Central America Offers Big Problem For Us To Solve.

New York Times 100 years ago today, May 18, 1913:
The Troubles of Mexico Are Only Part of the Problem — Honduras, Nicaragua, Guatemala, and Other Countries Have Situations That Must Be Met Sooner or Later.By George Palmer Putnam.
    EVERY well-regulated nation faces a "question of the hour." Just now ours is: What are we going to do about Mexico?
    No matter what immediate answer it may receive, in its bigger fundamental aspect it promises to remain one of the pertinent problems of the decade.
    If Mexico did not stand in the centre of the stage to-day, claiming universal attention, we might more diligently regard the situation just beyond its borders, in the Central American southland. For upon that first query hinges this second one: What are we going to do about Central America?
    The Mexican crisis may pass; some satisfactory solution may be reached. But whatever the other results of the present-day difficulties there, one of them is sure to be a vastly increased curiosity regarding Central American affairs. And even without the Mexican chaos to focus interest southward, the Panama Canal would accomplish the same end in a more leisurely manner.
    A reasonable answer to the question regarding Central America may involve a radical readjustment of the United States' policy toward its little brothers of the south, and, perhaps, a total revision of the "doctrine" propounded by President Monroe ninety years ago. At all events, the Mexican revolutions, the imminence of the canal's opening, and the advent of a new political party to our National helm form a trinity of contemporaneous events that well may spell change in our relations with the republics south of the Rio Grande.

Chaotic Conditions.
    Mexico in renewed rebellion. Salvador's President assassinated. Guatemala stirring beneath the iron hand of a remarkable dictatorship. Honduras and Nicaragua probably on the eve of some political deviltry, the former financially exhausted, the latter just dragged through the knothole of a revolution. Our own warships hovering off the Mexican and Central American Coasts, and our State Department scratching its diplomatic head and wondering what's best to do.
    That is the almost bewildering record of physical facts which confronts the American reader to-day.
    On the unwritten page is another array of problems. They are not new problems by any means, but the outlook seems to presage that they may come more acutely before the attention of the North American public during the next year than ever before.
    Señor Manuel Calero was the Mexican Minister at Washington last year. It is instructive to note a statement he made to the Mexican Senate a couple of weeks before the bubble of peace burst in Mexico City in February.
    "I lied to the American Government for ten months, telling it the Mexican revolution would be over in six weeks," said he. "The truth is that the Department of Finance has not painted the situation as it really is. We should speak the truth, though it destroy us. The truth is that the situation is desperate."
    That was a frank exposition of Mexican affairs, from the inside, made just before the world became aware that the situation was truly desperate in the land that ousted Diaz a few years ago.
    Is the situation, then, desperate south of Mexico, too? No. Yet it merits National attention, not so much because of any immediately impending difficulty as that it is essential for the United States to establish a plan of action regarding Central America which, once established, shall be carried out.
    That is not new advice by any means. Competent critics, able writers, men familiar at first hand with the affairs of Central America, have harped along in this strain for a decade.

Unknown Central America.
    To-day it is a liberal education — certainly a startling object-lesson — for a North American to journey among the tropical republics. To most of us Central America is literally a terra incognita. If ignorance truly were bliss, wisdom would be folly. But the result of our Central American ignorance will not be blissful — nor has it been to the people of the southland, for whom its harvest has been cruel suffering. Last year the writer occupied four delightful months rambling through Central America: they were months well spent if for no other reason than because they brought home a realization of ignorance of southern affairs. These few paragraphs concern the lessons of the trip, from a North American viewpoint.
    The republics of Central America have progressed indifferently well since 1821; before that date the history of each was largely merged into that of its neighbors and with Spain's. From the travail of the third and fourth decades of the last century the six countries emerged much as they are to-day, so far as geographic situation is concerned. But of them all only Costa Rica and Salvador have had any measure of stable prosperity, and even these two, until a generation ago, have had troubles enough and to spare.
    To-day Panama is orderly. There can be nothing more serious than election- time riots there, thanks to the fact that the policing of the Isthmus is practically in American hands and the certainty that any disturbance threatening the peaceful operation of the canal would be the signal for determined interference. Panama owes its national existence to the United States, (whatever the ethics of the case,) and certainly its comparative affluence, and it is further placed under the protecting wing of the Yankee eagle by our promise to maintain its political independence. Observation leads one to believe that the Panamans have no great love for us, but under the circumstances they are far too wise to show it.

Fortunate Costa Rica.
    Costa Rica is stable, happy, and prosperous. Its government is not perfection — few are — but it is at least an actual republic. It is a proud little land, capable of caring for itself, if needs be, but in no wise bellicose, and never likely to originate international disturbance.
    Salvador is another republic worthy of the name. Yet even tiny Salvador is not free from internal anarchy and external dangers, as is evidenced by the murder of President Araujo in February. Dr. Araujo was a good executive, apparently notable for his honesty and public interest. His assassin, the meagre news reports stated, confessed that his act was an outgrowth of a plot hatched in Guatemala City, whether with or without official backing not implied. At all events, the assassination was followed by a hasty mobilization of Salvadorian forces along the Guatemalan boundary, as a precautionary measure, for Salvador heartily hates and fears its northern neighbor.
    Of Nicaragua one can speak with little optimism. The unhappy land has been the scene of disturbances without number; it is bankrupt, its men and its means are depleted. The prospect for betterment is remote. The most that poor Nicaragua still has is a splendid array of natural resources — resources pitifully useless in a land whose people have retrograded beyond possessing power to utilize them.
    Honduras is as bad. Inhabited by half a million Indians and half-breeds. It makes no pretense of taking seriously its $125,000,000 debt, the heritage left it by a half century of governmental blood-sucking. Population and production are waning. Like Nicaragua, it is a sad sight.
    Last Summer there was bloodshed in Nicaragua, and while no immediate excuse for its repetition is in sight, regarding the future through the experiences of the past, one must believe that new revolutions are sure to occur. The pitiful part of it is that there seems to be no cure for all this — no medicine other than the application of a very big stick, and even that remedy is temporary unless some sort of permanent policeman's work is undertaken, and Heaven knows what a pest we would inherit if through any diplomatic contortions the United States found itself the guardian, in reality as well as in name, of Honduras and Nicaragua!
    Nearest to the United States of all the Central American countries is Guatemala, a giant among the pygmies, ruled by the one remaining figure in southern politics that is imposing.
    In scenery and climate Guatemala is a pure delight; its beautiful highlands offer a rare and almost untouched treasure trove of travelers' interest. Politically and socially it is a land of extraordinary contradictions and depressing depths.
    On one hand stands a most liberal Constitution, an enlightened code of laws, free speech, free press, an active Congress, and a progressive educational system. There is luxury, wealth, and comfort. It is all quite idyllic.

The Other Side.
    But how different is the reverse side of the picture! The Constitution is a farce, the laws are a travesty, free speech and free press are subject to the autocratic whims of the administration, the Congress is no better — nay, worse — than so many manikins, and the vaunted educational system is a giddy burlesque. The luxury is ephemeral, the wealth is mortgaged. Rub the gilt off, and Guatemala, at close range, is a sad sight — the saddest on our hemisphere, for the heritage God grave the land is bountiful beyond belief.
    You may see whichever side of the picture you choose. No — not quite that, for if you merit official attention you will certainly be shown the bright side, while the dark side will be disclosed only through your own efforts. But it is easily enough discovered.

Cabrera the Dictator.
    Since 1898 Guatemala has had a dictator, Manuel Estrada Cabrera. His power is even more absolute than was Diaz's, although some believe his position less secure. Cabrera is a modern successor to the unenviable titles enjoyed a few years ago by Zelaya of Nicaragua and Castro of Venezuela.
    His loving people have tried to kill Cabrera upon several occasions. Some day some one will succeed, no doubt. But the dictator is never seen. He lives in a guarded palace, with underground passages. Even carriages are not permitted to pass through the streets upon which it faces. The writer once endeavored to secure an interview, having readily met the Presidents of the other republics. But not Cabrera! He was soured on writers since an experience with Frederick Palmer a couple of years ago, for Palmer had not been content to write of what the officials had shown him, but added to this delightful information the unvarnished truth concerning what he had seen for himself of the unofficial side.
    Actually, then, Guatemala is a pure despotism. To use the description of one who accompanied the Knox mission to Central America last Summer: "A population of 2,000,000 is exploited to the last extreme by an insatiable tyrant and his merciless band of retainers. Not a merchant but pays his tribute; not a planter but exists on bribed sufferance; not an Indian in the Jungle but must stand ready to pay with his life for his calabash and his shawl. The national currency has been debased until it is worth only something like 5 cents on the dollar; a colossal debt will never be paid; the beggared country is compelled to support a big army for the ambitious designs of a discontented despot, who fancies himself, as he boasts, another Napoleon destined to continental empire."
    Government in Guatemala is conducted on the spoils system; not, to be sure, an altogether unique procedure in political life, but in this case with the satisfactory proviso (satisfactory from the standpoint of the "ins"!) that as there is only one party, and as that party is always in power, there is no unpleasant competition for the graft!
    Salaries are absurd. The President nominally receives $5,000 a month, Guatemalan money, or about one-eighteenth of that amount in our currency. The jefe politico is the political mainspring of the country. There are twenty-three of them, at the head of each of the departments into which Guatemala is divided — "political heads," literally. Below them are the Alcaldes, or Mayors of the local municipalities. The salary of a jefe politico is supposed to be $250 a month; Guatemalan money.
    "What salary does a, Judge receive?" the writer once asked.
    "As much as he can get," was the prompt reply.
    And so with the jefes. They get what they can — and that usually is a tidy little sum, if reports are to be credited. For instance, they are the clearing houses for labor. When a finquere wants laborers, he does not go out and get them, for the very good and sufficient reason that there are none to be had in that way. Instead, he waits upon his jefe, or, perhaps, the Alcalde, and states his needs, which are forthwith provided — for a consideration. The usual price for day labor is three pesos, or about 17 cents. (In remote districts it is as low as one peso.) Half of this goes to the jefe. It is said that each active jefe controls 1,200 laborers, so it is evident that a profitable field of endeavor lies in this direction alone.

Peonage in Guatemala.
    The laborers themselves are between the devil and the deep sea. As long as they stay on a finca they are safe and may depend with some certainty upon receiving the necessities and some of the joys of life. But once they leave they are at the mercy of the authorities and probably face an alternative of being impressed into the payless army or of having themselves turned over to another master, while the jefe retains the commission for the transaction.
    While it is said that peonage no longer exists in Guatemala, to all intents and purposes it actually does. The keynote of the system is that a laborer may not leave a plantation if he is in debt to his employer — which he invariably is. For instance, along comes a marriage, a funeral, or something that requires special celebration; if nothing better turns up, there are always the numberless church and national holidays and fiesta times. Straightway the mozo borrows money from his master. After that he is never out of debt, if for no other reason than that the employer keeps the accounts and has the purchased backing of the local jefe or Alcalde. The permanency of the system is indicated by the fact that a man's offspring and relatives inherit his debt should he die.

Elections a Farce.
    The most ludicrous (or is it the most pathetic?) of the sidelights upon the Guatemalan democracy concerns the Presidential "election." The constitution calls for one every four years, and a constitution must be respected, especially if it happens to be a really admirable one. So once in four years there is an election. Manuel Estrada Cabrera became President in 1898 and has been re-elected regularly at lawful intervals since. The method is simplicity itself. In the first place, it is a "real election"; ballots actually are cast and probably a great many of them are counted. One of the features is that crowds of Indians are marched by soldiers from one polling-place to another, all of whom loyally cast their ballots for Cabrera. One reason — besides the soldiers — is that he is the only candidate!
    "Cabrera can never be put out. He has Guatemala in the palm of his hand. There is no power in the land that could seriously menace him."
    Such is the opinion of a dozen men in Guatemala to-day. But, then, one recalls that well-informed people were saying the same thing of Diaz five years ago.
    One of three things can end his rule. The first is death; it may come at any time. Secondly, Cabrera, following the example of Castro or Zelaya, may resign his position and decamp to Europe and there enjoy the fortune he has milked from his country. Or, thirdly, another nation may see to it that his rule ends. Such action can never originate with a Central-American neighbor, for not one of them is powerful enough. Apparently no European power can oust Cabrera, even if it would, thanks to the threadbare Monroe Doctrine, which forbids interference from across the seas.
    Is it possible, then, that the United States will some day grasp the great Cabrera by the seat of his official trousers and cast him forth? It is doubtful. Assuredly, that time will never come until we accept far more fully than we ever yet have done the responsibilities of the Doctrine. In Guatemala, it is said, and the assertion holds water, that, if our Government does not actually stand directly behind Cabrera, it certainly seems to do so. There can be no doubt that many troublesome movements have been fathered by Cabrera, and that, although our Government knew of them, no action was taken to avert their culmination and results. Nor does it seem a matter of doubt that if ever a promising revolution against Cabrera himself sprang to life the United States would promptly see that it was crushed.
    "So what can we do? We are helpless. Your great Republic is the strongest support Cabrera has," said a wealthy Guatemalan to the writer.
    Heaven only knows what will happen when Cabrera goes, no matter how he goes. Guatemala will be a chaos, worse than that which Mexico has inherited since Diaz was deposed. There you have a glimpse of Guatemala and a hint of what we may some day encounter just south of Mexico. Trouble is coming sooner or later. The most interesting probable complication may spring to life when the Guatemalan Government steps upon the toes of some European nation, say Germany. It will happen, and perhaps before long. Then, in all probability, Cabrera will try to hide behind our coattalls and put his official fingers to his nose at the Kaiser. Which, of course, won't work. The problem will be: What will the United States do about it?
    It is true that the present status quo is far from admirable. It is, perhaps, a choice of retaining existing difficulties or discarding them for others unknown. One must admit that Cabrera preserves order. The dove of peace has hovered over the land for a dozen years. Shall we rid ourselves of the problem by saying that it is no one's business if the poor bird is obliged to wear a bombproof union suit?
    Yet do not picture Guatemala and its sister republics blacker than they really are. It is too easy to exaggerate, and with regard to Central America entirely too much exaggeration has been indulged in already, especially in burlesquing the characteristics and actualities of the countries and their people. Central America is neither a continuous opera bouffe nor a land of unbridled lawlessness. Conversely, it is not what some of its active apologists would have one believe — a territory of peace and plenty presided over by righteous Governments and fast developing in the ways of enlightenment. Its future is the puzzle. The present is neither so bad as it might be, nor as dark as it has been. The past is inexcusable. For the entire Central American isthmus is strewn with political wrecks in which, little by little, have perished the wealth and the happiness of the unfortunate little lands. We have had a grave responsibility in those wrecks, as there can be no doubt that our laissez faire policy has done much to permit their occurrence. The Monroe Doctrine saddled us with an unpleasant duty and has proved for the republics a perpetual franchise for deviltry, because, for the most part, we dodged that duty.
    The Doctrine recently cropped up into a second childhood when the United States Senate early this year passed a resolution, fathered by Senator Lodge, which in effect prohibits the settlement of any foreign power in a harbor or locality that would threaten the safety or communication of this country in time of war. The press of the southland brand this as an "extension of the Monroe Doctrine," and again choose to believe it a step toward our acquisition of their territory, a move, they say, which must be and will be fought desperately. Could they but know that the very last thing the people of the United States would tolerate is a handful of peppery tropical republics!

What Should We Do About It?
    Once before we played the role of helper to the helpless in Cuba — played it to a crowded international house, the performance winning rather more applause than hisses; and to-day, after expelling the Spaniards and rescuing the Cubans from themselves a second time, we seem to see Cuba in a worse state of political wretchedness than it suffered under Weyler. That, coupled with the apparently perpetual grief we inherited in the Philippines, was an experience which has dampened any ardor we may have possessed toward martial excursions across seas, and materially lessened enthusiasm for even tutelary responsibilities beyond our borders.
    We are the self-appointed, exclusive policemen of Central America. Our critics say we have slept on the beat. Some of them are even unkind enough to insinuate that we are worse than no guardian at all, adding that the situations in Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, and Nicaragua are admirable examples of our inefficiency and the necessity that we either live up to our responsibilities or abandon them.
    So to-day we are approaching the parting of the ways. If nothing more acute brings the situation to a head the canal will cause a change. The Monroe Doctrine, propounded a century ago, must be remodeled, or the letter of its implied responsibilities lived up to. In the latter case a hornet's nest would be stirred up at home and a worse one in Central America. The former might mean that some power from across the Atlantic would take a hand at playing policeman. And a constructive policeman — even one with a foreign accent — would prove a boon for Central America.