Adzes come in various sizes
and are used from the initial rough stages of
carving to the final finishing stage. Before
its introduction, carvers used pen knives or
store-bought tools. With the adze, K-oala
was able to pass along the finer techniques
of wood carving.
Houlsey Norton, one of K-oala's most avid
students, lived in England. He is a prime
example of the cultural mix that is the
heritage of St. Vincent. He can carve with
equal facility Masai women with elaborately
plaited hairstyles or weightlifters in yoga
positions. Two pieces in particular reflect
his culture. A parrot, carved in relief on a
mahogany disc, is native to St. Vincent; one
can see such birds while hiking to Soufriere
volcano. A carving of a woman carrying
bananas on her head is a beautiful and sen-
sitive depiction of a figure one sees de-
scending from the fields, bearing the
expression of endurance so typical of the
hard-working women of St. Vincent.
Unlike some of the other carvers, Mac-
Gregor Daniel chooses to depict what his


mind's eye sees, rather than to recreate a
familiar image. His work is thus more per-
sonal and abstract. One piece, a rec-
tangular relief carving, shows waves
surrounding a two-headed snake. The
snake forms a heart-like configuration that
encloses and protects a human-like house
within. A heart balancing on the tip of the
house's angular roof serves as a head. The
legs represent the stilts supporting many
wooden houses on St. Vincent. Also on the
carving is a fish lying next to a hollowed-out
pond. The work was done with a chisel and
sanded minimally; it is a truly personal ar-
tistic statement.

Textile making has long been an important
craft on St. Vincent. The Africans had a rich
history of weaving and decorating textiles,
but these traditional techniques were re-
placed by British knitting, crocheting,
smocking, embroidering and rug hooking.
Examples of textile arts are found in almost
every home. Sideboards and chairs are
adorned with crocheted doilies; tables and
counters proudly display embroidered
cloths and towels. Although the work is tra-
ditionally done by women, hand-knit and
crocheted items such as hats and belts are
worn and appreciated by both sexes. Men
and women sympathetic to the Rastafari
movement express their beliefs by wearing
items knitted in the symbolic colors of red,
green, gold and black.
Less visible but equally interesting are the
hand-made quilts. Made exclusively for per-
sonal use at home, they are found outside
only after laundering, when they are laid on
a pile of rocks or bush to dry. The women
who sew the quilts from scraps of discarded
clothing learned their skills from older fam-
ily members. Although Vincentian quilts are
derived from a European textile form, they
have more of a stylistic affinity to the woven
African strip textiles. European quilts ex-
hibit a well-disciplined geometric symme-
try and are constructed of several units,
each having pieces exactly the same size
and color as the next. The quilts of St. Vin-
cent are made of off-sized patches sewn into
long strips, the strips then sewn together to
form the quilt. They have an apparently ran-
dom, yet balanced, placement of colored
patches, each varying in size.
Patchwork design is carried over into
hooked rugs. Scraps of fabric are hooked
through discarded burlap or nylon sugar
bags with the aid of a tool fashioned from
the stem of a coconut. The craftwoman de-
cides whether the scrap is to be tied, left as
is, or pushed through the support another
time. Although the techniques of rug hook-
ing are essentially the same on St. Vincent
as in Europe, the Vincentian rugs differ
greatly in design. Early European hooked
rugs depicted animals, houses or flowers, all
usually encased in a floral border. Vincen-

tian rugs are geometric or abstract in de-
sign. Some are made of varying sizes of
squares and lines; others have scraps of
color hooked in an overall helter-skelter
The work of textile artist Olive Creese is
unusual. Now in her 50s, Creese has been
interested in impressionistic painting since
she was a school girl. Encouraged by her
teachers to continue painting, she took up
rug hooking because canvas was too costly
and paint difficult to obtain, while rug-hook-
ing materials were readily available and
free. Creese refers to her work as painting.
She begins by drawing an image on a bur-

Color in the Caribbean is
bright, vibrant and lush, a
forceful ingredient in the
natural surroundings.

lap bag. It might be a Barroulie fishing
scene as viewed from her kitchen window,
or perhaps her favorite cocoa tree just out-
side her back door. Sometimes the image is
taken from a postcard photo of St. Vincent,
or from an impressionistic painting re-
produced in the art book she owns. The
colored scraps are cut and hooked into the
burlap rectangle. Creese's colors are deep,
rich and carefully thought out.

Color in the Caribbean is bright, vibrant and
lush, a forceful ingredient in the natural sur-
roundings. Succulent greens in many varia-
tions combine and contrast with the aqua
sea and baby blue sky. Sunset provides a
theater for blues, pinks and oranges some-
times masked by fiery clouds. Sunlight is
especially bright and lends a particular bril-
liance to the undersea world of tropical fish
and coral formations.
Vincentians naturally choose colors from
this context in painting their houses, boats,
vehicles and other objects, making many
surfaces bright and highly charged. One
house is shocking pink with blue shutters.
Houses, as well as fishing boats, are com-
binations of green, brown, purple and red-
colors similar to those found on the local
squirrel fish. Some color choices have polit-
ical overtones. Red, green and gold, the col-
ors of the flag, appear frequently. With the
addition of black, the color scheme repre-
sents the countercultural movement of the
Rastafari. Surfaces are sometimes painted
to enhance structural elements, such as an
aqua house with brown and white door
frames and shutters. A painted stone wall
may have the stones done in one or several
colors and the cement grouting inma highly
contrasting color, creating a dramatic,

eclectic effect.
Assuming there is cash on hand to buy
the paint, structures and objects are re-
painted around Christmas eachyear. People
say color choices depend on what is avail-
able and cheap. Another view, expressed by
a Vincentian artist, is that people choose
colors that others will notice, colors that will
reach up and grab them, and not let the
viewer remain passive. Perhaps the use of
color is a celebration of life's intensity, or of
the living color actually seen in the sur-
rounding environment.
While many of the island's painters do not
consider themselves "artists," there are oth-
ers deserving of the characterization. One
of these is Lennox "Dinks" Johnson, who
paints in the style of photorealism, although
he has never heard of the movement. He
works almost exclusively from photo-
graphs, accurately reproducing colors as
well as figures or scenes. Patrick Drayton's
style most closely approximates the notion
of "naive" art, with scenes of local women
carrying bananas, harbors, domesticated
animals or parrots. He uses local house
paint instead of imported oil or acrylic, and
paints on masonite or wood, using tree
branches for frames. His colors are bright
and primary; images are clear, well defined
and painterly.
Ossie Constance paints almost ex-
clusively in black, white and grey. He does
dramatic portraits taken from the album
covers of Bob Marley records, landscapes
which reflect scenes of what he imagines
Canada to look like, or perhaps Noah's ark.
MacGregor Daniel, the wood-carver, also
draws and paints, usually doing land-
scapes, but with a personalized approach.
His landscapes are active, with agitated fig-
ures, almost as if a storm is about to break.
Color choice, composition, and abrupt and
unrefined stroking of the crayon all contrib-
ute to this effect of nature in turmoil.

Two distinct influences are seen in the
woodworking, textiles and painting of St.
Vincent: the photograph and the mar-
ketplace. Several artists work directly from
photographs and try to reproduce the im-
age precisely. Magazines from Trinidad, Af-
rica, England and America serve as art
books, their pictures providing sources of
inspiration or technical reference. There are
no art schools on the island and little com-
munication between artists. The library has
only a few pamphlets on arts or crafts. The
technical training school sometimes has
classes in wood carving, jewelry or basket
making, but these can service only a few.
The photograph is far more available to the
working artist, filling the need for artistic
and visual stimulation.
The market for artwork, both local and
foreign, is also a major influence. On the
local scene, wealthy purchasers want the


Hooked rug by textile artist Olive Creese.

painted canvas to look like the art they
learned about in the schools of England or
America. They want peaceful landscape
scenes or familiar parts of the island or por-
traits of themselves or loved ones, but all
painted in the Western manner. Images of
places outside the island are acceptable;
disruptive political or personal statements
are not. On the other hand, the poorer peo-
ple of St. Vincent-the majority-want dra-
matic images of popular music celebrities
associated with the collective search for Af-
rican roots and with the political and social
statements found in reggae music.
Large numbers of wood carvings are
sold to Vincentians or other West Indians
visiting the island, but as with other local
crafts, there is stiff competition in Kings-
town shops from batiks imported from Bar-
bados and wood carvings from Haiti. These
items are cheaper at the wholesale level
than nationally-made works because they
are mass-produced rather than hand made.
As.a result, shops carry an excess of im-
ported items which are appealing to tour-
ists. Although artists can sell door-to-door,
hand-to-hand on the beach or from a cart
set up on a Kingstown sidewalk, marketing
one's own work takes time away from neces-
sary farming or from employment with a
guaranteed income.
But the creative artists of St. Vincent re-
main largely undaunted by shortages of

Wood carving by David K-oala.

supplies or lack of support. And while their
art may not have an impact on the rest of the
area, it is a statement about the island's

people and their attitudes. Pride, optimism
and individuality are stamped on each
handcrafted item. O



1 U, -



Sugar Cane Alley. Directed by Euzhan
Palcy; Screenplay by Euzhan Palcy
(based on the novel, La rue Cases
Negres, by Joseph Zobel); produced by
Sumafa/Orca/NEF Diffusion; Director of
Photography: Dominique Chapuis; Fea-
turing: Garry Cadenat as Jose and
Darling Legitimus as M'Man Tine; Dis-
tributed by New Yorker Films, New York.
103 minutes. French with English

The Caribbean has seldom proved a bas-
tion of world-class filmmaking; the release
of a new film from Martinique, Sugar Cane
Alley (Rue Cases Negres), may signal a
change. The movie has done well in Marti-

Deborah Kanter studies Caribbean history at
the University of Michigan and works with the
film cooperative there.

nique and France, and is currently enjoying
extended runs at art theaters across the
United States.
Director Euzhan Palcy sets the film in
1930s Martinique, but dedicates it "to the
sugar cane alleys of the world." With this as
her purpose, Palcy has created a movie
which speaks remarkably well to the colo-
nial experience in the French West Indies,
and to cultural and social concerns of the
Caribbean region as a whole. Told through
the sensitive eyes of a young black boy,
Sugar Cane Alley explores a full spectrum
of insular society.
Like the novel by Joseph Zobel from
which it was adapted, Sugar Cane Alley
opens in a hamlet of plantation workers.
With almost ethnographic detail, Palcy re-
creates the rhythm of life in the shacks:
everyone dresses in rags; such material

possessions as a single china bowl are
treated with awe; children discover with
wonder the luxury of a hen's egg; and no one
feels their pay is adequate for the arduous
work they perform in the fields. The irony of
plantation economics is brought out in a
passing incident, when we learn that Jose's
grandmother cannot afford sugar; it is a
luxury item for those who harvest it.
Aficionados of Latin American cinema
will recall similar locales in the Cuban film,
The Last Supper, or in the Brazilian feature,
Ganga Zumba-films which portrayed
slave life in the 17th century. A comparison
suggests little change in the everyday real-
ities of plantation workers over three cen-
turies. An old man, Medouze, reiterates this
notion of continuity in the lives of rural Mar-
tiniquais, conveying the realization that "we
were free, but our bellies were empty." With


Plantation Society

Martinique's Sugar Cane Alley

A Film Review by Deborah Kanter

Scenes from the film. Opposite page: Jose, played by Garry Cadenant. Above: Grandmother M'Man Tine, played by Darling Legitimus, talks with Jose.

bloodshot eyes penetrating the night, he
continues, "the master became the boss.
The whites still own the land...nothing has

A Caribbean Horatio Alger
With the support of his grandmother M'Man
Tine, the local schoolteacher, and his natu-
ral intelligence, Jos& becomes one of only
two students from the cases negres to re-
ceive a school certificate. He gains entrance
to the Lyche in Fort de France with a partial
government scholarship; and while the nar-
rative does not take the budding scholar
past his early days at the Lyc6e, the au-
dience can easily imagine that he will leave
Martinique to study in France and one day
enter a profession.
With such a tale of success, Sugar Cane
Alley takes an overly optimistic view of the

powers of the colonial education system,
telling of the one youth from the cases
negres who "makes it." At the Lycee, the
only preparatory school on the island, Jose
is one of few blacks in an institution that
caters to the sons of the creole elite. His
former playmates, on the other hand, have
little choice but to join their parents in the
cane, their futures determined by social and
economic constraints. Jose is a sort of Ca-
ribbean Horatio Alger, who, with the help of
his hardworking grandmother, pulls himself
up by his bootstraps. Thus the film helps
perpetuate the myth of equality in Marti-
nique's colonial society.
While the film portrays the 1930s, Palcy
suggests a theme which seems more con-
temporary. Like many of her fellow Carib-
bean intellectuals and artists, she has
created a work which reflects a regional

rather than insular consciousness. Many of
its motifs, such as poverty, colonialism, syn-
cretic religious forms, and the relationship
between race and class, apply to most Ca-
ribbean societies. A problem arises when
the film leads the viewer to believe that the
people of the cases negres were aware of
similar poverty and suffering in
Guadeloupe. While such an awareness
would not be unlikely today, it was much
less common in the 1930s, especially
among a group of uneducated and isolated
cane cutters.
Despite its inconsistencies, Palcy's film
appears honest. It is a powerful expression
of modern negritude and clearly affirms the
culture of rural, black Martinique. The skill-
ful blending of personal and societal as-
pects creates a film as entertaining as it is
insightful. O


Continued from page 7

sential in dealing effectively with the
unknowns of the future.
There are other threats to democracy in
Jamaica, of course, in addition to the dan-
gers of the ideological extremes. They in-
clude political gangs and clientelism, as
Carl Stone points out in his book, Democ-
racy and Clientelism in Jamaica. There had
been charges of bogus voting and voter
intimidation before; but in 1976 a signifi-
cant increase in intimidation and violence
took place. Young men, some little more
than children, terrorized some residential
areas with their M-l 6s and AK-47s in politi-
cal wars over spoils and revenge. In the
1980 elections there may have been as
many as 350 political murders. Intimidation
has now spread to attacks against civil ser-
vants and supervisors who are trying to
carry out their jobs properly. Corruption has
become widespread, and loyal party mus-
clemen expect government, if their side
wins, to give them jobs and pay them for no
other work than their political gangsterism.
Also, the sluices of wealth from the ganja
trade and the evasion of import restrictions
have corrupted both low and high levels of
A desperation and grim viciousness has
crept into Jamaican politics in recent years,
making life less joyful. If a leader today threw
himself on his knees the way national hero
William Alexander Bustamante did in 1938
and pushed back a fixed bayonet with his
bare chest, would someone from the other
side shout out, "Cut 'em up"? In the early
days Bustamante upon occasion carried a
pistol or two stuck in his belt, but there was
little danger to life or limb, except maybe to
his own. Political conflict in the late 1940s
and early 1950s was largely theatrical and
rhetorical; today it includes the violence of
real gunmen. Vernon L. Arnett describes an
incident in his unpublished memoirs about
a verbal clash between Bustamante of the
JLP and Wills O. Isaacs of the PNP during
which one promised to horsewhip the other
on next sighting. A few days later they acci-
dentally met at a downtown bank. Both
turned and marched off in opposite direc-
tions. And that is where the entire matter
ended. Something has been lost from Ja-
maican politics: the sense that life can be
playful, worthy of both a flourish and a wry
smile, yet with common-sense practicality,
mutual respect and charity among men.
And some things have been added: anger,
hate, random violence, even the murder of
political opponents. These things, among
others, put Jamaican democracy in

Democratic Socialism
During the rule of the PNP from 1972 to
1980, Prime Minister Michael Manley chal-
lenged the country to both develop Jamai-
can society andto make it a more just social
system by implementing a wide variety of
egalitarian reforms. In so doing, he was
keeping faith with the promise of Jamaican
nationalism by attempting to fulfill both the
independence dream of more abundance,
i.e., a bigger pie, and the nationalist goal of
transforming the inequitable inequalities of
colonialism into the equitable qualities of
nationhood, i.e., making sure that everyone

"The days when the upper
classes and a few political
brokers ruled over sub-
servient masses are gone

had a piece of the pie. He was also bringing
to a head what, by then, had become the
major political struggle on the island, the
question of the role of the state in the econ-
omy and society.
Earlier, in the period leading to the gen-
eral elections of 1962, the two major politi-
cal parties were not polarized ideologically.
In fact the PNP attracted more middle-of-
the-road leaders, both liberals and conser-
vatives, than the JLP; while the JLP con-
tained more extremists from both ends of
the ideological continuum, especially more
radicals. We shouldn't forget that the JLP
won those elections, in part on the young
sociological field worker Edward Seaga's
slogan of "the haves and the have-nots"
and with the active support of some promi-
nent defectors from the PNR
By 1974 this had changed entirely. Two
major parties had become polarized along
ideological lines. None of the radical leaders
favored the JLP; all of them supported the
PNR No reactionary leaders supported the
PNP; two-thirds of them backed the JLP and
a third straddled the fence, an unstable
position they were not going to be able to
maintain in the coming months. In the fall of
1974 the PNP leaders announced that Ja-
maica would become a democratic socialist
country, and the battle of ideology over the
role of the state was out in the open.
The battle is linked to the question of how
much of a role the state should play. But it is
also a question of what kind of a role the
state will play, whose interests it will serve.
The JLP leaders want to minimize state in-
tervention, but from 1968 to 1973, mostly
under their regime, public sector workers
and staff nearly doubled in number. Under
both parties in Jamaica, public administra-

tive spending increased, especially in elec-
tion years, although excluding election
years, the increase was greater for periods of
PNP control than for periods of JLP control
by about 2 to 1. Today the state bureaucracy
constitutes a separate interest group.
Democratic socialism was an experiment
in social change defined in terms of global
ideological struggle. An important feature
of it was that the democratic part, in the
Western sense of the term, was taken se-
riously by many of the major actors, includ-
ing Michael Manley. The same, however,
cannot be said of some of the left-wing
members of the PNP and leaders of the
allied Workers' Party of Jamaica. Manley re-
mained committed to democracy, despite
some doubts about his resulting difficulties
in mobilizing the country, and even lectured
the National Executive Council of the PNP
on the difference between communism and
socialism. Yet as early as 1975, his
speeches became pro-Cuban, stridently
anticapitalist, anti-imperialist, and anti-
American. Furthermore, he supported the
authoritarian Grenadian People's Revolu-
tionary Government and participated in a
meeting in Managua to discuss ways of in-
fluencing the Socialist International to lean
more left. It is certain that such rhetoric and
the PNP militant foreign policy added to his
difficulties with the United States, alarmed
some Jamaicans at home, and contributed
to his party's defeat in 1980.
There were many reasons for the failures
of democratic socialism in Jamaica, not the
least of which was simple bad luck: the
worldwide economic recession, global re-
structuring of the aluminum industry, and
the rising cost of oil. Others included the
loss of foreign investment, the lack of coop-
eration or demoralization of the Jamaican
national bourgeoisie, the economic re-
strictions imposed by the International
Monetary Fund, and serious mistakes in
strategy and implementation of the demo-
cratic socialist policies themselves. As John
and Evelyne Huber Stephens point out in
their book, Democratic Socialism in Ja-
maica, some of the programs-such as
Project Food Farms-were sunk from
within the ranks of the PNP itself as a result
of shortsighted patronage, and others failed
because of lack of political education, inad-
equate accounting, insufficient information
and planning, and overcentralization and
overstaffing, to mention just a few of the
problems. Jamaican pollster Carl Stone
claims that from 1974 to 1980 per capital
disposable income fell, consumption ex-
penditures fell, wages in real terms fell, and
unemployment increased, despite in-
creases in public sector spending and em-
ployment. And the distribution of income,
according to economist Compton Bourne,
became more unequal.
Yet literacy was up, health care improved,
infant mortality reduced, life expectancy in-


creased and educational levels raised. In
Democratic Socialism, the Stephens con-
clude that there were "significant, and per-
manent achievements of the PNP govern-
ment, such as the bauxite policy, land
reform, the State Trading Corporation, labor
legislation and social inclusion policies."
Additionally, they argue that some, if not
most, of the failures were correctable. Most
important, they say that the democratic so-
cialist regime of the PNP significantly
changed the relative power of the social
classes in Jamaica. As evidence they point
to the fact "that the JLP felt compelled to
make such a heavy appeal to material inter-
ests of the masses to win the 1980 election,
its reluctance [after coming to power] to roll
back labor legislation or the PNP's peoples
programs, including the much criticized
make-work program, its failure, despite its
conservative rhetoric, to introduce the kind
of austerity programs favored in interna-
tional financial circles, and finally its rapid
loss of popular support once the loan-sub-
sidized consumer orgy subsided and the
ugly hand of reality began to push
through...The days when the upper classes
and a few political brokers ruled over sub-
servient masses are gone forever."

Shaping the Future
The future is unknowable and uncertain un-
til it becomes the present, thus giving us
hope that we can make it to our liking. There
are no future facts. The nationalist leaders
in Jamaica and elsewhere in the new states
were forced to try to shape the future as they
confronted the decisions that had to be
made to found and build a nation. In fact

there is no way anyone can make a con-
scious decision about anything without
thinking about the future. Among the inter-
pretive frameworks that have been pro-
posed to make sense of social change in the
Caribbean-black power, plantation soci-
ety, Marxist-Leninism, pluralism or imperi-
alism-a neglected one is futurism. Images
of the future held by various individuals and
groups shaped their behaviors and created
social structures and institutions, delayed
or accelerated social changes.
With democratic socialism Jamaica be-
came deeply involved in the left-right, East-
West ideological struggles of the world. For
example, Locksley Edmondson has
pointed out that Jamaica, which in 1982
was the second highest US aid recipient per
capital after Israel, has been portrayed by the
Reagan administration under the present
Seaga government as a model Third World
economy, rescued "from a government that
had been 'virtually under communist
control'" ("Jamaica 1982," in Jack Hopkins,
ed., Latin America and Caribbean Contem-
porary Record, 1982-83). 1 won't comment
here on the distortion of truth contained in
the official American view, but the point is
that, ironically, just as Jamaica seems thor-
oughly enmeshed in it, left-right ideological
differences may have less and less rele-
vance both for the day-to-day running of a
country and for the alternative possibilities
for a better future. The futurist Alvin Toffler
may be right when he says that "the decisive
struggle today" is not between social
classes, races or ethnic groups, nor between
capitalist and communist, nor between
North and South nor East and West. Rather,

it is "between those who try to prop up and
preserve industrial society and those who
are ready to advance beyond it."
To take just one example of a develop-
ment project that represents an innovation
of the Third Wave, we can travel to Venezu-
ela. In 1979 Luis Alberto Machado was ap-
pointed the country's first Minister for the
Development of Human Intelligence. "His
mission: to teach Venezuelans to think," ac-
cording to the New York Times. Not just
some Venezuelans were to be taught, but all
Venezuelans. Moreover, it is now possible to
set such a goal, to increase the intelligence
of an entire population, for example, per-
haps as much as 3 percent a year. In Venezu-
ela, Mr. Machado took the old cliche about
the wealth o the country being the people
and created a national campaign to do
something more about it than give after-
dinner speeches or commencement ad-
dresses. The true riches of Venezuela, he
said, are not in oil, but in brains.
The development and democratization of
human intelligence in Venezuela has been a
multi-method, multi-pronged effort. It in-
cluded 14 projects which began in
1979-80. Each was based on scientific find-
ings, served the ends of no political party or
ideology, aimed to benefit the whole popu-
lation, although with special attention to the
underprivileged, and intended to use world-
wide resources and to contribute to the in-
tellectual development of the human
species. Good prenatal care and infant nu-
trition were beginning points. The family
project started in maternity hospitals where
new mothers and other adults helping to
raise children were taught how to provide a


responsive and sensory-stimulating en-
vironment for the newborn. Cognitive and
emotional stimulation, the five senses,
motor functions and language, are all in-
volved. The program runs from the prenatal
stage to the age of six. In addition to face-to-
face teaching of mothers, audiovisual and
printed materials are used, not only to rein-
force the mothers' learning but to create
understanding and skills in grandparents
and others who may be involved in teaching
the children. TV spots are run and rerun.
During 1982 the aim was to train 250,000
mothers, representing about half of the new
mothers in Venezuela that year.
The learn-to-think project follows the
techniques of Dr. Edward de Bono and de-
velops creativity, or what Dr. de Bono calls
"lateral thinking." It includes analyzing
problems and searching for solutions often
dealing with the realities of Venezuelan life.
Beginning in the 4th grade with the initial
training of 48 teachers, this project involves
training over 40,000 teachers and about 1.2
million students in the 4th, 5th, and 6th
Based on the work of Dr. Reuven Fuer-
stein, the integral enrichment project en-
hances the cognitive development of
children from socially and culturally under-
privileged groups. Students develop capac-
ities such as analytical perception, spatial-
temporal orientation, categorization, transi-
tive relations, syllogisms, analogies, and
convergent and divergent thought. With
such cognitive training, members of margi-
nal educational groups can be put back on
track. Other projects include visual educa-
tion in which ideas are related to visual im-
ages as a complement to verbal language; a

chess project linked to the development of
abstract thought; Project Intelligence for 7th
graders carried out by researchers from
Harvard University and a Cambridge con-
sulting firm that teaches "such things as
quantitative skills, basic logic, language,
design, and problem-solving"; a creative
thinking project for university students; a
learn-to-think project for the members of
the Venezuelan Armed Forces; a creativity
project for public officials; and thinking de-
velopment projects aimed at urban com-
munities, peasants and workers.
The "brave new world" quality of this
great social experiment can be detected in
the description of the integral creativity
project: "A group of some hundred students
from the poor districts, at the level of fourth
grade elementary school, will be trained, in
an estimated lapse of one year, to perform
the symphonic works of great, world-fa-
mous composers, and to demonstrate great
creative capacity in musical composition,
the plastic arts, poetry, and in the use of
techniques for solving problems. The idea
is to teach them to be artists, within a broad
range of accomplishments, and to be capa-
ble of devising new solutions. All the forego-
ing is based on the idea that every child
potentially possesses the necessary apti-
tude for any creative achievement" (Minister
of State for the Development of Human In-
telligence, Venezuela, "The Development of
Intelligence," 1980).
We are all skeptical of brave new worlds
today with the atrocities of Nazi Germany
and Stalin's USSR still in our memories, not
to mention the recent murders and other
abominations to human dignity of the ultra-
leftists in Grenada. But imagine it: A great

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national mobilization to create thinkers, mu-
sicians, poets, artists! We should be as-
tonished. And in a world with too many
fanatics, terrorists, political ideologists, and
religious zealots, we should be delighted.
As in any great social experiment, the
Venezuelan thinking program no doubt will
have its failures and disappointments along
with its successes and triumphs. I cite it only
to illustrate one case of national develop-
ment that has managed to break with con-
ventional thinking. Once we escape from
the straitjackets of contemporary political
ideologies, what possibilities for the future
will we be capable of recognizing? Present
possibilities for the future are real and they
are here with us now.
One of the late futurist Herman Kahn's
favorite stories was about a well-dressed
woman who rose from the audience one
evening after his lecture to disagree with his
rosy prognostications. She began with a
general review of the benefits of the good
old days in contrast to the deficiencies of the
present, and ended with the specific com-
plaint of no longer being able to get good
servants. Kahn thought a minute and then
said, "Lady, in the 'good old days' you would
have been one of the servants."
Is Jamaica better off today than 30 years
ago? Despite the coming of shirt-jacs, fast-
food patties, shiny new ministries and nu-
merous development plans, there has been
less change than one might imagine. Ja-
maica still has pot-holes and "Christmas
work," drought and power outages and, of
course, the poor. I'm not sure that social
harmony has increased. In fact, social con-
flict in some areas may have risen. Nor can
we be sure that individual happiness is
greater now than 30 years ago. But Jamaica
is better off today in many ways. Health,
education and life expectancy have im-
proved. Jamaica is a more socially inclusive
society. Knowledge of the world, skill levels,
aspirations and motivations, and self-confi-
dence are higher. Perhaps most important,
there has been an increase in the ineffable
sense of self and country, and of common
In the year 2,000 I hope that Jamaicans
will still go to the garden after dinner. In-
stead of looking down at their feet though, I
hope they will look up at the stars. As Bozo,
the screever, told George Orwell in Down
and Out in Paris and London, "The stars
are a free show; it don't cost anything to use
your eyes." But Bozo was speaking of ac-
cepting poverty, something that modern
Jamaicans reject. What might be seen,
looking out into space and back and for-
ward through time is how to transcend the
limitations of the present and the blinders of
conventional thought and ideology. Alterna-
tive possibilities for the future are real and
they will exist then and there, waiting to be
recognized and brought to fruition on earth
in the here and now. O


A publication of the Center for Inter-American Relations
680 Park Avenue, New York, New York 10021

Inside Rasta
Continued from page 11

some of Marley's lyrics to answer any ques-
tions, now they had to start thinking for
themselves. The result was that many re-
treated from any outward commitment to
Rastafari by cutting off their locks. Some
even went so far as to publicly denounce
Rasta. There are a number of prominent
examples of this in Jamaica.
At the same critical time we find Jamaica
being faced with a challenge: Can we build a
nation and shape a society which is vibrant,
self-reliant and self-respecting? One in
which the dignity, competence and heritage
of black people would be affirmed? To this
challenge, Wilmot Perkins answered on 18
January 1981: "Of all the elements of Ja-
maican society the middle class alone
holds the key to the 20th century. If that is
where Jamaica wants to go it must submit
to the leadership of the middle class!" As to
where Jamaica is to go in the 20th century,
John Hearne suggested in December 1982
that "a country like Jamaica must lock itself
into a great capitalist economy, obviously
North America... We can become a subsi-
dized client of the Soviet Union or we can
become free market province of the United
States. Of the two choices I would recom-
mend the latter." Mr. Hearne's recommen-

dation is the same as that of Seaga and the
JLP Of course the WPJ points in the op-
posite direction. I interpret Hearne's and
Perkins' statements as votes of no confi-
dence in the people of Jamaica and of black
people in particular. We cannot solve our
problems for ourselves unless we lock our-
selves into somebody else. Rasta has also
been attempting to answer this same ques-
tion. Can Jamaica do something for itself?
Nonetheless, we have moved into a
phase where Rasta is going to "put up" or
"shut up" because some other observers
are raising questions which are quite differ-
ent from what Hearne and Perkins were say-
ing. Even if Rasta didn't want to take on the
challenge of helping to chart a course for
Jamaica, Ernie Gordon in May 1982 sug-
gested that "if parliament can recognize US
cults like the Mormons, who formerly did
not permit black people to be admitted as
priests, the Jehovah's Witnesses, the Christ-
tian Scientists and the Children of God ...
then the Rastafarians have to receive the
same treatment." In 1982 Rex Nettleford
concluded that "Rastafari is the only indige-
nous form of cultural and political assertion,
native born and native bred ... for the
Rastafarian daring and even revolutionary
leap into a cosmology which renders God in
their own image is among the greatest
achievement in the long and continuing
struggle by people of African ancestry to
achieve self-respect, dignity and ultimately
I -I .

political power over their destiny." Michael
Manley (14 February 1982) stated that "...
Rastafarianism is as true a faith in the sense
that its believers have taken that step be-
yond mere rationality in the acceptance of a
view of the unknown, the unknowable and
unprovable which is faith. The true
Rastafarian, therefore, has traced his iden-
tity beyond mere history and geography, to
the ultimate source of all things for the be-
liever, the Creator himself." Finally, Carl
Stone summed it all up in 1982: "... in our
society the most powerful ideological force
is Rastafarianism not Marxism, and Rasta
appeal has nothing to do with full or empty
None of these important observers of the
Jamaican reality are Rastafarians, but they
are pointing out very interesting things;
even if Rasta did not want that challenge, we
have had it thrust upon us. Now the ques-
tion is: Can Rasta deliver?
There have been three important devel-
opments so fr in phase three. The first
represents a number of attempts at syn-
chronizing (not organizing) Rastas. In
1982-83, we had a series of five meetings
with different houses, to try to get a voice of
Rasta speaking on its own behalf as a
group. A number of Rasta houses refused to
participate. There have been three interna-
tional Rasta conferences. The first one, held
in 1982 in Toronto, consisted of workshops
around theology; Rasta and the community,


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the law, police, media; Rasta and the family,
education and the economic system. The
second conference was in Jamaica in 1983.
Workshops covered spiritual values, eco-
nomics, health and education, media, re-
patriation and human rights. The third
conference was held in July 1984 in
The second important development is
the development of a Rasta intelligentsia.
There are probably less than a dozen people
who have taken on that challenge. These are
people who have all the credentials to be
considered part of the Jamaican intel-
ligentsia, but basically they're Rasta man
and Rasta woman. Much of the Jamaican
intelligentsia have a problem dealing with
that reality. For example, in a 1983 article
John Hearne described a person as a
"Dread not a Rastafarian." I asked Mr.
Hearne by what means he could make that
distinction. He told me that it was because
the person in question was so clear and
articulate in his analysis and did not use
cliaracteristic Rasta jargon. This reaction
has been typical.
The third component in this phase three
development is the beginning of the artic-
ulation of a Rasta social theory. A social
theory is an organized set of values which
explain what you are for, what you are going
to do and how you're going to do it. Even
people who do not share your assumptions
about reality can share your social theory.
The social theory (so far as I see it) divides
issues into three basic categories: founda-
tions, livity and social organization. Each
issue takes on a different perspective, de-
pending upon whether it is viewed as re-
ligion or as social theory, as shown in the
The Future of Rastafari
What do I see as the future of Rastafari? I see
the pruning of "dead wood." Those who are
not prepared to work will cease to visibly
identify themselves with Rastafari. Now they
are on the frontline; they will either have to
"put up" or "shut up." I see an expansion of
the Rasta intelligentsia-those who will
transform the oral to the written to the trans-
cultural symbolic form, to provide answers
to our questions of development and the
contradictions of race, class and exo-
centricity which plague Jamaica. I also see a
further clarification of the Rasta social the-
ory. What has been presented here is but
one man's vision; others will add, change or
substract. As the intelligentsia expands, the
Rasta adolescence phase will become
shorter, as more Rasta adolescents would
now choose that model of Rasta manhood,
thus creating a broader pool of Rasta exper-
tise and nation-building skills.
I also see more political and economic
assertion and creative experimentation on
the part of Rastas resulting in a share of
state power. The work of the Rasta intel-
ligentsia, plus the articulation of a social

Marcus Garvey
The Bible
The Creator

Uvity (Lifestyle)


Personal appearance

Family Life

Social Organization

Power and resources


As Religion

A prophet
A special book
Haile Selassie

Old Testament restrictions

Ritualistic uses

Project African
Dreadlocks as ideal
Reject adopted models

No participation

Social living


theory, would increase the potential for rev-
olutionary conflict in Jamaica by expanding
from what Carl Stone sees as purely sym-
bolism and ideology issues to include both
areas of power and income distribution.
Rastafari has the option of becoming the
vehicle through which the feelings and real-
ity of significant sections from the labor
class-the lumpen, the ghetto culture, and
also what I call the soft left-can be articu-
lated. If Rasta begins to move along these
dimensions, it is highly unlikely that
Rastafari could become allied with political
organizations which are similar to the JLP or
to the WPJ of Jamaica. Both of these organ-
izations are non-Afrocentric in their orienta-
tion and are slavishly committed to
Washington and Moscow, respectively. In-
trinsic to the social theory of Rasta are the
concepts of Africa and black people. I see
more physical connection with African
countries with people moving both ways to
and from the continent. I also see more
African-Americans and Africans in Europe
migrating to Jamaica, bringing with them

As Social Theory

A social activist
An interesting book
Man/God unity
Global pan-Africanism and
return to Afro-centricity
tradition with reason.

Natural foods and those
low on the food chain.
Wider exploration of the
useful medicinal and
psychological effects of
natural substances.
Dreadlocks as option
Affirms authentic and
adaptive models.

Tool of liberation,
mechanism for social

Human economics
Social living, capital living,
communal living.
Predatory aggression-no
Protective aggression-yes

their skills and capital.
Can anything stop this process? Repres-
sion cannot. There was a time when most
schools would not admit Rasta youth, but
that never worked either. Rastas have cre-
ated their own jobs and people are coming
to Rasta to beg Rasta jobs now. Can co-
option stop it? I say no, because there is no
centralized leadership. Interestingly, even
the New York City Police made the point that
it was very hard for even them to infiltrate
and co-opt it if they wanted to. What then
can stop the process? If a Rasta intel-
ligentsia does not produce a social theory
whose viability can be demonstrated by
livity; if some better system evolves in Ja-
maica to answer the contradictions of race,
class and exocentricity, this better system
would obviously subsume Rasta. If this pro-
cess stops, then Rastafari would move from
being the most powerful ideological force in
Jamaica to take its place beside, if not be-
hind, the other systems of escape, igno-
rance or solace that influence the physical,
mental and spiritual lives of our people. O


Evolving a Rastafarian Social Theory

Rasta Crime
Continued from page 15

lent confrontation. The movement has been
infiltrated by a number of criminals, but
these people are essentially individualists
and have little ideological influence.
Because of this individualism and lack of
ideological influence, manipulation of the
Ras Tafarians will be difficult, if not impossi-
ble. In this city, Ras Tafarians are for the
most part apolitical, with the only exception
being the brief existence of the Ras Tafarian
Movement Association (RMA), during the
latter part of 1974.
All investigations into Ras Tafarian ac-
tivity in this city have uncovered their pro-
pensity to criminal activity. They mainly
prey on fellow Jamaicans or other Ras Taf-
arians, through assault, homicide, or extor-
tion. They also engage in smuggling of
illegal aliens and marijuana into this coun-
try. When they are discovered in criminal
activity they will resort to violence in an
effort to escape.

Diversity of Criminal Activity
This quasi-religious movement has now (as
a result of new intelligence) proven to be a

very rapidly growing cult. It has a strange
dichotomy about it that makes it rather
unique. On one end of the spectrum is the
very religious, hard working, law-abiding
Ras Tafari. On the other side is the Ras Taf-
arian that the true religious brethren refers
to as "Rudeboys." We in law enforcement
refer to the "Rudeboys" as the criminal ele-
ment. This criminal element or sect within
the Ras Tafarian Cult, is starting to generate
attention and concern throughout the
United States and Canada. In order to re-
main totally objective, one must not lose
sight of the fact that this writer is talking
about two separate and distinct factions
within the Ras Tafarian Cult, e.g., religious
vs. criminal.
The purpose of this report is not to imply
that the Ras Tafarian cult as a whole is crimi-
nal. Nor is it to suggest in any way that the
legitimate and basic doctrines of the Ras
Tafarian religion dictates the violating of
laws, or condones in any manner, the acts of
violence employed by alleged members of
their cult.
Six years ago, this writer gathered and
disseminated intelligence indicating that
members of the Ras Tafarian cult were
being sent to Havana, Cuba, for extensive
training in guerilla warfare. At that particular
time, the intelligence gathered was the only
indication that Ras Tafarians were graduat-

ing above the level of street crimes, and
beginning to develop small cadres or cells
within their cult, capable of posing a serious
problem to law enforcement. Since that
time, through the cooperation of other law
enforcement agencies, the opportunity was
made available to carefully analyze the
criminal structure of this group. The follow-
ing revelations have come to light.
Various groups, clicks, cadres and/or
cells within the Ras Tafarian Cult have
aligned themselves with the following:
Black Organized Crime; The Black Israel-
ites; The Five Percenter Nation; Organized
Crime Family; *The Twelve Tribes, a/k/a
Tribes Men; *The House of Israel; *The Ras
Tafarian Brethren Aid Committee; *The
Caribbean Progressive League; *The Revo-
lutionary Ras Tafarian Guerilla Movement;
Ras Tafarian Movement Association; the
Ethiopian Zion Coptics; the Shully Monks;
the Tivolli Gardens Group; John T's Group;
the Niyabingi Tribe,, a/k/a Niyabingi Men;
the Raetown Boys, a/k/a the Untouchables;
the Dunkirk Boys, a/k/a the Majenta; the
Special Branch, a/k/a the Branches; the
Hot Steppers, a/k/a the Junglelites; the
Youth Construction Brigade League, a/k/a
the Junglelites.
Note: It is important to mention that this
writer is alluding to cell structures within the
criminal elements that have aligned their


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particular groups with the aforementioned
To further differentiate the criminal ele-
ments, those organizations preceded by an
asterisk denote political loyalty, or backing,
by members of the People's National Party
in Jamaica, West Indies. A sufficient amount
of unsubstantiated information has been
provided to this command indicating that
those organizations of political involvement
are engaged in the filtering of monies to
persons who have direct ties to members of
the People's National Party.
In addition to the above, this writer was
informed by reliable confidential sources in
Jamaica, WI., that a number of homicides
that appear to be drug related, were in fact
directed by persons who were once in posi-
tions of power during the administration of
former Prime Minister Michael Manley!
These persons have since been identified
as being responsible for the trafficking
of weapons and marijuana through the
utilization of "Junglelites."

Twelve Tribes
In the past, various cells within the Ras Taf-
arian cult utilized business cards to
advertise the availability and sale of drugs,
e.g., marijuana (ganja) and cocaine. This
technique is sometimes practiced in com-
mands where heavy concentrations of Ras
Tafarians exist. In May 1982, this command
was provided with new intelligence infor-
mation concerning this practice. "Twelve
Tribes" (a cell within the Ras Tafarians), de-
veloped a new and more sophisticated
means of advertising. Members of the
Twelve Tribes are located in various West
Indian communities within New York City.
The Twelve Tribes have adopted the use
of color-coded cards for distribution, to fa-
cilitate their sale of drugs. The following
wording is printed on these cards: "COME
The cards are printed in red, yellow and
green, the colors of the Ethiopian Flag,
which is the symbol of the Ras Tafarian cult.
The color for these cards changes daily,
similar to the policy of this Department con-
cerning the color of the day. The Twelve
Tribes have, in addition to adopting a color
code, also incorporated the use of numbers.
It is alleged that this system is employed to
minimize the possibility of arrest through
the use of undercover buys, e.g., color today
being "red," cards are numbered #1 thru
#50 (actual range of numbers unknown). If
a "red #5" was previously collected, then
the second "red #5" used that day will not
be honored. This avoids duplication of
cards, also second "red #5" user is then
placed in a severe risk situation, as he is
assumed to be an undercover Police Officer.
Consistent with the above, if "red" is the

color today, and one of your Detectives mis-
takenly passes a "yellow or green" card, then
he/she will be in a situation which ulti-
mately may present a significant risk.

In New York City
Most of the estimated 10,000 Ras Tafarians
currently living in New York are honest,
hardworking, law-abiding individuals who
remember and still fear the criminal ele-
ment of their cult. Extortion is the trade-
mark of this cellular structured organization
which victimizes our West Indian commu-
nity. Their major source of income is de-
rived from the illegal sale of guns and
Many of the crimes committed by the Ras
Tafarians go unreported due to the victim's
fear of reprisal against themselves or family
members still on the island of Jamaica. It is
extremely difficult to develop current tacti-
cal or strategic intelligence due to the cellu-
lar structure and quasi-religious nature of
this organization.
The absence of available Federal Funds
and limited manpower restrict efforts to
wage a full-scale campaign against the Ras
Tafarians. Most of the Ras Tafarians are
armed and will kill to avoid detection or
apprehension. They believe in reincarna-
tion and do not fear death. They pose a
definite threat to any police officer they
come in contact with. When arrested for
criminal activity, they often cry "religious
discrimination" to place the Police on the
The concentrated population of West In-
dians currently residing within Queens is
growing with each passing day. All are po-
tential targets of opportunity for the Ras
Tafarians. Many known criminals who pre-
viously lived in other areas of our city, have
moved to Queens to take advantage of the
situation. Many of the known Ras Tafarian
leaders who are wanted for criminal acts by
other jurisdictions, have taken up residence
in Queens. Current investigations indicate
that many stores and shops are used by the
Ras Tafarians to front illegal traffic in weap-
ons and drugs. Many of the owners of such
locations are doing so against their will, but
refuse to cooperate with the Police out of
fear. The Ras Tafarians actively recruit
members in and around our public schools.
They also use religious training sessions as
a blind to cover illegal operations.
Crime Prevention and Community Af-
fairs personnel assigned to Precincts with
large West Indian populations, are well in-
formed as to the illegal activities of the Ras
Tafarians. Their knowledge relative to iden-
tities, locations, and methods of operation
must be disseminated to patrol members.
Very little can be accomplished without lo-
cal community support. Solicit their coop-
eration and assure them that our Depart-
ment will do everything possible to protect
them from the criminal element. O


Swine Fever
Continued from page17

population program and will be cheated in
the end. The private sector is looking into
pig raising, and 80 imported pigs are
housed at a government quarantine station
at Mais Gate near the international airport in
Port-au-Prince. A Haitian businessman has
decided to go into the now profitable busi-
ness of pig farming; more are expected to
follow, and therein lies the trouble as far as
the poor peasant is concerned-he is being
cut out of the market. When the peasant
controlled the market, it was not lucrative
enough for private enterprise.

Widespread Repercussions
The Haitian black pig, called cochon-
planche, is a crossbreed between the Span-
ish hog brought to the island by those who
followed Christopher Columbus and the au-
tochthonous wild boar. The original swine
fever outbreak in the Dominican Republic
was supposedly traced to an Iberia Airline
ham sandwich, contaminated by the virus,
which was fed to a pig after being discarded
following a flight from Madrid to Santo
Domingo. "It is sort of a poetic justice to
think that the Haitian pig, with its Spanish
ancestry, may have been wiped out by a
Spanish ham sandwich," said one US
Over a period of 500 years the black pig
had become a lean and degenerate scav-
enger. It was perfectly adapted to some of
the most miserable raising conditions in the
world, and could go two or three days with-
out food. That hardy species is extinct; it will
take generations of American pigs to be-
come "Haitianized" to the point where they
can survive and forage for food in the filth as
the black pig did.
Pig care in the past required no special
attention. The hog grew in city garbage
dumps or in humid places in country back-
yards. The usual cost of a pig at birth aver-
aged $10, and the retail price at maturity
ranged from $150 to $250. The initial in-
vestment could be as low as $2 if purchase
was made "in the belly" during the sow's
pregnancy. Says Jean-Jacques Honorat, a
Haitian sociologist, "Beyond its nominal
cash value, which is part of the peasant
subsistence economy, the pig also has an
enormous indirect economic value which
has never as yet been estimated. It is indeed
a master component of the Haitian peas-
ant's production system."
Not only was the pig inexpensive to keep,
it provided many services for the farmer.
The pig was the farmer's garbage disposal

Imported Iowa pig drinking water from faucet.

system, consuming a large variety of
human and domestic wastes as well as farm
residues and by-products. The pig went
after wild plants, roots and certain species
of insects and worms. Its natural immunity
against most of the endemic diseases kept it
healthy. After a harvest, pigs would dig for
tubers and roots left in the soil-almost like
a mechanized digging device-thereby
helping to prepare it for the next planting. It
fed on the may beetle larva, a worm that was
particularly destructive to plants. In addi-
tion, its excrement, high in nitrogen, pro-
vided the fertilizer for crops.
The loss of the black pig creates a re-
ligious dilemma for the Haitian peasant. A
voudou expert has pointed out that some
individuals, or maybe a whole village, may
have made a commitment to their gods and
have an "arrangement to worship and sacri-
fice a black pig, and you can't continue to
postpone the matter. There must be a lot of
problems, stress and anguish, and possibly
illness, and who knows but that death could
be caused by the inability to please one's
gods in the correct manner, especially if you
have a contract," said the Haitian ethnolo-
gist. The petro rite, the most important cer-
emony involving the black pig, has great
significance because the slaves launched
their war of independence against the
French on the night of 14 August 1791 with a
petro ceremony at a place called Bois Cai-
man in North Haiti, not far from Cap Haitien.
A black pig was sacrificed and all partici-
pants at that famous ceremony drank its

blood. There are stories that some Haitian
houngans have gone so far as to hide their
cochon-planches away in caves to keep for
the petro ritual.
Even school attendance is adversely af-
fected by the pig disaster. At a Baptist mis-
sion, the pastor's wife noted, "We have seen
a drop of over 25 percent in attendance to
our mission school because they have no
pigs to sell to send their children to school."
Although the school charges only $10 per
year for each child, which includes three
meals a day, most peasant families sold
their pig in October to pay the tuition and
purchase a school uniform. Furthermore,
without the pigs to dispose of waste, peas-
ant families are discovering the need for
outhouses. "1 don't have a pig, pastor, I have
to get an outhouse because I'm poor and I
farm with my hands," a peasant recently
told the pastor.
All these repercussions, many of them
unforeseen, point to a possible mishandling
of the African swine fever situation, illustrat-
ing lack of knowledge on the part of the
United States and insensitivity on the part of
Haiti's government and ruling class toward
its rural population and peasant society.
One may ask whether there was any alterna-
tive, for an outbreak of African swine fever
did, indeed, occur in Haiti. Haitians think it
might have been possible to at least pre-
serve the breed by quarantining some of
the healthy pigs rather than totally annihilate
a species of swine that had become such an
important part of the peasant's life. ]



Continued from page 20

tions, and two of the nation's three major
daily newspapers.
The opposition, however, still has access
to the remaining 23 radio stations. The op-
position newspaper La Prensa has a cir-
culation equal to the combined circulation
of the official FSLN organ Barricada and the
pro-Sandinista Nuevo Diario. Most cru-
cially, the private sector remains strong in
economic terms; and while the public sec-
tor has grown in the past five years, the state
does not control the commanding heights
of the economy. Thus, while dominant, the
FSLN is not a hegemonic party. In actuality
it has substantially less control over Nic-
aragua than the PRI has over Mexico. This
fact was attested to by a senior US diplo-
matic informant (whose earlier career was
mainly in SovietAffairs) when he stated that
"Nicaragua was not at this time totalitarian
society"; he did go on to argue that it had
the potential to become one.
There is little question thatthe FSLN took
substantial advantage of its incumbency in
pursuing its campaign, and in a strict sense
this added up to abuse. Most of what we
were able to document, however, was the

kind of behavior not unknown in many
democratic societies, including urban
wards of the United States. While its behav-
ior was not always edifying, the FSLN did
not to any significant degree gain an unfair
advantage by its incumbency. The fact is
the FSLN is the best organized party in the
country and possesses the widest organiza-
tional base mainly because it has spent
considerable time and energy developing
its infrastructure, not simply because it
controls the state.
Moreover, there is no really credible evi-
dence to support the popular view that the
FSLN sought to undercut the opposition's
ability to campaign. On the contrary, the
electoral council provided extensive
amounts of paper, ink, paint and printing
services to opposition parties as well as 19
million c6rdobas per party (US$900,000),
plus 22 hours of free television time per
party and substantial access to radio. One
could not go anywhere in Nicaragua with-
out seeing opposition billboards, wall paint-
ings and handouts, as well as each party's
TV spots. Given the obvious organizational
weakness of most of the small opposition
groups, one could well argue that the FSLN
actually helped to revitalize and sustain
most of the opposition's campaigns. In ad-
dition, the opposition could generate their
own funds and supplies.
A related question which also fits into the
issue of the "climate of the elections" was
the oft-stated charge that the FSLN used


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gangs of young toughs known as turbas to
disrupt opposition allies and intimidate cit-
izens. There is little doubt that such actions
took place and in some instances were di-
rected by FSLN officials. But as usual it is
necessary to put such incidents into con-
text. The term turba is in fact loosely used
to cover incidents ranging from organized
disruption, to spontaneous crowd behavior,
to neighborhood-based interpersonal
clashes. Most of the well publicized turbas
took place early in the campaign, in August
and September, and were directed mainly
at the rallies of Cruz and the Coordinadora.
While it does not excuse anything, it is rele-
vant to remember that as an abstentionist
Cruz was campaigning outside of the pro-
tection of the electoral law, and in a strict
legal sense was in violation of the prohibi-
tion in the law against any public calls for
abstention. Moreover, in the emotionally
charged environment that exists as a result
of the counterrevolutionary war, Cruz was
viewed by many FSLN supporters as a dis-
loyal if not traitorous participant in the US-
backed contra plan to discredit and over-
throw the FSLN.
As the campaign proceeded, the num-
bers and level of organization of the turbas
declined significantly. Moreover, turbas
against other participating opposition
groups were sporadic and did not evidence
any systematic attempt to shut down the
opposition. It is noteworthy that of the 61
formal complaints filed with the electoral
council by the opposition parties, only 8
alleged turbas. The fact is that the par-
ticipating opposition was able to campaign
fully within the rules, and even Cruz and the
Coordinadora were able to get their mes-
sage across. While such tactics are far from
admirable, disruptive and intimidating be-
havior, as well as other kinds of "dirty
tricks," are not unheard of in recognized
democratic systems throughout Latin
America and even in more advanced de-
mocracies, including the United States.
What of other ways to create a climate of
fear and intimidation, such as the use of the
CDS to spy on people and threaten them
with sanctions, perhaps the loss of ration
cards? The CDSs exist, are widespread and
provide an important base of popular sup-
port for the FSLN. In some areas the FSLN
has used the CDS to mobilize people for
rallies, campaign efforts and the like. Yet it is
also evident that the active presence of the
CDS varies tremendously throughout the
country. The groups seem to be! most active
in poorer neighborhoods and h rural areas,
where they in fact deliver rany concrete
benefits and services. In same respects,
they function as a civic association in these
On the other hand, participants in some
of the CDSs described t em as voluntary
groups elected by the residents of a block,
and more often than not service in them


was viewed more as a burden than a benefit.
As a result it was not always easy to staff
them, and in fact many are run by non-
Sandinistas and sometimes anti-Sand-
inistas. I was told of at least one run by an ex-
Somocista, the reason being that his neigh-
bors concluded that since he knew how to
get things done before he probably would
be the best at it now. There is little doubt that
CDS abuses have taken place. But in the
main, these seem to reflect interfamilial
vendettas and other kinds of neighborhood
dynamics. The CDSs seem to be loose
organizations with little capacity for coer-
cion rather than the means of centralized
political manipulation.

A Climate of Fear
One could sense a climate of cautious re-
straint, if not fear, in Nicaragua. But it is
nothing like the flat-out fear that I witnessed
in Bolivia after the coup by Garcia Mesa in
1980, or like that generated by the "death
squads" in El Salvador, or that which is pal-
pable in the squatter settlements of San-
tiago, Chile, today. The climate of caution
and, to some extent, fear in Nicaragua is a
complex phenomenon which reflects the
fact that this is a society in the throes of
active revolution and counterrevolution.
Thus, many people with various views of the
issue are afraid for different reasons.
Middle and upper-class people fear los-
ing their former economic, political and sta-
tus positions owing to the redistributional
policies pushed by the Sandinistas under
the theme of following the "logic of the ma-
jority." People in war zones fear the ven-
geance of the contras. One large private
sector coffee producer in Matagalpa related
how the contras killed her husband to dis-
courage other private sector producers
from cooperating with the revolution.
On the Atlantic coast, the Miskitos fear
and distrust both the government and the
contras; or any manifestation of hispanic
criollo society for that matter. In the barrios
and squatter settlements as well as the rural
areas, there is a general tentativeness and
prudence towards political action born of
long and bitter experience under the
Somoza dynasty. In short, there are plenty
of reasons for just about everyone to be
politically uptight in Nicaragua today.
Nicaragua has not experienced substan-
tial bloody reprisals against any class or
group, including those who backed
Somoza. The reprisals that occurred were
spontaneous and took place in the heat of
battle andthe flush of victory. There were no
mass executions following show trials. In-
deed, the revolutionaries were remarkably
magnanimous to the vanquished members
of the hated National Guard and others.
Measured against most other embattled re-
gimes of both the left and the right in Latin
America and elsewhere, the record of the
FSLN, while far from spotless, is basically

good on the question of repressing political
enemies. The major blemish thus far has
been the regime's dealing with the Miskito
Indians. Even here progress has been
made, as witnessed by Broklyn Rivera's re-
turn to Nicaragua for discussions with the
FSLN in the final days of the electoral
Another dimension to the climate of fear
and intimidation in Nicaragua is produced
by the US-backed contra war and by the
aggressive posturing of the Reagan admin-
istration toward Nicaragua. In the week I was
there, the newspapers were replete with re-
ports of death and destruction directed at
civilians by the contras. Even as the elec-
toral campaign came to a close, a US spy
plane flew over Nicaragua emitting sonic
booms, which could only have been meant
to rattle and intimidate. There is plenty of
culpability to spread around for the climate
of fear and intimidation that exists in
There is good reason to believe as well
that the Reagan administration directly in-
terfered in the elections and did all it could
to promote abstention, first by Cruz and the
Coordinadora, and then by other parties.
Conservative candidate Clemente Guido
specifically charged that the US issued
bribes to him and others in his party. Virgilio
Godoy, of the Independent Liberals (PLI)
explicitly denied that US pressure ac-
counted for his dramatic withdrawal from
the race almost on the eve of the elections,

but in the next breath mentioned that, in the
weeks prior to the elections, he had been
visited by numerous administration officials
such as Undersecretary Motley, special en-
voy Shlaudeman, Ambassador Bergold
and Michael Joyce, head of the embassy's
political section. Indeed, it is hard not to
conclude, along with John B. Oakes in his
op-ed piece in the New York Times that the
"most fraudulent thing about the Nic-
araguan elections was the part the Reagan
administration played in them." Mr. Oakes
also made a telling point when he wrote that
the elections in Nicaragua were a lost op-
portunity for the abstentionist opposition
and the Reagan administration to help es-
tablish democratic institutions in Nic-
aragua, a fact borne out by the electoral

The Results
In my view, the results show at least three
basic things: first, that when all is said and
done, the balloting and the counting were
basically honest; second, that the FSLN,
while the majority party, is far from having
monopoly support; finally, that there was in
fact a good and solid chance for any op-
position groups with real strength to gain a
substantial foothold in the legislative
Some 75 percent of those registered
voted, which by most counts is a more than
respectable turnout. However, given the fact
that the Sandinistas stressed the signifi-


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Volume 58 (1984) includes contributions by, among others, Derek Bickerton,
Bridget Brereton, Stanley Engerman, Neville Hall, lan Hancock, Jerome Handler,
Sidney Mintz, Ransford Palmer, and Michel-Rolph Trouillot. And the greatly ex-
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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 Con-
text of Creolization, and many others.
The "new" NWIG is a must for any committed Caribbeanist. A year's subscrip-
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to: Biltseweg 17,3735 MA Bosch en Duin, Netherlands. (For payment in Dutch
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Published continuously since 1919

chance of the turnout and aimed at a mini-
mum of 80 percent, the actual vote had to
be a blow and a troubling signal. Also, while
some FSLN leaders predicted they would
poll over 80 percent of the vote, they
achieved in fact 67 percent; a not unimpres-
sive performance but still far from the over-
whelming vote of popularity they sought.
Obviously a lot of Nicaraguans are not
happy with the FSLN and the direction it
has taken. Just as obviously, the FSLN did
not stuff the ballot boxes (it would have
been extremely difficult to do technically) or
seek to hide the results by other means of
While the FSLN won the presidential
race, the opposition won 35 seats in the
national assembly, including those of tee six
losing presidential candidates. And of the
opposition seats, most were won by parties
to the right of the FSLN. The crucial point is

that the FSLN does not control the neces-
sary two-thirds majority in the assembly to
dominate the constitution-writing process,
and the opposition has the means to play a
critical role in developing the constitution.
What opportunity indeed did Arturo Cruz
and the Coordinadora pass up? What op-
portunity was in fact lost for the people of
Nicaragua to find a peaceful and demo-
cratic framework within which to pursue its
The Nicaraguan elections of 4 November
were about as fair, competitive and demo-
cratic as anyone of minimal good will and
objectivity could have demanded. The
question now is, will the US government
and groups like the Coordinadora continue
to follow a policy of abstention from the
process in Nicaragua, almost making inev-
itable thereby a steady escalation of conflict
with the FSLN and the increasing pos-

sibility of a direct clash with the United
States? Or will the US back off and encour-
age the opposition to join the process and
help to define the future of the revolution
rather than seek to stop and reverse it? The
first course will almost surely push the
FSLN toward a more repressive mode of
control internally even as they seek more
aid from the Soviet bloc. In short, such a
course by the US and the Coordinadora will
produce a self-fulfilling prophecy. The latter
course of action, while far from offering any
guarantees that things will come out exactly
as the US and the Coordinadora wish, rep-
resents one of a diminishing number of
chances for Nicaragua to determine its po-
litical future in a somewhat peaceful man-
ner. The game is still in progress, and it
remains relatively open; but who is going to
play and by what rules? The answer to that
question now is largely in Washington. O


Passion and

Continued from page 25

the two Koreas: competition for control over
ultimate symbols and values between de-
mocracy and dictatorship. Central Ameri-
can arguments cut to the heart of 20th-
century political symbolism. Only at this
point in geopolitical life does Central Amer-
ica become an item on the agenda of his-
tory. What formerly was an ambiguous area
enters the metaphysical realm, an ideologi-
cal turf in which the resolution of the politi-
cal process links up with global value
What we have unfolding on both sides is
a globalization of regional conflict. Central
America, like the two Germanies and the
two Koreas, has become an area in which
the granite will of the totalitarian Soviet em-
pire has come face to face with this peculiar
pragmatic persuasion of the democratic
American empire. What we are dealing with
then is not so much a question of social
systems, but empire structures. However
strange it may be to link words like empire
and democracy, such connections make
reasonable historical sense. For the choices
before us are not between pure goods and
evils, but imperfect instruments of democ-
racy and perfect instruments of terror.
I doubt that even advanced analysts could
accurately list and describe ten quantitative
measures on which Costa Rica and Nic-
aragua are similar or dissimilar. But such
places as Costa Rica and Nicaragua now

provide settings on which larger political
meanings are played out. The issue is not
whether Costa Rica has a mixed-market
economy and Nicaragua a market-mixed
economy, but rather can a nation sustain a
democratic polity, or any movement toward
an independent polity. Relative unconcern
for pure economic variables has permitted
the United States a relatively easy time with
China. It is not that US government agen-
cies are especially enamored of the Chinese
economy, if one can figure out what that
economy is at any moment; rather, Ameri-
can policymakers have no trouble figuring
out China's political persuasions or its lead-
ers' political postures. The issues at this
level have become increasingly political
and decreasingly economic. Soviet "allies"
such as Ethiopia also show that "socialist"
and feudalistt" systems diminish in the face
of political alliances. The same is the case
for countries such as Nicaragua. Soviet aid,
especially military aid, is the key explana-
tory variable in North American policy.
The one policy caveat that can be carried
away from this with respect to the US gov-
ernment is that the issue of economic sys-
tem is of lesser concern than ideologists
normally impute. Whether an economy in
any given nation is socialist, mixed, feudal,
capitalist, or an economy that cannot be
pegged, may be beneficial but not crucial to
US interests. The touchstone is increasingly
whether a particular nation or sovereign
power in the Western Hemisphere has di-
rect lines out to the Soviet empire, and be-
haves according to its wishes with respect
to military movement of men and materials.
The North-South dialogue remains a

shadow standing in for what we have been
living with for many years: the East-West
The shift in the regional balance of forces
can be appreciated by a simple review of the
numbers. In the face of dwindling, virtually
stagnant arms supply by the United States
to its Central American allies, one must
counterpose the presence of Soviet com-
bat-ready troops in Cuba numbering any-
where from 4,000 to 10,000 and the supply
of Cuban technicians to Nicaragua to the
tune of 3,000 paramilitary personnel. To
gain some sense of relative strengths, one
must appreciate that the armed forces of
Cuba and Nicaragua (265,000) are three
times that of all other Central American na-
tions, and equal to the region as a whole
even if one factors in Colombia, Mexico and
Venezuela. In the soft underbelly of militar-
ism, the dissolution of North-South distinc-
tions becomes plain, in contrast to the
growing parity of East-West forces in Cen-
tral America and the Caribbean.
There is no way of getting around the fact
that the meaning of this new consciousness
of the Americas, of Central America in par-
ticular, is that the region for the first time is
part of world history. Its centrality can no
longer be ignored by the powerful. Hence
East-West deliberations become important
to the relatively powerless. The quiet rage
goes on. Central America is now part of the
struggle for power as a whole. North Ameri-
cans will have come a long way in concep-
tualizing the problem of Central America,
and the solutions possible for the region,
once this new centrality of the region is
firmly and properly registered. E

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1?:^-^^! ^ ^-^^^^-j^ ^1


Central America
Continued from page 27

underwritten by the Friedrich Ebert Foun-
dation of Bonn. Of the chapters offering
explanations of Central American revolu-
tionary movements, Grabendorff's, on the
internationalization of the Central American
crises, offers the most historically precise
answers in concise form. He examines rela-
tionships of Central American nations with
the United States, Cuba, the PLO and with
the Socialist International, but does not dis-
cuss any activities of the Soviet Union in the
Richard E. Feinberg contributes valuable
analysis about US national interests in the
region, clarifying the regionalist perspec-
tive. His feeling is that regionalists are most
comfortable with Christian democracy and
in working with other Central American na-
tions to try to solve security problems. He
reflects an awareness of not only US inter-


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
Winner of the fifth annual award was
C.L.R. James. Previous winners were
Gordon K. Lewis, Philip M. Sherlock, Aimb
CBsaire 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 Andres
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.

ests in Central America, but also the in-
volvement of Mexico and Cuba. Robert
Pastor cites former Mexican President Jos6
L6pez Portillos lectures to Washington on
the need for equitable income distribution
in El Salvador and Nicaragua. Pastor then
questions why Mexico itself isn't in flames if
L6pez Portillds thesis were the sole answer
to Central America's woes. After all, it too
has inequitable income distribution.
Other contributions include a discussion
of the Cuban intervention in Central Amer-
ica by Carla Robbins, Cynthia Arnson's anal-
ysis of the March 1982 Salvadoran election
for a constituent assembly and the par-
ticipation of rightest leader Roberto
D'Aubuisson, a chapter on Nicaragua by
Richard Millett and Donald Castillo Rivas
that dwells on the Somoza period and the
1979 civil war, and Margaret E. Crahan's
examination of the divisions within the
Catholic Church in Central America.

The Schulz-Graham Approach
Donald E. Schulz and Douglas H. Graham's

Scholarly R fl
multidisciplinary U lA
journal H -hU LJ
devoted entirely II
to Cuba S'IIWE

Revolution and Counterrevolution in Cen-
tral America and the Carribean includes
theories of economic and political develop-
ment, elites, the domino phenomenon, and
a section on the United States as a de-
stabilizing force.
Mark B. Rosenberg provides background
on Honduras, including political problems
engendered by the influx of refugees from
Nicaragua, El Salvador and Guatemala.
Dennis Hanratty's chapter on Mexican pol-
icy toward Central America deals with the
ambivalence of Mexican presidents towards
Salvadoran guerrillas and the government.
Robert Leiken, himself an editor of a volume
on Central America published in 1984, dis-
cusses Soviet and Cuban policy in the Car-
ibbean basin, delineating the Sovietization
of Cuba and Suriname's Desi Bouterse's
links to Grenada in 1982. Wayne Smith and
Penny Lernoux are also contributors.

A Berkeley Book
As the Central American crisis continues, a
veritable explosion of information cam-

dedicada por entero
a Cuba

Cuban Studies/Estudios Cubanos is published twice a year by the University of
Pittsburgh's Center for Latin American Studies. Each issue includes articles
relevant to contemporary themes, with summaries in Spanish and English, plus
book reviews, a classified bibliography of recent publications, an inventory of
current research, and an author index.

Annual Subscriptions: $10-individuals; $20-institutions
Back Issues: $5.50-individuals; $10.50-institutions

Prepayment requested;
please make checks payable to:
University of Pittsburgh.

University of Pittsburgh
Center for Latin American Studies
4E04 Forbes Quadrangle
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15260


Laguerre. Tr. from Spanish by William
Rose. Intro. by Dr. Estelle Irizarry. A grip-
ping novel based on life in the Dominican
Republic under the Trujillo dictatorship.
Praised by The New Republic as "a sym-
bolic study of the effects of power." 1984,
290 pp. Cloth: WP-11-6, $18.95. Paper:
WP-12-4, $8.95.

Pietri. After the world premiere of this
one-act comedy in New York in 1984 the
Village Voice called it "a real tour de force
... the product of a genuine satirical tal-
ent:' 1984, 84 pp. Cloth; WP-13-2, $13.95.
Paper: WP-14-0, $6.95.

Pietri. A new volume of poetry by the
acclaimed author of "Puerto Rican Obitu-
ary." Contains 80 poems, including "I
Hate Trees," a 16-page elegy called "a
masterpiece" by Library Journal. 1983,
120 pp. Cloth: WP-05-1, $12.95. Paper:
WP-06-x, $7.95.

LA CHARCA. By Manuel Zeno-Gandia.
Tr. from Spanish by Kal Wagenheim. In-
tro. by Juan Flores. Set in Puerto Rico's
mountains in the 1860s, this novel is con-

sidered a classic of 19th Century Latin
American literature. 1982, 216 pp. Cloth:
WP-03-5, $18.95. Paper: WP-04-3, $10.

VoL I, 19th Century. By Harold J. Lidin.
Fwd. by Robert W. Anderson. The first
concise history, in English, of Puerto
Rico's independence movement, from its
beginning up to 1899.1982, 212 pp. Paper:
WP-00-0, $10.

TURN, Barry B. Levine. Using the
first-person technique pioneered by Oscar
Lewis, this noted sociologist records and
analyzes the life story of a Puerto Rican
emigrant, "one of the most colorful charac-
ters to make an appearance in sociological
literature." 202 pp. BB-1. Cloth, $9.95.

Send orders to: Waterfront Press, 52
Maple Ave., Maplewood, N.J. 07040. Pay-
ment in full must accompany all orders
except those from libraries or public in-
stitutions providing these are on official
forms or stationery. Ask for our free cata-
logue, listing more than 200 titles in the
area of Puerto Rican studies.

paigns on behalf of foreign governments has
grown in the United States. Some volumes
simply tell the perspective of Mexico, Brazil,
West Germany, Poland, Japan or Cuba; oth-
ers attempt to interpret the world through
their perception of the United States.
The Politics of Intervention, edited by
Roger Burbach and Patricia Flynn of the
Center for the Study of the Americas in
Berkeley, falls into the latter category. There
is a need for a genuinely scholarly book by
Marxists on how Cubans and Sandinistas
communicate, cooperate, differ or adminis-
ter their programs. There is a need for leftist
writers to document how Salvadoran guer-
rillas are funded, trained and maintained,
and how the rival fronts manage to hold a
political umbrella over their internal argu-
ments. Instead, we have here seven chap-
ters by six Latin Americanists who dwell on
their perceptions of how US policy is formu-
lated. Their analyses display an emotion
which seems to preclude insight. Our refer-
ence needs would be better served if such
writers dealt at length with the socialist en-
tities with which they are familiar. O

available in microform
from University

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New and Recent Titles


Waterfront Press

First Impressions

Critics Look at the New Literature

Compiled by Forrest D. Colburn

Cuban Hippocrisy
The Health Revolution in Cuba, Sergio
Diaz-Briquets. 227 p. University of Texas
Press, Austin, 1983. $19.95.

The Health Revolution in Cuba does not
focus on the revolutionary government's
policies and accomplishments in the health
field. In fact, the revolution that is the focus
of this work largely took place before 1959.
While there is some analysis of more recent
mortality conditions, Diaz-Briquets' em-
phasis is on the period from 1899 to 1953
when Cuba, in his words, "attained one of
the most favorable mortality levels in the
developing world." It is precisely the use of
that broader historical perspective that is
the greatest contribution of this work.
Only in the context of prerevolutionary
Cuba's mortality trends can one hope to
arrive at solid conclusions about the revolu-
tion's contribution to the health of the
Cuban population. Those conclusions are
not inconsequential in the ongoing debate
about the Cuban revolution, since improve-
ments in health and mortality conditions
are at the forefront of the social benefits that
are claimed to justify the great costs of the
In the introduction and conclusion, Diaz-
Briquets places the Cuban experience in an
international context, casting it as a case
study of John Durand's three-phased mor-
tality transition model. For example, he
wrestles with an issue that has long been of
interest in population studies: the relative
importance to declining mortality of so-
cioeconomic conditions versus imported
medical technology. Some comparisons
are made between Cuba and other nations,
and the author concludes that Cuba's mor-
tality decline has much in common with the
experience of many other developing na-
tions with similar patterns of socio-
economic development.
Only one chapter deals with the issue of
greatest interestto most readers: the revolu-
tion's impact on health and mortality. Can
the revolution take credit (as it has) for the
relatively low levels of mortality (life expec-
tancy is currently around 72) that Cubans
enjoy today? The answers that have usually
been given to that question reflect the polar-
ized debate that has surrounded socialist
Cuba. Diaz-Briquets, however, takes the

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

middle ground. His honest analysis of this
complex issue does not permit an une-
quivocal answer. The data show that prior to
the revolution Cuba had already achieved
levels of life expectancy substantially above
those of most developing nations and at the
forefront of Latin America. It therefore can-
not be said that the revolution rescued Cuba
from the "depths" of underdevelopment, at
least not in the areas of morbidity and mor-
tality. Life expectancy has a natural ceiling,
and the closer a population gets to it, the
harder it becomes to make further improve-
ments. With a life expectancy around 60 in
1959, the revolution's programs in the
health field, no matter how sweeping and
comprehensive, did not have much room
for spectacular improvements. But Diaz-
Briquets also notes that one area in which
substantial improvements were possible,
and were indeed achieved, was in overcom-
ing the severe socioeconomic and rural-
urban differentials that were the legacy of
the republican era. Improving the health
conditions of previously marginal sectors of
the population was a major reason for the
increases in life expectancy that took place
during the late 1960s and 1970s.
This is a book for Caribbeanists as well as
demographers. It is carefully done. In terms
of subject matter, it is a refreshing departure
from the usual fare on Cuba.
Louisiana State University
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
Haitian Errors
Haiti. Political Failures, Cultural
Successes, Brian Weinstein and Aaron
Segal. 175 p. Praeger, New York, 1984.
This volume is short on original thinking
and new ideas but does offer an easily read
brief history of the world's first black re-
public and the second independent country
in the Western Hemisphere. It is especially
useful as a general introduction to the coun-
try, but of limited value to the student of
Haiti. The book was written well before the
recent unprecedented demonstrations in
several Haitian cities for food and against
the Duvalier regime. But the authors' gen-
eral observation on the fitful liberalization
efforts undertaken by President-for-Life
Jean-Claude Duvalier remain relevant. They
note that reform efforts are aimed at foreign
aid donors and "involve limited political
risks while drawing some favorable domes-

tic and foreign response." They add that
"these gestures often provoke more of a
response than the regime wants." That is
precisely what happened this spring. The
authors, correctly, also observe that the re-
gime's "reaction to any uncontrolled dis-
sent, no matter how mild, is to retreat to the
zero-sum rules of Haitian politics and to act
harshly and quickly to end the perceived
threat." That it did again this spring with its
crackdown on the independent journals
and their publishers who had cautiously be-
gun to test the latest "liberalization" effort.
Particularly irritating are the numerous ty-
pographical errors. One hopes it is that-
and not a loose check of the facts-that
accounts for erroneous independence
dates for Suriname and Jamaica that ap-
pear in the same sentence on page 152.
The Miami Herald
Miami, Florida
Dual Identity
Afro-Hispanic Poetry 1940-1980: From
Slavery to "Negritud" in South American
Verse, Marvin A. Lewis. 190 p. University
of Missouri Press, Columbia, 1983.
The title of this book-Marvin Lewis's sec-
ond-is particularly felicitous. It reaffirms
the existence of a viable and vibrant new
field of literary scholarship, Afro-Hispanic
literature, and announces the addition of a
major book to the fast-growing list of works
in Afro-Hispanic literary criticism. Seeking
the indispensable cohesive theoretical an-
chor for his overviews, Lewis has turned
mostly to sociological considerations, es-
tablishing the plight of black South Ameri-
cans from various countries as the basis of
the aesthetic unity he uncovers in their po-
etry. The inherent problem persists, how-
ever: Nine major poets from four countries
have to be covered in a book of under 200
Because of its sociological focus, the
non-Latin American reader will find Lewis's
book particularly useful. With sensitivity
and scholarly courage, he exposes the raw
wounds in South American society that
have been caused by the same racism that
is generally acknowledged only in the
"neighbor to the north." He shows how the
common scourge of racism has helped to
knit a cohesive black aesthetic, a negritud,
in the nine poets studied.
All in all, the book is an excellent text for


all survey courses in Latin American litera-
ture, sociology or culture. Of course it is
indispensable reading for all students of
Afro-Hispanic literature. Marvin A. Lewis is
a young but greatly experienced scholar,
who has joined a small group of pioneers in
a field that promises much for the not-too-
distant future.
Howard University
Washington, D.C.

Slaying the Dragon
Monsieur Toussaint, Edouard Glissant.
Translated by Joseph G. Foster, Barbara A.
Franklin and Juris Silenieks. 130 p. Three
Continents Press, Washington D.C., 1982.

The circumstances that made possible the
rise and fall of the charismatic leader of the
revolution of Saint Domingue prevail again
in the Caribbean. Edouard Glissant is, after
Aim6 Cesaire, the second contempo-
rary Martiniquais writer to be seduced by
the extraordinary figure of Toussaint
In the introduction to this English-lan-
guage edition, Juris Silenieks mentions
only a few of the numerous writers, both
French and English, who have been fasci-
nated by the black French general whose
great dream became a reality. A name not
mentioned is Jean P Brierre, Haitian poet
and dramatist. His L'Adieu b la Marseillaise
portrays a similar view of Toussaint
LOuverture. Both pay tribute to the strate-
gist, the diplomat and the man in a manner I
would call didactic. Both are poet and
Glissant uses the license of modern dra-
matic poetry when the cell of the Joux Fort
in the Jura (France), where Toussaint is
chained under the most severe guard, is
nevertheless opened on a plantation in
Saint Domingue. And the dead heroes
called up by the voudou priestess are there
to forward the prophetic orders of the pris-
oner: "Brothers and friends, I am Toussaint
LOuverture. My name has perhaps be-
come known to you. I have undertaken re-
venge. I want freedom and equality to reign
in San Domingo. I am working to bring
them into existence. Brothers, unite with us,
and fight for the same cause."
All the conflicts and contradictions of the
revolution are present in the monologue-
dialogue when the priestess calls up the
African gods and answers her own ques-
tions: "Fire, oh just fire god of fire / Like
freedom you burn in our hearts / In our
breasts we have cleared / A forest for free-
dom. / The papers do not speak for us. / Oh
just god of the sun, protect us / I climbed
into the cannon's mouth / Behold, the can-
non did not kill me / Those who fall go to
Guinea. / We must march onward to
It is interesting to note the difference in

treatment of the complex historical domin-
guois dilemma between Glissant and
Brierre-even though their conclusions are
similar. The Haitian evokes a mythical past
and delivers an eloquent civic lesson. The
Martiniquais seems to portray the present-
day political figures of his country until Des-
salines takes over to talk on behalf of Tous-
saint "Remember. Those who fall will go to
Africa. Commander Toussaint is in Africa,
preparing an army for the deliverance of our
brothers. Those who fall will meet Toussaint
and fight under his orders." (To Christo-
pher) "Be quiet. I command. You fight. But it
is Toussaint who leads us."
Glissant's Monsieur Toussaint is a des-
salinian call to arms. It is an epic into which
the playwright has turned a true story, ac-
cording to Cheik Ndads prescription, "mak-
ing history more historical."
Miami, Florida

Sadists and Sycophants
The Road to OPEC: United States
Relations with Venezuela, 1919-1976.
Stephen G. Rabe. 262 pp. University of
Texas Press, Austin, 1982.

Dictator Juan Vincente G6mez opened wide
his arms and Venezuela's huge hydrocar-
bon reserves to foreign firms in the 1920s.
These companies took full advantage of his
largess. While paying "succulent commis-
sions" to the sadistic despot and his syc-
ophants, the oilmen-aided and abetted by
the US government-poured in capital to
spark a boom that converted the country
from an ugly stepsister to a dazzling Cin-
derella of the international petroleum world.
By 1928 Venezuela exported more crude oil
than any other nation and ranked second to
the United States in production, with an
annual output of 106 billion barrels.
In The Road to OPEC, Professor Rabe
presents a meticulously researched and
carefully written account of the develop-
ment of Venezuela's black gold, emphasiz-
ing the role of both US firms and the US
government in the process. He stresses the
indelible imprint of G6mez's exploitation
years on the "Generation of '28," university
students during the latter years of his rule;
the subsequent political leadership gave
impulse to Venezuela's nationalistic energy
This nationalism took many forms:
higher wages for petroleum workers, a
"50-50" tax split between the government
and foreign corporations, the replacement
of North Americans with Venezuelans in
staff and executive positions in the pe-
troleum sector, leadership in the formation
of the Organization of Petroleum Exporting
Countries, whose founding father was Vene-
zuelan Juan Pablo P6rez Alfonso, and the
nationalization of the petroleum industry on
1 January 1976.

Better accounts exist of the development
of Venezuelan oil policy; namely, Franklin
Tugwell's The Politics of Oil in Venezuela
and a splendid chapter in George Philip's Oil
and Politics in Latin America. Yet despite a
somewhat misleading though eye-catching
title, Rabe's volume contains a trenchant
analysis of US-Venezuelan affairs, empha-
sizing how black gold has animated,
shaped, and-at times-embittered bilat-
eral relations.
College of William and Mary
Williamsburg, Virginia

Devil's Geography
Al norte del inferno, Miguel Correa.
120 p. Editorial SIBI, Miami, 1983.

This is a testimonial novel written with a
technique seldom used in this kind of fic-
tion. There are no characters, no plot and
little time sequence. It is basically a collage
of voices forming a sort of mosaic. The
voices constitute in turn a form of mono-
logue based on a stream-of-consciousness
discourse. The setting and time, however,
are quite clear: Castros Cuba circa 1980
and in the US after that date.
The author, about three years old when
Fidel Castro took power, came to the United
States via the Mariel boatlift. Correa is thus a
product of the 1959 Cuban revolution, but
he is far from being the hombre nuevo
dreamed of by Che Guevara. In fact his vi-
sion of this revolution is negative. Nothing
created or done after 1959 seems to be
positive for this "prodigal son" of Castroism,
not even the hospitals, schools or sports
successes. His strong dislike for the living
conditions in Cuba appears to be the leit
motif of the novel-possibly its central
theme-but his dislikes are not limited to
the conditions on the island. Correa also
criticizes what he personally, and the mar-
ielitos as a group, have discovered in the
US: a country perceived as the new el do-
rado and later found to be only quan-
titatively better than the "hell" located ninety
miles to the south.
Miguel Correa has accomplished a tour
de force in that his story, rather stories,
grasp the reader's attention from the very
beginning and do not release it until the
very end. It is not pleasant reading, however.
On the contrary, the text reflects the internal
anguish of the unknown characters and
contributes to the development of what is
known in the literary trade as the centripetal
movement of the novel; in other words, the
text deeply involves the reader in the fiction.
The book has no pretense of being objec-
tive. After all, Marxism teaches that bour-
geois objectivity is a myth, and in this sense
Correa's book is the typical negative out-
come of socialist realism. If one thinks of
Correa's education and life experience, this


comes as no surprise. His lack of interest in
the search for objectivity could make his
truth appear to be a lie with respect to a
public used to critical realism. The forego-
ing conclusion should not be construed as
saying that Miguel Correa has written a
novel of thesis following the models of
Gald6s, Pardo-Bazhn, Carlos Lobeira, etc.,
and that he is incapable of criticizing his
own people. The boat people from Mariel
are not eulogized, and their shortcomings
and narrowmindedness are clearly shown
or, if one prefers, exposed. This feature is
what really balances the work.
Florida International University

El Tercermundismo, Carlos Rangel. 286
p. Monte Avila Editores, Caracas, 1982. 50
Carlos Rangel's new book extends to the
Third World an analysis already conducted
on Latin America (Del buen salvaje al buen
revolucionario), for which he has been ac-
claimed and villified. Third worldism for
Rangel is based on the proposition that the
backwardness of underdeveloped coun-
tries, as well as the progress of developed
countries, are due to the imperialist exploi-
tation of the latter by the former and to the
resulting negative effects of dependency.
Such a proposition carries with it implicitly
an argument in favor of radical forms of
socialism as the only way to break the
shackles of "neocolonialism."
Before critiquing the basic assumptions
of "third worldism," Rangel reviews the his-
tory and accomplishments offered to the
world by "real" socialism. Soviet reality ap-
pears today, he says, (and that revelation is
accepted even by some European commu-
nist parties) as a "mixture of a hated politi-
cal and ideological repression with poor
internal economic results and a brutal im-
perialism in the external sector...." He ar-
gues that while significant progress has
been made in health, social security and
education, it is abusive to affirm that such
achievements are exclusively a characteris-
tic of socialism since higher levels in these
sectors have been achieved by nonsocialist
According to Rangel, the socialist road
out of underdevelopment has also led to the
monopolistic holding of all the means of
social production and communication by a
new class that every day responds less to
the needs of the people. He argues that the
power and means of control which Marxism
places at the disposition of many leaders of
the Third World, plus the dialectical instru-
ments which facilitate the juggling of facts
and reality into a comprehensive, simple-
minded set of answers to the problems of
Third World societies, is an irresistible
temptation not only to power-driven indi-

viduals but to originally well-intentioned
Third World elites. For these political elites,
socialism is a visceral reflex to the social,
cultural and economic consequences of the
market economy, an understandable hostil-
ity against an economic and social system
within which their countries have suffered a
traumatic and often humiliating shock.
Rangel argues that less than 200 years
ago, no society on the planet questioned the
inevitability of poverty, hunger and igno-
rance. The destruction of the ancient regime
by the capitalist system has in effect, as
Marx predicted, brought about moderniz-
ing changes and previously unimaginable
expectations; but since these have only par-
tially been achieved, the "subjective sensa-
tion" is that of having lost something
valuable and irreplaceable without sufficient
compensation. That, according to the au-
thor, is the real misery caused by the West
for the Third World.
He argues that solutions to under-
development will not be found until there is
a sincere and profound search for its root
causes. Third World leaders and their sup-
porters will have to stop blaming their back-
wardness on Western development. Sys-
tematic attention must be directed to
cultural, geographical, climatic and socio-
political variables and their impact on eco-
nomic development prior, during and after
the first contact of those societies with the
In the end, according to Rangel, the at-
traction that the Third World feels for social-
ism is reactionary. Utopisms of which third
worldism and Marxist socialism are just two
examples are usually perceived as morally
virtuous and politically desirable, regard-
less of the political aberrations which they
have generated in practice. Liberal thought,
on the other hand, suffers the stigma of
being based on the understanding that man
is imperfect, with the need to create a sys-
tem for resolving conflicts.
Florida International University

Theological Opium
El pensamiento Cristiano revolucionario
en America Latina y el Caribe. Samuel
Silva Gotay. 375 pp. Ediciones Sigueme,
Salamanca, 1981.

This volume argues that the emerging role
of the liberation church as a revolutionary
force in Latin America necessitates a
reformulation of the Marxist critique of re-
ligion. Silva both explains the historical and
social forces that have led to articulation of
liberation theology and assesses the
thought of its exponents.
Silva's description of liberation theology's
development centers upon the experiences
of populism and modernization in Latin
America since the Second World War. He
weaves together the disenchantment with

developmentalism, the sterility of Moscow-
controlled communist parties, and the ro-
mantic insurrectionism of the Latin Ameri-
can left after Castro's triumph until the death
of Che Guevara in 1967. Matching these
trends were the development of a Christian-
Marxist dialogue in Europe and the impact
of the sweeping changes of the Second Vat-
ican Council. This was the context for the
abandonment by many young native Latin
American clergy of Catholic Action as the
"third way" between capitalism and so-
cialism. Eventually, some clergy called for
collaboration between Christians and revo-
lutionaries as a more direct means of end-
ing injustice.
The author does not romanticize his sub-
ject. While his personal sentiments are
clearly in favor of a revolutionary Christian
approach to social justice, Silva Gotay ac-
knowledges that although liberation the-
ology is uniquely Latin American, it is not
the dominant religious ideology there. Nor
does he posit Marxist revolution as a re-
ligious goal, citing the Cuban theologian
Sergio Arce that revolution is "a necessary
but not a sufficient condition" for achieving
the goals of Latin American Christianity.
Brooklyn College, City University
Brooklyn, New York

Benign Neglect
Avonturen aan de Wilde Kust. Albert
Helman. 208 pp. A. W. Sijthott (Alphen
a/d Rijn), Netherlands, 1982.

This book's title, Adventures on the Wild
Coast, sounds like something in the tradi-
tion of Stevenson's Treasure Island. Start-
ing with a popular framework of historical
facts, the author renders a highly readable
and well-composed history of Suriname, a
tiny country with less than half a million
inhabitants which, nevertheless, continues
to have a disproportionate impact on hemi-
spheric events.
From the beginning of its colonization,
the Dutch arduously organized overseas ex-
peditions-most of which were fitted out by
Zeelanders. Helman rightly gives honor
where honor is due: the patriarchal figure of
Aert (or Adriaen) Groenewegen towers over
these early Dutch expeditions. Less empha-
sized, however, is the constant rivalry and
bickering between the Hollanders and the
Zeelanders throughout the 17th and 18th
centuries which culminated in the demise of
the Zeelanders as a colonial force.
King Sugar and King Cotton dominated
the country's 18th century, and fortunes
were made by the whites at the expense of
the blacks. Slavery, maroonage, it is all
there, accompanied by illustrations most of
which are fantasies created by artists who
never set foot in the country--John Gabriel
Stedman being one of the laudable


Helman correctly blames the large-scale
introduction of Hindustani and Javanese
into the labor force for upsetting the pre-
carious balance of Suriname's colonial soci-
ety and for laying the foundation for 20th
century civil strife. He also states con-
clusively that, up until World War II, Sur-
iname enjoyed years of benign neglect by a
mother country less intent upon the well-
being of what was often called its "twelfth
After 1945 everything changed. Bauxite
propelled Suriname into the foreground of
raw material suppliers for the United States.
Industrialization and the subsequent rise of
labor as a political force provided a new
dimension to the country's development.
King Sugar and King Cotton were de-
throned and other avenues to progress be-
came popular-with the Brokopondo
project emerging as a prime example of
efficient cooperation with the mother coun-
try. It was only a matter of time before the
political bonds were loosened and, in 1975,
Suriname became fully independent.
The Hague, Netherlands

Caribbean Cult Cultures
Obeah, Christ and Rastaman: Jamaica
and its Religion. Ivor Morrish. 122 pp.
James Clark, Cambridge, England, 1982.
This is an interesting and potentially useful
little book, filled with historical tidbits on
the evolution of Jamaican society from the
aboriginal beginnings, through the culture
of slavery and oppression, and up to the
present state of political uncertainty. Much
of this information, however, is so com-
pressed as to invite distortion. For instance,
only a few lines are devoted to Marcus
Garvey in spite of the centrality of his ideas
to the structure of resistance in Jamaican
society, especially to the origin and devel-
opment of Rastafarianism.
Morrish's aim is to provide a brief over-
view of religious pluralism in Jamaica. But
his research highlights what many of us
have long suspected about religious plu-
ralism in Jamaica (and elsewhere in the
Caribbean for that matter), namely that the
proliferation of cults in the region owes
much to two fundamental circumstances of
black servitude: first, the failure of Chris-
tianity to provide the displaced Africans
with a satisfactory religious life; and second,
the sheer confusion experienced by these
Africans in having to confront myriad ver-
sions of Christianity while at the same time
seeking to resist their lot and to recreate
and/or preserve as much of their cultural
heritage as possible in the New World. As
the author notes, all forms of assembly, in-
cluding religious meetings, were forbidden
for blacks during slavery, and they were not
in any way encouraged to involve them-
selves in religious worship, whether African

or Christian.
The refusal of European masters to rec-
ognize slaves, even after emancipation, as
being worthy of participating fully in Chris-
tianity resulted in the persistence and devel-
opment of a number of African cults which
exist today in Jamaica. If that is correct, then
nothing better illustrates the idea of culture
as praxis-the idea that human beings ac-
tively and creatively respond to the social
and physical world, and eventually make
sense of it. The author claims to have dis-
covered 127 different denominations, sects
and individual churches with their own
names and titles. Among these are
pocomania, forms of revivalism, cumina,
obeah, nine-night ceremony, John Canoe
celebrations and myalism. Many clearly
have African origins and forms. Although a
long discussion is devoted to the
Rastafarians, the author does not deliver any
new insight on this movement, in spite of
the fact that of all the groups talked about,
none has a more pronounced religious
culture than the Rastafarians. However, the
chapter on them does register that the
movement has political, economic, social
and religious implications.
Morrish's overall conclusion is a conser-
vative, even a disappointing one. He utilizes
Bryan Wilson's well-known seven-fold ty-
pology to structure and make sense of his
collection of sects, and concludes that the
great variety of churches in Jamaica help,
among them, to fulfill the religious, cultural
and social needs of the people, even if the
most profound role of the church is its
therapeutic and cathartic one. "To most Ja-
maicans religion represents a mode of with-
drawing from the somewhat hopeless
social and economic deprivation that they
suffer, into the compensatory warmth and
fellowship of the small chapel hall or the
larger church assembly." Now, even as a
straightforward sociological observation,
this seems a strong confirmation of what
Marx long ago reasoned: religion is poten-
tially the opiate of the masses. Simply by
setting the stage for this deduction, the
book provides a service to its readers.
University of Prince Edward Island

Rican Richness
From Colonia to Community: The History
of Puerto Ricans in New York City,
1917-1948. Virginia Sanchez Korrol. 242
pp. Greenwood Press, Westport, CT 1983.
Sanchez Korrol limits her discussion of the
Puerto Rican community to the period
ranging from 1917-1948, a period usually
ignored or superficially dealt with in pre-
vious studies of Puerto Rican migration.
Most scholars have failed to recognize the
importance and impact of the early settle-
ments, or colonies, and the support sys-

teams they developed in defining and
reinforcing a sense of community that
would pave the way for the great post-World
War II migration. SAnchez Korrol provides
us with an amply documented account of
who these migrants were, the factors that
contributed to pushing them out of their
native land and pulling them to America,
the kinds of community organizations they
developed, the role that women played in
sustaining the early community, and the ex-
tent to which migrants participated in the
political process.
The dates 1917 and 1948 mark two cru-
cial events in Puerto Rican history: the im-
position of American citizenship on Puerto
Ricans with the passage of the Jones Act by
the US Congress in 1917, and the election
in 1948 of Luis Mufioz Marin as the first
elected Puerto Rican governor of the island.
These two events were crucial catalysts to
the Puerto Rican migratory movement to
the United States: American citizenship
greatly faciliated migration, and Operation
Bootstrap, an economic program of Muiioz
Marin's administration, led to the rapid in-
dustrialization of the island and displaced
thousands of rural workers who eventually
went to the United States in search of
Most studies of the Puerto Rican mi-
gratory experience focus on the problems
that led to it and those created by it. One
hears very little about the energy and en-
durance of the early migrants and how they
tried to create the necessary cultural cohe-
sion to stand up to the often hostile environ-
ment-the persistent discrimination and
social inequality of the host society. Using a
mixture of oral history and more conven-
tional primary sources, this study docu-
ments the buildup of an active community
network that served as a support system to
uprooted migrants and facilitated their ini-
tial adjustment to the new environment. It
also examines the role of women in the work
force and in strengthening communal
bonds by taking in boarders and providing
child care for other working mothers. Thus it
contributes to the process of reevaluating
our past by recognizing women as active
makers of history rather than as passive
From Colonia to Community lays the
groundwork and presents a challenge for
further research on the history of the Puerto
Rican community in the United States after
1948. Now that there is a well-defined sec-
ond generation of Puerto Ricans born and
raised here, the recording of such history
becomes even more compelling. This book
fills a gap in the understanding of the early
community which inevitably leads us to re-
consider past interpretations or assump-
tions about the present community.

State University of New York
Albany, New York


Recent Books

On the Region and Its Peoples

Compiled by Marian Goslinga

Anthropology and Sociology

American Odyssey: Haitians in New York City.
Michel S. Laguerre. Cornell University Press,
1984. 198 p. $29.95; $9.95 paper.

Between Struggle and Hope: The Nicaraguan
Literacy Crusade. Valerie Lee Miller. Westview
Press, 1984. 272 p. $30.00; $13.95 paper.

The Chicano Experience: An Alternative
Perspective. Alfredo Mirand6. University of
Notre Dame Press, 1985. 272 p. $19.95;
$8.95 paper.

Child Rearing and Family Organization
Among Puerto Ricans in Eastville, El Barrio
de Nueva York. Joan R Mencher. AMS Press,
1985. $57.50. [Thesis-Columbia University.]

Costumes of Mexico. Chlo9 Sayer. University
of Texas Press, 1984. 208 p. $29.95;
$18.95 paper.

Cultura y modernizacibn en America Latina.
Pedro Morandes. Institute de Sociologia,
Universidad de Chile, 1984. 181 p.

Death is for All: Death and Death Related
Beliefs of Rural Spanish-Americans. Juli E.
Skansie. AMS Press, 1985. $34.00. [Reprint of
1974 ed.]

Developing Latin America: A Modernization
Perspective. Pradip K. Ghosh, ed. Greenwood
Press, 1984. $45.00.

Las entrahas del vacio: ensayos sobre la
modernidad hispanoamericana. Evelyn Pic6n
Garfield, Ivan A. Schulman. Ediciones
Cuadernos Americanos (Mexico), 1984. 196 p.

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

La Familia: Chicano Families in the Urban
Southwest, 1848 to the Present. Richard G.
Del Castillo. University of Notre Dame Press,
1984. 224 p. $18.95; $7.97 paper.

La familiar y la educacibn del venezolano.
Orlando Albornoz. Universidad Central de
Venezuela, 1984. 294 p.

Formas de sociedad y economic en
Hispanoamerica. Jose Carlos Chiaramonte.
Editorial Grijalbo (Mexico), 1984. 279 p.

Marian Goslinga is the Latin American and
Caribbean Librarian at Florida International

From Slavery to Vagrancy in Brazil: Crime and
Social Control in the Third World. Marha
Knisely Huggins. Rutgers University Press,
1984. 190 p. $25.00.


Getting Ahead Collectively: Grassroots
Experiences in Latin America. Albert 0.
Hirschman. Pergamon Press, 1984. 101 p.

Hacienda Pueblo: The Development of a
Guadalajaran Suburb. Kathleen Logan.
University of Alabama Press, 1984. 141 p.
Heralds of a New Reformation: The Poor of
South and North America. Millard Richard
Shaull. Orbis Books, 1984. 140 p. $8.95.

HispanoamErica. JuliHn Marias. Alianza
Editorial (Buenos Aires, Argentina), 1984.
253 p.

Human Rights in Socialist Cuba. Nelson R
Vald6s, Marshall R. Nason. Westview Press,
1985. 300 p. $30.00.

Latin Journey: A Longitudinal Study of Cuban
and Mexican Immigrants in the United States.
Alejandro Portes, Robert L. Bach. University of
California Press, 1984. 432 p. $45.00;
$11.95 paper.

Maria Reiche y los dioses de Nazca. Clorinda
Caller lb6rico. Editorial Horizonte (Lima Peru),
1984. 192 p. [English and Spanish.]

La medicine populaire b la Guadaloupe.
Christiane Bougerol. Karthala (Paris, France),
1984. 90F.

Migrant in the City: The Life of a Puerto Rican
Action Group. Loyd H. Rogler. Waterfront Press
(Maplewood, NJ.), 1984. 251 p. $9.95. [Reprint
of 1972 ed.]

La mujer en las cooperatives agropecuarias en
Nicaragua. Centro de Investigaciones y
Estudios de la Reforma Agraria. CIERA
(Managua, Nicaragua), 1984. 167 p.

Peinture et sculpture en Martinique. Rene
Louise. Editions Caribeennes (Paris, France),
1984. 150 p. 60F.

Protestantism in Central America. Wilton M.
Nelson. Eerdmans (Grand Rapids, Mich.),
1984. 96 p. $4.95.

The Puerto Rican Migrants of New York City.
Manuel Alers-Montalvo. AMS Press, 1985.

The Puerto Rican Struggle: Essays on
Survival in the U.S. Clara E. Rodriguez, et al.
2d ed. Waterfront Press (Maplewood, NJ.),

Sintesis de la etnomfisica en America Latina.
Isabel Aretz. Monte Avila Editores (Caracas,
Venezuela), 1984. 338 p.

Sobre la identidad iberoamericana. Jose Luis
de Imaz. Editorial Sudamericana (Buenos
Aires, Argentina), 1984. 386 p.

Treasures of Darkness: Meet the Caribl Minnie
Pearman. Todd & Honeywell (Great Neck, N.Y.),
1984. 144 p. $8.95.

Treatise on the Heathen Superstitions and
Customs That Today Live Among the Indians
Native to This New Spain, 1629. Hernando
Ruiz de Alarc6n; J. Richard Andrews, Ross
Hassig, trans. University of Oklahoma
Press, 1984. 540 p. $48.50.

Le voudou haitien. Alfred M6traux. Gallimard
(Paris, France), 1984. [Reprint of 1931 ed.]

The West Indians in Britain. Dave Saunders.
David & Charles, 1984. 72 p. $14.95.


Agrarian Warlord: Saturnino Cedillo and
the Mexican Revolution in San Luis Potosi.
Dudley Anderson. Northern Illinois University
Press, 1984. 435 p. $32.00.

Eden Pastora: un cero en la historic. Roberto
Bardini. Universidad Aut6noma de Puebla
(Mexico), 1984. 141 p.

Eduardo Frei: el hombre de la patria joven.
Guillermo Blanco. Institute Chileno de Estudios
Humanisticos, 1984. 121 p.

Evita: quien quiera oir, que oiga. Eduardo
Mignogna. Legasa (Buenos Aires, Argentina),
1984. 125 p.

Getting to Know the General: The Story of an
Involvement. Graham Greene. Simon and
Schuster, 1984. 192 p. $14.95. [Omar Torrijos.]


Joel Roberts Poinsett: agent
norteamericano, 1810-1814. Guillermo
Gallardo. Emec6 Editores (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 318 p.

Pancho Villa and John Reed: Two Faces of
Romantic Revolution. Jim Tuck. University of
Arizona Press, 1984. 256 p. $16.95.

Rosas y su tempo. Waldo Ansaldi, ed. Centro
Editor de America Latina (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 94 p.

Salvador Witness: The Life and Calling of
Jean Donovan. Ana Carrigan. Simon and
Schuster, 1984. 320 p. $16.95.

Yrigoyen: su pensamiento escrito. Gabriel del
Mazo, ed. Pequen Editores (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984.210 p.

Description and Travel

Argonautas de la selva: los descubridores del
Amazonas. Leopoldo Benites Vinueza. Fondo
de Cultura Econ6mica (Mexico), 1984. 304 p.
[Reprint of 1945 ed.]

The Costa Rica Traveller. Ellen Searby.
Windham Bay Press (Juneau, Alaska), 1984.

Getting to Know Our Southern Neighbor.
Chauncey L. Thornburg. Vantage Press, 1984.

Guadeloupe: la route des fleurs. L. Gusthheau,
Philippe Thbbaud. Editions Caribeennes (Paris,
France), 1984. 142 p. 95F

Images of Puerto Rico. Roger A. LaBrucherie.
Imagenes Press (El Centro, Calif.), 1984. 144 p.
$25.00. [Also available in Spanish.]

Jacques Cousteau's Amazon Journey.
Jacques Cousteau, Mose Richards. Abrams,
1984. 240 p. $35.00.

Journey Along the Spine of the Andes.
Christopher Portway. Haynes Publications
(Newbury Park, Calif.), 1984. 217 p. $12.95.

Michael's Guide to South America. Michael
Schichor. Hippocrene Books, 1984.360 p.

Seven Days in Nicaragua Libre. Lawrence
Ferlinghetti. City Lights Books (San Francisco,
Calif.), 1984. 112 p. $5.95.


British Railways in Argentina, 1857-1914: A
Case Study of Foreign Investment Colin M.
Lewis. Athlone Press (London, Eng.), 1984.
259 p. 20.00.

Capital Accumulation and Economic Growth:
A Financial Perspective on Mexico. Guillermo
Ortiz Martinez. Garand Publishing, 1984. 202
p. $24.00. [Thesis-Stanford University.]

Capitalists, Caciques, and Revolution: The
Native Elite and Foreign Enterprise in
Chihuahua, Mexico, 1854-1911. Mark
Wasserman. University of North Carolina Press,
1984. 232 p. $27.00.

The Caribbean Basin to the Year 2000:
Demographic, Economic, and Resource Use
Trends in Seventeen Countries; A
Compendium of Statistics and Projections.
Norman A. Graham, Keith L. Edwards.
Westview Press, 1984. 145 p. $18.50.

The Economics of Central America. John
Weeks. Holmes & Meier, 1984. 300 p. $32.50;
$14.50 paper.

Endeudamiento externo en el Peru: bases
para una posici6n conjunta en el context
latinoamericano. Luis Alva Castro. Industrial
Grhfica (Lima, Peru), 1984. 111 p.

Grassroots Development in Latin America and
the Caribbean: Oral Histories of Social
Change. Robert Wasserstrom, ed. Praeger,
1985. $32.95; $11.95 paper.

Haciendas in Central Mexico from Late
Colonial Times to the Revolution: Labour
Conditions, Hacienda Management and Its
Relation to the State. R. Buve, ed. Centro de
Estudios y Documentaci6n Latinoamericanos,
CEDLA (Amsterdam, Netherlands), 1984.
312 p. Nfl.35.00.

Historia del movimiento obrero en America
Latina. Pablo Gonzalez Casanova, ed. Siglo XXI
Editores (Mexico), 1984. 4 vols.

La introducci6n de la tecnologia
norteamericana e inglesa en Argentina. Perla
Bengash, ed. Editorial del Poligono (Buenos
Aires, Argentina), 1984. 4 vols.

Jamaica and the Sugar Worker Cooperatives:
The Politics of Reform. Carl Henry Feuer.
Westview Press, 1984. 220 p. $19.50.

Latin America, Economic Imperialism and the
State: The Political Economy of the External
Connection from Independence to the Present.
Christopher Abel, Colin M. Lewis. Athlone Press
(London, Eng.), 1984. 400 p. $52.00.

Latin American-U.S. Economic Relations,
1982-1983. Sistema Econ6mico
Latinoamericano, SELA. Westview Press, 1984.
115 p. $12.50.

Limits to Capitalist Development: The
Industrialization of Peru, 1950-1980. John
Weeks. Westview Press, 1984. 250 p. $20.00.

Mexican Oil and Dependent Development.
Judith Gentleman. P Lang (New York, N.Y.),
1984. $25.25.

Miners of the Red Mountain: Indian Labor in
Potosi, 1545-1650. Peter J. Bakewell.
University of New Mexico Press, 1984. 240 p.

Petr6leo y alternatives energeticas en America
Latina. George Philip, et al.; Marcelo Garcia, ed.
Centro de Estudios Econ6micos y Sociales del
Tercer Mundo, 1984. 425 p.

La political econ6mica de Estados Unidos en
America Latina: documents de la
administraci6n Reagan. Sergio Bitar, Carlos
Juan Moneta, eds. Grupo Editor
Latinoamericano, GEL (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 418 p.

Politics, Policies, and Economic Development
in Latin America. Robert Wesson, ed. Hoover
Institution Press, 1984. 275 p.

O senhor e o unicornio: a economic dos anos
80. Luiz Gonzaga de Mello Belluzzo. Brasiliense
(Sho Paulo, Brazil), 1984. 208 p. CR6,900.00.
[About Brazil.]

Sicuanga Runa: The Other Side of
Development in Amazonian Ecuador. Norman
E. Whitten. University of Illinois Press, 1984.
294 p. $17.95.

Statistical Abstract of the United States-
Mexico Borderlands. Peter L. Reich, ed. Latin
American Center, University of California (Los
Angeles), 1984.204 p. $45.00.

Studies in Caribbean Labour Relations Law.
Roop L. Chaudhary. 2d ed. Coles Printery
(Barbados, WI.), 1984. 234 p.

Trade and Exchange in Early Mesoamerica.
Kenneth G. Wirth. University of New Mexico
Press, 1984. 338 p. $37.50.

Underdeveloping the Amazon: Extraction,
Unequal Exchange and the Failure of the
Modern State. Stephen G. Bunker. University of
Illinois Press, 1984. 302 p. $24.50.

The U.S. and Mexico: Borderland
Development and the National Economies.
Lay James Gibson, Alfonso Corona Renteria.
Westview Press, 1984. 300 p. $22.50.

West Indian Cases on the Law of Contract.
Roop L. Chaudhary. Coles Printery (Barbados,
W.I.), 1984. 316 p. Reprint of the 1977 ed.

What Price Equity? A Macroeconomic
Evaluation of Government Policies in Costa
Rica. Fuat M. Andic. Institute of Caribbean
Studies, University of Puerto Rico, 1984. 70 p.

History and Archaeology

Across the Cactus Curtain: The Story of
Guanthnamo Bay. Theodore K. Mason. Dodd,
Mead, 1984. 192 p. $12.95.

The Americas: A Compendium of Recent
Studies; Proceedings of the 44th International
Congress of Americanists. John Lynch, ed.
Manchester University Press (Dover N.Y, 1984.
480 p. $42.00.


The Cambridge History of Latin America.
Leslie Bethell, ed. Cambridge University Press,
1984. 2 vols. $129.00.

Ciudades prehispanlcas de Mexico: Tula,
Teotihuachn, Monte Alban, Tajin y Chichen
Itzh. Luis E. Arochi. Editorial Panorama
(Mexico), 1984. 305 p.

Compendlo de la historic del Paraguay, 1780.
Jose Cardiel. Fundaci6n para la Educaci6n, la
Ciencia y la Cultura (Buenos Aires, Argentina),
1984. 212 p.

Conflictos hispano-portugueses en el Rio de
la Plata, 1750-1777. Susana Biasi, ed. Centro
Editor de America Latina (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 93 p.

The Conquest of America: The Question of
the Other. Tzvetan Todorov; Richard Howard,
trans. Harper & Row, 1984. 274 p. $17.95.
[Translation of La conqubte de l'Amerique.]

The Conquest of Michoacan: The Spanish
Domination of the Tarascan Kingdom in
Western Mexico, 1521-1530. J. Benedict
Warren. University of Oklahoma Press, 1985.
400 p. $27.50.

Discoverers of the Lost World: An Account of
Some of Those Who Brought Back to Life
South American Mammals Long Buried in the
Abyss of Time. George Gaylord Simpson. Yale
University Press, 1984. $25.00.

Documents on the Invasion of Grenada,
October 1983. Institute of Caribbean Studies,
University of Puerto Rico. The University, 1984.

Fuentes para la historic de la ciudad de
Mexico, 1810-1979. Alejandra Moreno
Toscano, Sonia Lombardo de Ruiz, eds.
Institute Nacional de Antropologia e Historia
(Mexico), 1984. 2 vols.

Haiti-Today and Tomorrow: An
Interdisciplinary Study. Charles R. Foster,
Albert Valdman. University Press of America,
1984. $28.50; $16.50 paper.

La interminable conquista de Mexico. Rius (i.e.
Eduardo del Rio). Editorial Grijalbo (Mexico),
1984. 151 p.

Investigaciones argueologicas en el valle del
Rio Tulijh, Tabasco-Chiapas. Elsa C.
Hernandez Pons. Universidad Nacional
Aut6noma de Mexico, 1984. 132 p.

Les Jacobins Noirs: Toussaint Louverture et
la revolution de Saint-Domingue. Cyril Lionel,
Robert James; Pierre Naville, trans. Editions
CaribBennes (Paris, France), 1984. 376 p. 89F
[Translation of The Black Jacobins.]
Manual de las Malvinas desde 1501 a 1983.
Laurio Hedelvio Dest6fani. Corregidor (Buenos
Aires, Argentina), 1984. 244 p.

The Mexican Revolution in Yucatan,
1915-1924. James C. Carey. Westview Press,
1984. 250 p. $21.00.

The Mixtecs in Ancient and Colonial Times.
Ronald Spores. University of Oklahoma Press,
1985. 304 p.. $27.50.

El mundo secret de los incas. Silvia
Florentino de Gonzalez. Fundaci6n Ross
(Rosario, Argentina), 1984. 105 p.
El period hispanico en la Patagonia. Aurelio
Salesky Ulibarri. Institute de Estudios
Hist6ricos Roberto Levillier (C6rdoba,
Argentina), 1984. 90 p.

A Political and Social History of Guyana,
1945-1983. Thomas J. Spinner, Jr. Westview
Press, 1984. 315 p. $23.50.

Revolution in El Salvador: Origins and
Evolution. Tommie Montgomery. 2d ed.
Westview Press, 1984. 270 p. $26.50;
$11.50 paper.

Spain and Portugal in the New World,
1492-1700. Lyle N. McAlister. University of
Minnesota Press, 1984. 600 p. $35.00;
$13.95 paper.

La trata de negros en el Rio de la Plata
durante el siglo XVIII. Elena F S. de Studer.
Libros de Hispanoamerica (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 378 p. [Reprint of 1958 ed.]

Language and Literature

Una antologia de poesia cubana. Diego Garcia
Elio, ed. Editorial Oasis (Mexico), 1984. 235 p.
Comprensi6n jusfilos6fica del "Martin Flerro".
Miguel Angel Ciuro Caldani. Fundaci6n para las
Investigaciones Juridicas (Santa F6, Argentina),
1984. 152 p.

Critical Perspectives on Gabriel Garcia
Marquez. Nora Vera, Bradley Shaw, eds. Society
of Spanish and Spanish-American Studies,
University of Nebraska-Lincoln, 1984. 220 p.

Donde estoy no hay luz y esta enrejado: Where
I am There Is no Light and It Is Barred: Oil je
suis il n'y a pas de lumiire mais un grillage.
Jorge Vails. Editorial Playor (Madrid, Spain),
1984. 46 p.

Estudios en honor a Ricardo Gull6n. Luis T
Gonzhlez del Valle, Dario Villanueva. Society of
Spanish and Spanish-American Studies,
University of Nebraska-Lincoln, 1984. 280 p.

Flor y canto de la poesia guadalupana, siglo
XX. Joaguin Antonio Pefialosa. Editorial Jus
(Mexico), 1984. 224 p.

Le6n Gontran-Damas: I'homme et I'oeuvre.
Daniel Racine. Editions Presence Africaine
(Paris, France), 1983. 200 p. 70E

Literature del siglo XX en el Rio de la Plata:
treinta y seis ensayos sobre escritores de
Argentina y Uruguay. Jorge Oscar Pickenhayn.
Plus Ultra (Buenos Aires, Argentina), 1984.
307 p.

Non-Vicious Circle: Twenty Poems of Aim6
Cesaire. Gregson Davis, ed. and trans. Stanford
University Press, 1984. 152 p. $18.50.

Popol Vuh: The Mayan Book of Creation.
Dennis Tedlock. Simon and Schuster, 1985.

Romancero de la guerra del Atlantico Sur.
Miguel Angel Ferreyra Liendo. Arp6n (C6rdoba,
Argentina), 1984. 97 p.

Texto sobre texto: aproximaciones a Herrera y
Reissig, Borges, Corthzar, Huidobro, Lihn.
Oscar Hahn. Universidad Aut6noma de Mexico,
1984. 139 p.

Voices from Under: The Black Narrative in
Latin America and the Caribbean. William
Luis, ed. Greenwood Press, 1984. $29.95.

Yawar Fiesta. Jose Maria Arguedas; Frances
Horning Barraclough, trans. University of Texas
Press, 1985. 208 p. $19.95; $8.95 paper.

Politics and Government

America Latina: political exteriores
comparadas. Juan Carlos Puig, ed. Grupo
Editor Latinoamericano, GEL (Buenos Aires,
Argentina), 1984. 2 vols. 556 p.

The Anglo-Argentine Connection,
1900-1939. Robert Gravil. Westyiew Press,
1985. 300 p. $35.00.

Armed Forces of Latin America. A. English.
Jane's Pub. Co. (New York, N.Y), 1984. 480 p.

Brazil: Politics in a Patrimonial Society.
Riordan Roett. 3d ed. Praeger, 1984. 272 p.
$24.95; $10.95 paper.

Central America: Anatomy of Conflict Robert
S. Leiken, ed. Pergamon Press, 1984.351 p.

Central America: Opposing Viewpoints. David
L. Bender, ed. Greenhaven Press (St. Paul,
Minn.), 1984. 244 p. $11.95; $5.95 paper.

The Cuban Revolution, 25 Years Later. Hugh
S. Thomas, et al. Westview Press, 1984. 95 p.

La democracia participativa en Nicaragua.
Centro de lnvestigaci6n y Estudios de la
Reform Agraria. CIERA (Managua, Nicaragua),
1984. 256 p.

Democracies and Tyrannies of the Caribbean.
William Krehm. Lawrence Hill (Westport,
Conn.), 1984. $19.95; $9.95 paper.


Discreet Partners: Argentina and the USSR
Since 1917. Aldo C. Vacs; Michael Joyce,
trans. University of Pittsburgh Press, 1984. 154
p. $14.95. [Translation of Los socios
Distant Neighbors: Portrait of the Mexicans.
Alan Riding. Knopf, 1985. $18.95.
Garrison Guatemala. George Black, Milton
Jamail, Norma Stoltz Chinchilla. Monthly
Review Press, 1984. 208 p. $25.00; $9.00

Geopolitics of the Caribbean: Ministates in a
Wider World. Thomas D. Anderson. Praeger,
1984. 175 p. $29.95.

Grenada: Revolution and Invasion. Anthony
Payne, Paul Sutton, Tony Thorndike. St.
Martin's Press, 1984. 233 p. $19.95.

Grillos y gandallas: lecciones de political "a la
mexicana". Eulalio Rivas Hernandez. Costa-
Amic Editores (Mexico), 1984. 374 p.

In Search of Policy: The United States and
Latin America. Howard J. Wiarda. American
Enterprise Institute for Public Policy Research,
1984. 147 p. $17.95; $7.95 paper.

Inevitable Revolutions: The United States in
Central America. Walter LaFeber. Norton, 1984.
357 p. $7.95.

Latin America and Western Europe:
Reevaluating the Atlantic Triangle. Wolf
Grabendorff, Riordan Roett, eds. Praeger,1984.
Las luchas por la hegemonia y la
consolidaci6n political de la burguesia en
Ecuador, 1972-1978. Francisco R. Davila
Aldas. Universidad Aut6noma de M6xico, 1984.
247 p.
1984 [i.e. Mil novecientos ochenta y cuatro]:
carta a Fidel Castro. Fernando Arrabal.
Editorial Diana (Mexico), 1984. 121 p.

Nicaragua in Perspective. Eduardo Crawley. St.
Martin's Press, 1984. 224 p. $8.95.

Nicaragua Under Siege. Marlene Dixon,
Susanne Jonas, eds. Synthesis Publications
(San Francisco, Calif.), 1984. 234 p. $8.95.

Party Competition in Argentina and Chile:
Political Recruitment and Public Policy,
1890-1930. Karen L. Remmer. University of
Nebraska Press, 1984. 296 p. $19.95.

El pe6n de la reina. Virginia Gamba. Editorial
Sudamericana (Buenos Aires, Argentina),
1984. 207 p. [Falkland Islands.]

Perfiles de la revoluci6n sandinista: liberaci6n
national y transformaciones sociales en
Centroambrica. Carlos Vilas. Legasa (Buenos
Aires, Argentina), 1984. 402 p.

Politics and Public Policy in Latin America.
Steven W Hughes, Kenneth J. Mijeski. Westview
Press, 1984. 245 p. $32.50; $13.95 paper.

Public Policy in Latin America: A Comparative
Study. John W. Sloan. University of Pittsburgh
Press, 1984. 250 p. $25.95; $12.95 paper.

Puerto Rican Politics in Urban America. James
Jennings, Monte Rivera, eds. Greenwood Press,
1984. 166 p. $27.95.

Puerto Rico: The Search for a National Policy.
Richard J. Bloomfield, ed. Westview Press,
1985. 220 p. $30.00.

Red, White and Blue Paradise: The American
Canal Zone in Panama. Herbert Knapp, Mary
Knapp. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1985.
320 p. $16.95.
The Report of the President's National
Bipartisan Commission on Central America.
National Bipartisan Commission on Central
America (U.S.). Macmillan, 1984. 158 p. $7.95.

Revolution in Central America. Daniel Fogel.
Ism Press (San Francisco, Calif.), 1984. 175 p.

The Southern Cone Nations of Latin America.
William F Sater. Forum Press (Arlington
Heights, Ill.), 1984. 112 p. $5.95.

Storm Over Chile: The Junta Under Siege.
Samuel Chavkin. Rev. ed. Lawrence Hill
(Westport, Conn.), 1984. $8.95.

Trouble in Our Backyard: Central America and
the United States in the Eighties. Martin
Diskin, ed. Pantheon Books, 1984. 264 p.

Umbanda: Religion and Politics in Urban
Brazil Diana DeGroat Brown. UMI Research
Press (Ann Arbor, Mich.), 1984.

The United States and Central America,
1944-1949: Perceptions of Political
Dynamics. Thomas M. Leonard. University of
Alabama Press, 1984.210 p. $20.00.

U.S. Policy for Central America: A Briefing.
Edward Gonzalez, et al. Rand, 1984.

De Verenigde Staten uit Midden-Amerika. T.
Hees, P van den Tempel, eds. De Horstink
(Amersfoort, Netherlands), 1984.

Why We Are in Central America. James Chace.
Random House, 1984. 120 p. $3.95.


Arte Chicano: A Comprehensive Annotated
Bibliography on Chicano Art, 1965-1981.
Shifra M. Goldman, Tomas Fausto-Ybarra.
Chicano Studies Library, University of California
(Berkeley), 1984. 190 p.

Bibliografia sobre judaismo argentino. Centro
de Documentaci6n e Informaci6n sobre
Judaismo Argentino "Marc Turkow." El Centro
(Buenos Aires, Argentina), 1984. 194 p.

Cuban Literature: An Annotated Bibliography.
David William Foster. Garland Publishing,

Cubans in the United States: A Bibliography
for Research in the Social and Behavioral
Sciences, 1960-1983. Lyn MacCorckle, ed.
Greenwood Press, 1984. 227 p. $35.00.

The English-Speaking Caribbean: A
Bibliography of Bibliographies. Alma Jordan,
Barbara Comissiong. G.K. Hall, 1984.

Estudios fronterizos Mixico-Estados Unidos:
directorio general de investigadores, 1984.
Jorge A. Bustamante, Alberto HernBndez,
Francisco Malagamba, eds. Centro de Estudios
Fronterizos del Norte de M6xico (Tijuana,
Mexico), 1984. 234 p.

Grenada: An Annoted Guide to Resources.
Charlynn Spencer Pyne. Afro Resources
(Temple Hill, Md.), 1984. $14.95.

Guide to the Notarial Records of the Archivo
General de Notarias, Mexico City, for the Year
1875. Robert A. Potash, Jan Bazant, Josefina
Vazquez, eds. Committee on Latin American
Studies, Computing Center, University of
Massachusetts at Armherst, 1984. 743 p.

Kleines Konversations Handbuch fIr
Paraguay: Deutsch-Spanisch-Guarani. Frank
Haller. Comuneros (Asunci6n, Paraguay), 1984.
86 p.

A Manifest of Puerto Rican Materials:
Annotated Bibliography. Luis A. Cardona, ed.
Carreta Press (Bethesda, Md.), 1984. 200 p.

Puerto Rico Products and Service Guide.
Arthur Medina, Connie Garcia. Puerto Rico
Almanacs (Santurce, PR.), 1984. $18.95.

Revolution and Counterrevolution in
Guatemala, 1944-1963: An Annotated
Bibliography of Materials in the Benson Latin
American Collection. Ann Hartness-Kane, ed.
General Libraries, University of Texas at Austin,
1984. 174 p. $20.00.

Statistical Abstract of the United States-
Mexico Borderlands. Peter L. Reich, ed. Latin
American Center, University of California (Los
Angeles), 1984. 204 p. $45.00.

Statistical Sources on the California Hispanic
Population 1984: A Preliminary Survey.
Eudora Loh, Roberta Medford. California
Spanish Language Data Base, 1984. $19.80.

Travels in America, From the Voyages of
Discovery to the Present: An Annotated
Bibliography of Travel Articles in Periodicals,
1955-1980. Harold L. Cole. University of
Oklahoma Press, 1984. 344 p. $48.50.


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. It offers
courses and programs at three locations: Tamiami Campus in
Southwest Dade County, Bay Vista Campus in North Miami
and the Broward Center, on the Central Campus of Broward
Community College.
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 sci-
ences, 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 gradu-
ate 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) 554-2555.
A program in international economic development is offered
as part of the Master of Arts in Economics. Contact: Chairper-
son, 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)
Several professional programs provide academic and ap-
plied courses in fields applicable to an international focus. The
School of Nursing's program leads to the degree of Bachelor of
Science in Nursing. Its graduates are equipped to practice
professional nursing in a multicultural and changing society.
Contact: School of Nursing, (305) 940-5915.

The School of Public Affairs and Services offers undergradu-
ate and graduate degrees in Criminal Justice, Health Services
Administration, Public Administration, and Social Work.
Course work emphasizes understanding of needs, issues and
alternatives in urban societies faced with rapidly changing
social, political, economic and cultural conditions.
The Certificate in International Bank Management pro-
vides training in international banking policy, practice and
techniques. Contact: Business Counseling Office, (305)
All students may use the facilities of the English
Language Skills Center, which conducts a writing labora-
tory 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: Di-
rector, Intensive English Program (305) 554-2493.
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 pro-
grams. Contact: International Affairs Center, (305)
The Latin American and Caribbean Center, one of 12 US
Department of Education National Resource Centers, coor-
dinates teaching and research on the region, administers
an academic certificate program, and supports research.
Contact: Latin American and Caribbean Center, (305)
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.
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 re-
searchers 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. The Institute of Economic and Social Re-
search 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 pub-
lishes resulting materials.

Florida International University
Tamiami Campus
Miami, Florida 33199

rytofind a better days

Welcome aboard the M/S
Skyward. Relax, meet
new people. The chefs
are laying outa 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.

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

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

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.

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

At Cozumel, 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.

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

America's Favorite Cruise LineM

't 4so