Explaining Militarism: The Case of Guatemala

Andrew Schlewitz

Center for Studies of Social Change

New School for Social Research

June 13, 1997

Abstract: Much has been written about the Guatemalan army and its interventions in politics, but there is yet no thorough, systematic history of the Guatemalan military institution. Without this empirical work on the Guatemalan military, the various explanations of Guatemalan militarism remain weakly substantiated. This study will cover the years 1931 to 1966, a period in which the military was transformed from a tool of the state to a wielder of state power. It will lay out a comprehensive approach to studying militarism, connecting US hegemony, Guatemala's agroexport economy, and weak state, to reforms of the Guatemalan military institution, its shifting roles and responsibilities in national security and development, and its repeated intervention in national politics.

To speak of the Guatemalan military is to conjure up images of razed villages and clandestine graves, of Mayan Indians crowded into refugee camps or the military's model villages. We see stern generals surrounding the civilian president as he declares Guatemala's transition to democracy. We can imagine CIA agents in the shadows suborning Guatemalan officers. These tragic and true images, drawn from the present and recent past, infuse our vision of Guatemalan history. It seems that the Guatemalan military has ever been the mailed fist of elites, that it has long been an instrument of the US government, that the military has always intervened in Guatemalan politics.

However, if we cast aside the notion that militarism is a given, and assume that it is a mode of politics built over time, then we must look to the past to understand why the military today occupies such a prominent, entrenched position in Guatemalan politics. There are countless press accounts covering the Guatemalan military's role in politics. Scholars have also written much on militarism in Guatemala, either discussing the military's role in Guatemalan politics, or employing the case of Guatemala in a global model of militarism or political development. What is absent, though, is a thorough, systematic history of the Guatemalan military institution.

This is more than just an academic concern. The wave of redemocratization beginning in the 1980s has led scholars to focus on the questions of political transition, consolidation of new democracies, and of turning militaries into the servants rather than masters of civilian regimes. ₁ These studies are clearly vital, but if the goals are to dismantle the military and militarism, it would be helpful to have a clearer idea as to how and why they were constructed in the first place.

This essay will present a portion of the Guatemalan military's history, the years 1931-1966. This period begins with the dictatorial regime of Jorge Ubico and ends with Guatemala's first actual military government, a government which the military runs as an institution. It starts with a generation of officers who came of age under Ubico, experiencing both revolution and counter- revolution, authoritarian and democratic rule, good and bad economic conditions, and light and heavy US involvement in Guatemalan affairs. It begins when the army was basically a rural police force and overseer of development projects; it ends with an army that had found the will and means to try to direct all aspects of national life. Throughout this thirty-five year span, military factions rebelled numerous times, rarely with success.

What explains these many military rebellions under diverse regimes and circumstances? How and why did the military, a tool of the state during the Ubico period, become a wielder of state power in the 1960s? What does the history of the Guatemalan military and its rebellions tell us about theories of militarism and political development in Guatemala or other countries outside of the industrialized, democratic West?

The following will answer these questions, beginning with a definition of militarism and a brief discussion of institutional and structural approaches to studying militarism, leading to the premise that Guatemalan militarism can be understood only as conjuncture of structural factors, shaping, and shaped by, the Guatemalan military institution. It will then lay out a history of the Guatemalan military institution, and its rebellions, in the context of three inter-related structures: US hegemony, the Guatemalan agroexport economy and associated class structure, and the formation of the Guatemalan state. It concludes with thoughts on current theories of militarism.

The Study of Militarism

Militarism is defined as a situation where the military, as a whole or faction, attempts to determine state policy outside of the usual areas of national defense and domestic security. ₂ It is also about the military's efforts to gain or retain the exclusive right to oversee its institutional livelihood. Militarism therefore grows with an expanding scope of military responsibilities and autonomy. The ultimate expression of militarism, the military state, is a state in which the military institution has executive authority--either overtly or covertly. The military state is always a case of militarism, but militarism does not necessarily imply a military state. We should also keep in mind that military states differ in terms of the social and economic policies they institute, and the extent to which they attempt to build a base of popular support for their rule. ₃

Military officers may be militaristic in non-violent ways, pressuring the government via a political party, through their representatives in the state administration, or backroom pressure. A military may also refuse to obey or defend its government, or threaten to remove it. Or, the military may rebel violently in response to a particular policy, or as an attempt to turn the government over to new leadership or itself. Civilians, too, may be militaristic, to the extent that they encourage or welcome military intervention in politics, and to the extent that they willingly hand over government tasks and decisionmaking authority to the military.

Explanations of militarism pay attention, in varying degrees, to the opportunity to intervene, the motives of the officers involved, and their capacity to intervene. The opportunity to intervene refers to a situation in which the government is unable to rule effectively, that is, establish stability and gain legitimacy, due to incompetence, crisis, or foreign pressure. The motive to intervene relates to the interests and ideals driving officers to rebel. Motives originate in a number of places: the ethnic, regional, or class origin of officers; military training (domestic and foreign); the ways and degree to which officers depend on the military for their livelihood; the corporate identity forged within the military institution, or the officers values instilled by the nations political culture. The capacity to intervene relates to the size, firepower, skills, and leadership of the rebellious military group (relative to that of loyalists), the level of unity among the officer corps, and to the type and strength of civilian support for military intervention in politics. ₄

The concepts of opportunity, motive, and capacity, while giving some direction to the analysis of militarism, still leaves a bewildering array of possible explanations of militarism. Over the past forty years, scholars of various disciplines, research fields, and political bents, have approached militarism from different angles and levels of analysis. They have not reduced this array of explanations very much, leaving us, as James Kurth put it, to wander in a "theoretical thicket." ₅

Some have looked inside the military institution, linking militarism to officers' interests, ideals, their world-view, as formed by life within the barracks. Most, however, focus on a particular structure overarching the military institution, turning militarism into a function of whichever structure the author highlights, namely, political culture, modernization, the economy and attendant social relations, or imperialism. One does not really need to do a history of the military institution because the structural analysis provides a plausible explanation for its character and actions. Different structures provide different accounts of the military's opportunity, motive, and capacity to intervene (though these accounts often overlap one another).

The institutional approach attributes militarism to factionalism within the officer corps, or to the ideological, intellectual formation of officers. This approach deals principally with motive, ascribing it to the self-interest or corporate of officers, or their identity and ideology. The opportunity to intervene appears with some threat to a particular officer faction, or the officer corps as a whole, though incompetent civilian rule may be another reason. The capacity to intervene is only vaguely discussed, if at all. References are made to US military aid and training, but also to the inability, or unwillingness, of the citizenry to resist military interventionism. ₆

This civilian weakness or acquiescence are aspects of political culture, a concept which has long been prominent in structuralist thought on militarism. Political culture refers to the level of political mobilization (number of a nation's populace involved in political parties, labor unions, economic or social associations, social movements), which some now label "civil society," and to the degree to which people are attached to civilian rule. Both of these aspects depend on shared beliefs concerning citizenship, rights, and authority. If few people in a particular country are mobilized, "politically conscious" (to use a term popular with US foreign service officials in the 1950s), or if there is a time- hardened tradition of accepting or collaborating with authoritarian rule, then military officers will face few obstacles in imposing their will. The opportunity to intervene is ever present because militarism, by definition in this type of political culture, is a part of the rules for resolving conflict. The motive varies. As with the institutional model, motive may be tied to officers' self- interest, or the interest of his faction and civilian allies, or the military mind-set. But motive is less important than the cultural setting in which the officers act. ₇

The political culture model emphasizes the historical continuity of militarism. The modernization model, in contrast, depicts military intervention as a rupture with the past, intervention on behalf of progress rather than against it. Military officers, given their middle class roots, and their relatively advanced training (especially if trained in the US or Western Europe) and disciplined organization, are the leading edge of modernity which makes its inevitable way into traditional society. The process of modernization--for example, urbanization, industrialization, the commercialization of agriculture, the expansion of wage labor, and spread of secular values--disrupts traditional political practices, economic relations, and social norms. The military's opportunity to intervene is the result of the inability of people and governments to manage these rapid changes. The disorder accompanying modernization fuses the issues of national security and development within the military mind, giving officers the motive to intervene. Their capacity to intervene is a given since civilian leadership is in disarray. ₈

The political culture and modernization models were popularized in the 1950s and 1960s. Critiques followed on their heels, attributing militarism to dependent development, upper class domination, and imperialism. In the economy and social class model, the military has the role of protecting a system which maintains elite domination and preserves an inequitable distribution of land and low-wage or coerced labor. Economic stress and heightened class conflict provide opportunities for intervention. Typically, military interventions are elite reactions to reformist governments, or to middle and lower class opposition movements. This literature rarely spells out the source of officers' motives and capacity to intervene. It is apparently assumed that military institutional interests and ideals automatically predispose most officers to serve the upper class. ₉ And, barring a strong guerrilla movement, officers face little resistance to their armed might; the capacity to intervene is a given. ₁₀

The imperialism model depicts Latin American militarism as a product of US aid and machinations. The opportunity to intervene appears when the US government perceives a threat to its security and economic interests. US ideological training supplies officers with a rationalization (motive) for intervention, and US military aid and technical training increases the military's capacity to intervene. ₁₁

The institutional and structural models of militarism reviewed here give us diverse images of the military: a reactionary institution, a predator, a modernizing force, a tool of the upper class, and an agent of the US government. Of course, most of the works cited above are more nuanced than depicted, and there are important differences among the authors I have grouped together. However, this brief review illustrates that the literature on the military and militarism varies widely in terms of its attention to, and definition of, the military's opportunity, motive, and capacity to intervene in politics. We are left with fundamentally different arguments about the causes of militarism; we are still stuck in a theoretical thicket.

An examination of Guatemalan military rebellions does not untangle this thicket. As will be shown, there was no consistent pattern to the Guatemalan army's opportunity, motive, and capacity to intervene in politics over the years 1931-1966. Military rebellions occurred under diverse conditions, officers rebelled with different motives (motives differed even within a rebel faction), and the capacity to intervene varied widely, as did the outcomes of the rebellions. The one constant throughout this period is that all military rebellions reflected institutional grievances, that is, officer discontent with promotions, salaries and benefits, professionalization measures, or the army's mission and autonomy.

Existing arguments about militarism work for certain moments in Guatemala's past, or capture aspects of that past. Yet they falter when stretched across time, when tested against the broader historical record. ₁₂ What is needed is a more comprehensive approach to militarism with which we examine the military institution and a variety of structures in order to understand this varying opportunity, motive, and capacity.

Since institutional grievances were the one constant, a study of Guatemalan militarism should look inside the military institution (organization, rules, training, mission, factions), and at the government policies which led to those grievances. An examination of these rebellions, grievances, and government military policies, then helps us determine the relevant structural factors of militarism. In the case of Guatemala, as will be shown, officer grievances were responses to the efforts of successive administrations to modernize the armed forces, ensure its loyalty and subordination, and use it to further the regimes national development agenda. These efforts did modernize the army to some extent (greater fighting ability, more efficient administration), and resulted in some infrastructural development, but they also resulted in a fractious, rebellious officer corps, and a military institution increasingly jealous of its prerogatives.

As to structure, the political culture and modernization models are not very helpful in explaining these military policies and their results. The notion of civilian support of military intervention and of a military identity as modernizers are crucial, but they are best understood as outcomes of material conditions rather than some amorphous cultural predisposition or a bitter struggle between modernizers and traditionalists. The imperialism and economy/social class models are much more helpful, though only if we cut back on their instrumentalism. Finally, the Guatemalan case requires attention to the state, and to the ways Guatemalan rulers tried to strengthen and centralize state authority in order to integrate and develop the nation.

In brief, this history argues that Guatemalan rulers failed to keep the army in the barracks because they faced a set of heavy constraints laid on them by the US government, the predominance of agroexport producers, and the weakness of their state. This study will show that US aid and training did not create an army disposed to intervene in politics on behalf of US interests. Yet the US did provide opportunities for military intervention by weakening civilian rule, through direct opposition or by establishing self- destructive, clientelist relationships. Also, the absence of warmaking, together with the predominance of agroexport production, left the military with little to do but police the countryside, giving officers a stake in rural labor and land policies. The weak Guatemalan state resting on this agroexport economy increased this stake by repeatedly depending on the army as a manager and workforce for its development projects. This dependence on the military for policing and working in the countryside gave officers a vested interest in nominally civilian policies, and inculcated a military identity as saviors of the nation, the officers self- perception that they had the most skills, knowledge, and discipline, to maintain order and promote development in Guatemala.

This history and argument is much larger than what can appear in this article. The intention is to present sufficient evidence, enough logic, to convince readers that current theories of militarism are in need of reevaluation, that historical attention to the military institution is necessary to any account of militarism, and that the approach employed here warrants further use.

The Guatemalan Military under US Imperialism

US government officials and North American businessmen have long been powerful actors in Guatemala's political development. The US government declared Central America a vital interest in 1823 with the Monroe Doctrine, which warned European states that any attempt to extend their power into the Western hemisphere would be considered a direct threat to US national security. However, the US did not have the strength, or compelling interest, to act on the Monroe Doctrine in Guatemala until the latter nineteenth century, when its businessmen began to surge abroad, as its merchant and naval fleets multiplied, and as its public mind became fully entranced with the notion of Manifest Destiny.

Since the turn of the century, US companies had dominated Guatemala's banana production, rail transport, and merchant shipping. After WW I, US corporations also ran the country's electric utility and international airline. US businesses enjoyed generous tax, land, and capital transfer concessions which revealed and perpetuated the inability of the Guatemalan state to fully govern the national economy. Along with handsome profit margins, these concessions gave US businessmen a large stake in Guatemalan politics, and therefore a powerful motive to use bribes and their contacts in the US State or Commerce Departments to maintain their privileged position within Guatemala. ₁₃

This mix of economic interests and security goals, along with a missionary ideology, would govern US relations with Guatemala over the years 1931-1966, shaping the way US imperialism played out in Guatemala. The huge imbalance of power between the two countries made this imperialism a stark condition, a tight constraint on Guatemalan development. But US imperialism was also a project. With its array of tools--recognition, diplomatic pressure, economic agreements, economic and military aid and advice, threat or use of force--the US government worked to subordinate the interests and ideals of Guatemalans to their own. The intensity with which the US pursued this project grew alongside the relative expansion of US power. This intensity also varied with the perceived threat, picking up during the world wars, and after 1948, when the Cold War began to heat up, and again with the 1959 Cuban revolution. However, even when US officials worked especially hard, their imperialistic project suffered setbacks, specifically in regard to the Guatemalan military. ₁₄

A major constraint the US laid on Guatemalan politics was its policy of recognition. Any group or individual aspiring to rule Guatemala required US recognition, not because of any sort of moral opprobrium attached to non-recognition, but because US recognition was key to international finance, investment, and trade agreements. As one Guatemalan official ruefully commented in 1957, though it was a difficult thing for a Guatemalan to admit, no government could survive in Guatemala unless it was acceptable to the United States Government." ₁₅ Whenever a regime was in trouble--Ubico in 1943-44; Arˇvalo, 1944-49; Arbenz, 1952-54; a military junta and Flores Aveda-o, 1957; Ydigoras, 1960-63--Guatemalans would visit with US Embassy officials, subtly or directly requesting US support for their electoral bid or seizure of power. Of course, US officials always carefully denied their involvement in Guatemala's domestic politics, but between themselves they would discuss the search for and support of leaders amenable to US interests, and hindering those who were not. ₁₆

US support ensured Ubico's presidential victory in 1931; US coolness assured his resignation and the ouster of his successor, General Ponce, during 1944 revolution. The US government financed and supervised Coronel Castillo Armas' Liberation of Guatemala in the well-documented 1954 intervention. A military junta assumed power after a raucous presidential election following Castillo's assassination in 1957. US pressure convinced junta members to resign. In the subsequent presidential campaign, the US convinced its favorite candidate, Coronel Josˇ Cruz Salazar, to bow out of a deadlocked election and give Ydigoras the presidency, the only way the US could secure the defeat of the Revolutionary Party (which included former supporters of Arˇvalo and Arbenz). US recognition supported the rise of the Peralta military government in 1963 and the US successfully pressed the Peralta regime to return to formal constitutional democracy by 1966. ₁₇

Yet the US's ability to determine who ruled in Guatemala did not necessarily mean in it could shape and control the Guatemalan military, however much it tried. The US's first significant involvement with the Guatemalan military began in 1931 when President Ubico requested a North American military officer to direct the Escuela Politˇcnica, Guatemala's military academy (previously, various Europeans and Guatemalans had run the Academy). US officers would direct the Politˇcnica for the next fourteen years, until Guatemala's revolutionary government decided to return the directorship to Guatemalans. Ubico's request for a North American officer was emblematic of the reorientation of the Guatemalan Army away from Europe and towards the US. English replaced French as the principal second language taught in the Politˇcnica, and uniforms were redesigned to match those of the US Army. Guatemala purchased an increasing proportion of its arms and munitions from the US. A growing number of Guatemalan officers received advanced training in US bases, particularly after the 1944 Revolution, and even more after the Cuban Revolution in 1959, when the US became intent on turning the Guatemalan army into an effective counterinsurgency force. ₁₈

The impact of US training on the Guatemalan military over this three decade period, and its relationship to militarism, were ambiguous. Ubico, the North American directors, and their superiors in Washington, had high praise for US efforts in the Politˇcnica. US directors had ended corrupt practices of previous administrations, boosted entrance requirements, updated the curriculum and training program, and improved the Academy's buildings and grounds. US training may even have played a role in the success of the revolutionaries in 1944. Those commanding the rebels' artillery and tanks had been US-trained, and, according to one impressed US military observer, their performance against the loyal troops had followed "approved modern lines." ₁₉

However, some graduates of the US-directed program (including Carlos Castillo Armas, who directed the Politˇcnica from 1946-48, and who would lead the US-backed invasion in 1954) complained of the over-emphasis on athleticism, the rote education, and the arbitrary discipline, which did little to produce good officers. ₂₀ Outside teams of US evaluators during the war years did not have much good to say either. The Guatemalan Army, concluded a FBI team in 1944, "is considered to be inadequate in number, poorly trained and poorly equipped. It is doubtful whether many of the soldiers have ever fired their rifles." ₂₁

One reason that the US directorship did not have that much of an impact on the Guatemalan Army's fighting skills was that only about ten percent of the officer corps were academy graduates, the rest were line officers, soldiers who had climbed up the ranks by virtue of their merit, luck, or political acumen. Apart from this ten percent, the few pilots and other officers Ubico allowed to be trained in the US (more went to Mexico), the US had little chance to train the Guatemalan Army. ₂₂

Another reason was the racist condescension of US officers during the Ubico era, who did not believe that many Guatemalans, especially Indians (which in the North American lexicon meant any non-white officer), could handle sophisticated training--which perhaps explains the heavy US stress on form and discipline. ₂₃ Even after the number of US-trained officers increased, it does not appear that the military's fighting skills improved markedly. ₂₄ In 1960, after five years of US military assistance and training, Guatemala still did not have a combat-ready battalion, according to the US military's criteria. ₂₅ The Army's lackluster performance against a small guerrilla movement in the early 1960s suggests that either US training was ineffective, or being neutralized by other factors. ₂₆ US officials, incapable of taking responsible for their program's failures, blamed the lack of progress on the peculiar nature of President Ydigoras and "the impressive inefficiency and disinterest of the officials in charge of counter-insurgency." ₂₇

Training was also about shaping the military mind, as both critics and advocates of US training have noted. US politicians thought that the training program would expose foreign officers to our democratic government, our mode of life with salutary results. ₂₈ Some scholars argued that by "rubbing shoulders" with US officers, Latin American officers would develop a greater sense of professionalism and public service. ₂₉ Critics, in contrast, have pointed to the number of Guatemalan officers trained in US schools, noted the military's violent repression accompanying counterinsurgency action (which really began in earnest with Coronel Arana Osorio's brutal 1966-68 campaign in Zacapa--after the period in question), and concluded that US military training made Guatemalan soldiers not only better oppressors, but more willing ones. ₃₀

Certainly, the US government attempted to indoctrinate Guatemalan officers, to convince them that Guatemalan leftists were either members of a pernicious international communist conspiracy, or being used by communists. But the anti-communist message was nothing new to Guatemalan officers; civilian politicians and military officers had been decrying communists long before extensive US training began. Even after 1954, anti-communism was less an ideological commitment than a convenient means to justify repression, or draw political support and aid dollars from US officials. ₃₁ Furthermore, by their own admission, US officials in 1963 had yet to convince the Guatemalan government and military to share their hypersensitive (and equally pernicious) anti-communism. Also, the training could go awry. An estimated twenty of the military rebels involved in the 1960 November 13 movement--the embryo of the guerrilla movement that would be active until recently--had received some sort of US training. Two of the principal rebel leaders, Lieutenants Yon Sosa and Turcio Lima, had completed US counterinsurgency courses. ₃₂

Clearly, the advocates of US training were overconfident, but the critics, too, have exaggerated the impact of US training. Both arguments rest on the condescending notion that Guatemalan officers were putty in the hands of US military advisors. There is yet no study or evidence backing the assumption that several weeks or months under US instructors was enough to turn them into replicas of (idealized) apolitical US officers or willing servants of US foreign policy. In other words, there was no straightforward correlation between US training and the political behavior and ideology of Guatemalan officers. ₃₃

The same held true for US aid. First of all, factions conducted almost all military rebellions in Guatemala during the period in question, so it would make little sense to look for a causal connection between the amount of US military aid and military rebellions or coups. Such an equation treats a divided military as a unitary dependent variable (along with equating all rebellions and coups). ₃₄ The two times when the military did act as a whole-- refusing to defend the Arbenz regime in the face of a US-backed invasion, and the military coup of 1963--there was little or no fighting involved. US arms, munitions, or grants for specific programs such as officer housing or Civic Action, mattered little in those two cases. Weapons and fighting skills, though important to an outcome of a military rebellion, were less important than stealth, planning, and leadership of the opposing forces, and the conditions surrounding the intervention (e.g., widespread civilian discontent, economic crisis, etc.). ₃₅

One way US aid may have directly contributed to military rebellions was its support of Air Force modernization. Ubico purchased or received planes from the US, but (astutely) refused to allow the Air Force to arm them. After 1944, however, more surplus US planes were added, as well as armed, making the Air Force a crucial unit to win over for any military faction plotting against the government. ₃₆ The modernization of the Air Force also contributed to inter-institutional friction as military pilots grew to believe themselves members of an elite branch of the military. ₃₇ Another US impact was the denial of weapons sales to Guatemala. After 1948, the US began refusing to sell arms to the Guatemalan military and blocking weapons sales from other countries. The US also denied Mutual Security aid in 1952 because Guatemala had not signed the Rio Pact (regarding Inter-American collective defense). While it is speculation at this point of the research, one of the reasons why officers betrayed Arbenz in 1954 was because his policies weakened their institution. If Arbenz could not deliver the goods, they would wait for someone who could. ₃₈

Military aid, with advice and training, shaped the military's organization and improved its logistical and educational capacity. US military aid supported the creation of the Guatemalan Army's first intelligence agency in 1946 (though by 1966 the Guatemalan army still depended on US officer to supply intelligence on the guerrillas) and mapping agency in 1956 (self-sufficient by 1961, according to US officials). It enabled the establishment of a small navy (1958--equipped more for surveillance and transport than combat), underwrote the ambitious Civic Action program (1961), and funded projects such as officer housing (1955), and literacy and vocational education for soldiers (1961). ₃₉

Yet US military aid did not translate into significant growth of Guatemalan defense spending, nor an increase in the size of the armed forces. Under Ubico, the military's share of the Guatemalan budget hovered around 19%. It dropped to an average of 10% during the Arˇvalo and Arbenz governments, and moved between 8 and 9% under Castillo and Ydigoras (with a momentary high of 10.1% in 1958). The size of the military dropped relative to the Guatemalan population--the number of military personnel (excluding civilians employees) per 1000 Guatemalans slipped from 3.4 to 2.4 over the years 1931-1960. However, military spending per soldier increased dramatically after the 1944 Revolution, reflecting rising salaries and benefits, weapons acquisitions, and the expanding range of military activities (jumping from 274 to 1,121 quetzales a soldier). ₄₀

We should also keep in mind that entire US aid package--military and economic--left the Guatemalan government more disposable funds for its entire array of programs. Total US aid during 1954-1963 represented about 12% of total Guatemalan government expenditures over the same period. ₄₁ This help was crucial to the Castillo and Ydigoras administrations, which faced budget shortfalls. Without it, these regimes would have found it difficult to maintain the benefits and perquisites--subsidized housing, health care, insurance, commissary privileges--granted the military during the revolutionary decade, along with social programs for the populace. As it was, the Ydigoras administration was three months behind on government pay (included that of officers) by the time of the 1963 coup, which no doubt contributed to the military's decision to take over the government. ₄₂

This suggests another consequence of US aid: it diminished the need of Guatemalan leaders to deal with the thorny issue of raising revenue. It was thorny enough with US aid: coup attempts followed Castillo and Ydigoras' attempts to raise taxes, and Colonel Peralta lost ground with the civilian coalition that had supported the military coup after announcing an income tax together with a strong anti-corruption law. ₄₃ The US did not help the Ydigoras and Peralta government in this matter by requiring that they institute- -or at least try to institute--income taxes to qualify for Alliance for Progress funds. This was sort of like demanding that a sick person shoot himself in order to get a doctor's help.

Despite all the aid, US officials were repeatedly disappointed in their effort to shape the Guatemalan military. Military aid, like training, simply did not matter if Guatemalan leadership was not serious about translating that aid and training into increased fighting capacity. For example, contrary to the US government's wishes, Ubico declined to increase defense spending during the war years, refused to arm the Air Force, nor did he take full advantage of Lend-Lease assistance. ₄₄ In the early 1960s, the US poured money, arms, and training hours into the military and police, though the Guatemalan government did employ or deploy its security forces as US officials wished. ₄₅

Nor could US officials cultivate a close relationship with Guatemalan officers, as Secretary of State Dulles had instructed the US Embassy after the 1954 coup. ₄₆ In fact, US officials never really trusted Guatemalan officers. As noted above, the military failed to exploit US aid and training in the ways intended. Typically, US officials blamed Guatemalans for all the problems in US military aid and training (as well as for the failures of its economic aid). US officials also complained of a lack of good intelligence on the military; they were often in the dark about which officers were backing US interests, and which were obstructing them. ₄₇

Equally significant, various military factions revolted against US-backed regimes. A good example was the 1954 Cadet Rebellion. Castillo angered military officers after announcing the integration of his US-financed Liberation army with the regular army. Sparked by the hazing some Politˇcnica cadets received at the hands of drunken Liberation soldiers, about two thirds of the cadet company attacked a Liberation Army unit bivouaced nearby. A few officers joined the cadets, but not enough to ensure a victory. Though the High Command stopped other units eager to join the cadets, senior officers praised the actions of the cadet in a full-page ad in a Guatemalan daily. Castillo's own Defense Minister, upon signing a truce agreement with the cadets, told them "I congratulate you for this glorious act which vindicated the good name of the army." ₄₈

There were other examples. A military junta assumed power after Castillo's assassination 1957, against US wishes. The US pressured the junta to resign, likely because it was flirting with members of Revolutionary Party and other former arbencistas supposedly tainted with communism. ₄₉ The 1960 November 13 rebellion and the Air Force rebellion of 1962 were both moves to oust Ydigoras, who, though vexing to the US government, still had its support. The US would give up on Ydigoras in 1963 and recognize the subsequent military government, but Colonel Peralta's administration soon frustrated US officials with its refusal to accept US advice and its reluctance to accept aid on US terms. Complicating the matter, former liberacionistas, formerly clients of the US, plotted against Peralta. ₅₀

One of the reasons why military factions could rebel after the 1954 coup is that the US kept undermining the regimes it tried to direct. On the constant advice of US officials, Castillo reversed land and labor reforms, ending any chance of winning peasants and workers to his side, and made a slow, stumbling return to formal democracy, which cost him support among middle class groups. Castillo caused further conflict through his patronage of Liberation officers and other allies rewarded with land. Yet Castillo likely had little choice but to use patronage since his rule rested on a weak base of bickering anti-communist groups and agroexport elites, who soon grew disenchanted anyway with the administrative and fiscal confusion surrounding Castillo's administration. ₅₁ He ending up paying for his Liberation role, and client status, with his life.

The heavy presence of the US in the Castillo administration tainted his party, the Movimiento de Liberacion Nacional (MDN). During the presidential campaign following Castillo's death, opponents of the Liberation painted the MDN as a creature of the US, and defeated its candidate. Ydigoras thus came to power upon a wave of anti-Castillo, and therefore anti-US, sentiment, but he quickly bowed to the will of the US government. Like his predecessor, Ydigoras imagined himself--and was imagined by US officials--to occupy the center between middle class revolutionaries and conservative agroexport elites. In reality, Ydigoras quickly found himself pinned in a political corner by the contradictory demands of diverse middle class groups, elites, military officers, and the US government. One of his more significant blunders, one caused by the US, occurred in 1960 when it was discovered that he had allowed the US government to establish in Guatemala a training base for the Bay of Pigs invasion, resulting in the November 13th military rebellion ₅₂ Ydigoras assumption of the client role, probably unavoidable given US pressure, seemed to give his administration more problems than benefits.

The US government put the weight of its regional hegemony behind Castillo, and later Ydigoras. The US successfully used its power to turn Guatemala into an anti-communist ally, one friendly to US business interests. What US involvement and intervention could not ensure was a stable regime, democratic rule, steady economic growth, or a peaceful climate for US investors. The demands the US government made on its clients only exacerbated the problems which had figured so largely in the 1944 Revolution and the subsequent "Decade of Spring": land reform, labor rights, middle class political participation, and a restive military. Rather than building a showcase, the US only weakened their client regimes, providing the military an opportunity to intervene.

A few within the State Department may have had an inkling that all was not well with US policy in Guatemala, but apparently upper echelon officials were clueless. Assistant Secretary of State Robert Woodward advised that Castillo should avoid "unnecessarily dictatorial, repressive policies," and seek counsel from Presidents Galvez, Somoza, and Osorio [respectively, the dictators of Honduras, Nicaragua, and El Salvador] who have had "the benefit of . . . long experience in winning the support of their peoples." Unfortunately, US officials did not just give absurd advice. They arrogantly assumed the responsibility for transforming an entire nation, while simultaneously blaming Guatemalans for all the failures of US efforts.

In sum, this brief discussion leads to the following points about US imperialism as a causal factor of Guatemalan militarism. During the period under study, US aid and training did not directly shape the political behavior of officers. Though Guatemalan civilian and military authorities exploited US aid, they did not always do so in ways intended by their North American patrons. US interests and ideals did not become interventionist motives for Guatemalan officers. Though the US supported the modernization of the armed forces, and its counter-insurgency capacity, it did not contribute to the capacity of officers to intervene (which would have depended more on creating institutional solidarity than arms). However, the US did create opportunities for military factions to intervene. The US tried to determine who ruled in Guatemala, and shape the policies they were to implement, but this project weakened the regimes it tried to control. The clientelist relationship cost Guatemalan rulers legitimacy, and the actions they took on behalf of the US mobilized opposition.

What attention to the impact of US imperialism does not tell us is why the Guatemalan government and military proved resistant to US designs, or why the military factions should rebel against governments both supported and opposed by the US. For that, we must examine the relationship of the Guatemalan military to the nation's agroexport economy, and the efforts of successive regimes, from Ubico to Peralta, to build up and hold onto state power.

The Guatemalan Military within the Agroexport Economy

Ubico took office in 1931 amidst the Great Depression. He inherited an economy driven by coffee and banana exports, and a large peasant subsistence sector. Guatemalan nationals shared the coffee sector (production and processing) with foreigners-- including a small, powerful contingent of Germans until 1941. ₅₃ US businessmen dominated other sectors. The United Fruit Company, the country's largest landlord, controlled banana production and merchant shipping, and other US companies monopolized Guatemala's railroads, electric service, and air transport. Investment capital for private or public projects came primarily from abroad, particularly the US after the First World War. ₅₄

This economy rested on a highly inequitably distribution of land and a rural labor regime which, until 1944, had been overtly coerced. By 1950, a small number of families, and United Fruit, controlled an overwhelming proportion of Guatemala's arable land, much of which remained uncultivated. ₅₅ Industrial and craft laborers, principally in the Capital, attempted repeatedly to organize, but were largely unsuccessful until the Revolution. ₅₆ The much larger rural labor sector fared no better under a system of forced labor drafts (ended in 1920), debt peonage, and in 1934, Ubico's Vagrancy Law, which forced those without proof of employment or sufficient land to work either for the planters or on the governments public works crews. ₅₇

The skewed distribution of landholding, the dependence on low- wage labor, locked Guatemala into a development trajectory highly vulnerable to international prices, difficult to diversify, and one which hindered the construction of a self-sustaining internal market. And since public revenue depended primarily on export and import tariffs, the Guatemalan government's services and projects were tied to the fortunes of the agroexport economy. A downturn meant retrenchment or a budget crisis. Economic crises hit the populace, cracked governments, creating conditions for military intervention. ₅₈ This has been one of the principal points in the literature on dependent development and bureaucratic-authoritarianism (though the latter deals with nations with relatively large urban labor sectors, which Guatemala lacked). Civilian regimes, much less democratic ones, could not survive the economic stress and class strife accompanying economies highly vulnerable to international market conditions, greatly reliant on foreign powers for capital and technology, and subject to the economic and security designs of the United States. ₅₉

Ubico pushed Guatemala through the Great Depression with a combination of retrenchment, monetary restraints, and infrastructural development projects built with the hands of coerced labor. But World War Two cut Guatemala off from lucrative European markets, inflation soared, the Gross Domestic Product fell by almost a third over the years 1941-44. The opposition Ubico faced in 1944 was not only a democratic, nationalist movement, but a coalition of middle class groups angry over declining real income and ambivalent elites whose economic opportunities had diminished. ₆₀

Arˇvalo and Arbenz were fortunate to have high international coffee prices throughout their administrations, leaving them one less problem to worry about as they enacted controversial labor and land reforms, and pursued a nationalist development program which put them at odds with the US government and businesses. Castillo and Ydigoras (1954-63) were less fortunate. Despite their pro-foreign investment policy, they were unable to draw in as much US capital as expected. Import prices outran export income; Guatemala's trade balance went into the red after 1955. This, combined with inflation, declining revenues and mounting public debt, the inability to reform taxation, and administrative bungling, left both Castillo and Ydigoras with budget pains and severe political headaches. ₆₁ Military factions plotted coups and rebelled several times during this period (1955, 1957, 1960, 1962), and in a rare display of unity, removed Ydigoras in 1963, establishing a military government. Arˇvalo's return sparked the coup--the US deemed him a communist sympathizer, and many military officers considered him guilty of the death of a presidential candidate, Colonel Francisco Arana, in 1949. Yet the new Chief of State, Colonel Peralta, stated that one of the army's primary motives for taking over the government was "the imperative necessity of rebuilding the shattered national economy." ₆₂

This leads to two points about the relationship between the performance of the agroexport economy and politics and militarism in Guatemala. First, there was a strong line of continuity connecting all the diverse regimes during the period under study. All rested on an narrow agroexport economy with a weak domestic market, highly vulnerable to international conditions, and occupied by a powerful enclave of foreign investors. Except for some faltering efforts by the Arˇvalo and Arbenz to promote the domestic agricultural and industrial sectors, there was no fundamental change in the trajectory of economic development. Unlike Brazil and the Southern Cone countries, which moved to bureaucratic- authoritarianism as the their import substitution industrialization (ISI) efforts ran out of steam, the Guatemalan military government arose at no particular stage--neither heading away from or towards ISI. The most that can be said is that the appearance of the military state accompanied an intensified promotion of agroexports and foreign investment. The character of the Guatemalan economy is not a very helpful factor in explaining militarism since it varied so little, while the pattern and outcomes of military rebellions varied a great deal.

Second, the Guatemalan economy did vary greatly in terms of economic stress (or performance), as measured by GDP per capita, the volume and return on agroexports, the trade balance, real income, or capital flows. Yet as a causal factor of militarism, economic stress does not take us very far. It does not tell us much about the timing of specific military interventions, or why so few of the plots and rebellions were successful. Military factions did not rebel against Ubico while he wrestled with the Great Depression (1931-33), a time of economic stress if there ever was one. As well, military factions rebelled numerous times against Arˇvalo while the national economy was rebounding nicely from its wartime low. Economic stress was not only an insufficient factor of militarism, it was simply an unnecessary factor at times.

That said, we still have to consider the political ramifications of the agroexport economy. As Barrington Moore stated in his classic text, The Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy, Both the system of maintaining peasant society intact, but squeezing more out of it and the use of servile or semiservice labor on large units of cultivation require strong political methods to extract the surplus, keep the labor force in its place, and in general make the system work. ₆₃ In Guatemala, this system meant the concentration of arable land among coffee planters and the United Fruit Company, low wage labor (seasonal on the coffee plantations), combined with small subsistence farms of campesinos. Guatemalan rulers had a keen interest in maintaining this system not only because that is what elites wanted, but also because the agroexport sector brought in the most government revenue and hard currency for international trade. The strong political methods they employed to maintain the agroexport economy involved the military, along with various police agencies.

However, Guatemalan elites could not have been too pleased with their military's performance. First, junior officers joined middle class revolutionaries to force from office Ubico's successor, General Ponce. The subsequent administration of Arˇvalo changed land and labor laws in favor of rural and urban workers, along with establishing social services and expanding political rights. This presumably contradicted the interests of most Guatemalan elites, and therefore their junior partner should have resisted the revolution with great tenacity.

One reason why the revolution occurred, and why the upper class junior partner was so fickle, was that agroexport elites were not that unified. First, their was a thorny divide between domestic elites and US businessmen. Guatemalan landlords resented the governments preferential treatment of UFCO, which hurt local producers of bananas and allowed UFCO to monopolize and charge high rates for its merchant shipping. They also complained about IRCA and Empresa Electrica monopolies, and their inflated rates. ₆₄ Unlike other Latin American countries, Guatemalan landlords had no powerful associations to represent them, until galvanized into action by the 1952 land reform. ₆₅ They also competed with one another prior to the Revolution for the often illusive peasant workers, leading to acrimonious debates over labor law. ₆₆ Furthermore, there was a great deal of turnover among the first generation of coffee planters (roughly, 1870-1890s), which also implies a lack of cohesion among elites by the time Ubico took office in 1931. ₆₇ Finally, after the establishment of the national army in 1871, few sons of upper class families joined the military. Agroexport elites could not depend on kinship to tie military interests to their own. ₆₈

Yet various cliques of officers and civilians did plot against Arˇvalo, but they all failed. While details concerning all the plots are unknown, in at least two (May, 1945 and March,1949), elites had to bribe junior officers with money and promises of promotions to get them to rebel. Hardly a sign of an intimate relationship between elites and officers. The Honor Guard revolt following Colonel Arana's death--the closest any rebellion came to threatening the Arˇvalo government--was not a plot, but an unplanned, convulsive reaction by officers which civilian opponents of Arˇvalo, such as Miguel Mˇndez Montenegro (not a representative of landlords), attempted to exploit. The weakness of elite linkages to the officer corps were also apparent in the rebellions of 1950 and 1953. In both, small groups of inactive officers and civilians unsuccessfully attempted to take over military bases by surprise. ₆₉

Nor was the military's betrayal of Arbenz in 1954 a solid proof of the instrumental argument. The military did not back away from Arbenz because he attacked elite interests--the military had publicly committed support for Arbenz's land reform. ₇₀ Rather, they betrayed him in the interest of institutional self-preservation. Arbenz had angered officers in declining to shut down worker and peasant brigades that activists were establishing; ₇₁ and because it was unwilling to take the risk of finding out whether defeating Castillo's tiny Liberation Army would bring a severe US response. ₇₂

Even if the army was not a consistent junior partner of agroexport elites, it still was responsible for rural order. The detection and destruction of opposition groups lay mainly with Ubico's national police, a secret police unit, and its large network of spies (who infiltrated the military as well). ₇₃ Yet there were no police detachments outside departmental capitals. It was up to the army garrisons dotting the countryside help local authorities whenever called upon, and to inform departmental commanders (who were also departmental governors under Ubico) of "novedades" (surprising incidences). ₇₄ In practice, this turned the military into a constabulary and public relief agency. Local commanders intervened in drunken brawls, investigated civilian crimes, and dealt with complaints about abusive civilian authorities or other public problems. They received petitions from the poor for government aid and worked to find housing or food for those left destitute by flooding or other disasters. ₇₅

However, the military was not always up to the task, despite the glowing reports Ubico and his subordinates gave concerning the military. ₇₆ Without an intelligence agency, adequate maps, roads, and telegraph lines, and lacking professionally trained officers and soldiers, the military could not effectively police the countryside. For example, from 1931 to 1935, vandals repeatedly damaged railroads and caused derailments. The military was unable to stop or identify them, and had to hear increasingly angry complaints from UFCO and IRCA. ₇₇

The military also had problems enforcing rural labor law. Before the 1934 Vagrancy Law, landlords had a difficult time of getting and holding onto workers. Though local civilian authorities and the Treasury Police were primarily responsible for labor law, the military was the only agent of state coercion outside of the departmental capitals. The local army garrisons of six to ten men were supposed to keep track of thousands of peasants who were unenthusiastic, at best, about working far from their communities for low pay. It should also be noted that troops were not concentrated in the coffee regions as one might expect, but were stationed at strategic points (the capital, ports, border cities, and key rail depots). ₇₈ Furthermore, it should not be assumed that all military officers worked hard to enforce the labor laws. The low paid garrison commanders had ample opportunity to trade their services for landlord bribes. They were also competing with landlords for labor given mandatory conscription and Ubico's hunger for work crews. ₇₉

The Vagrancy Law, and the Ubico's expansion of roads and telegraph lines, improved the army's ability to track peasant labor. But the military did not resolve the landlords problem of inadequate labor. What really made the military's task easier was the growth of the campesino population, and a corresponding drop in available land for subsistence farming, which freed up labor. Campesinos needed less prodding because a growing number of them had little choice but to work. ₈₀ This, however, created a new set of problems for the military, particularly after the 1944 revolution, as campesinos became increasingly vocal about low wages and lack of land.

The military's rural role declined after the revolution, at least on paper. The 1945 Constitution directed municipios (akin to townships or municipalities) to create their own police units, which were to be under the direction of popularly elected mayors. In line with this constitutional provision, the Arˇvalo government removed departmental and local army garrisons, replacing them with demilitarized National Police forces (renaming it the Civil Guard). On the whole, the number of national police outside the capital doubled by 1950 (military forces did not grow significantly during this period). The military commands were reorganized into seven regional zones, and military units were collapsed into a single regiment within each zone, though the majority of forces would still remain in the capital, and smaller units would continue to guard ports and other strategic points. This reorganization also ended the previous practice of naming the same person to the positions of departmental commander and departmental governor. ₈₁

Ideally, then, the military should have been disentangled from local governing and policing. However, the Army remained involved in rural labor issues, at least until the Labor Code was in place in 1948. The Chief of the Armed Forces, Lieutenant Colonel Arana, sent in troops to end the disputes, against President Arˇvalo's wishes. As well, Arˇvalo's Defense Minister and presumed ally, Major Arbenz, also granted petitions from landlords requesting military action against strikers, and tracked rural labor activists, at least in 1945. ₈₂

This may be so because the Arˇvalo and Arbenz governments continued to fill departmental governorships and top positions in the Civil Guard with Army officers. Though technically inactive, there is no reason to believe these officers ended their relationships with their compa-eros in the barracks. The Arˇvalo government also established military commissioners in all the municipalities. These commissioners were typically well-known residents with some military background, and were responsible for recruitment, overseeing conscription, commanding the local police (or militia), and acting as the military's watchdogs. Many of these commissioners became agents of local opposition to the labor and land reforms introduced by Arˇvalo and Arbenz. ₈₃

The Guatemalan government, from Ubico to Peralta, also kept the military deeply involved in the countryside as an agency of development. Ubico employed the military in his ambitious development campaigns, particularly the expansion of road and telegraph networks, but also the construction of public buildings, and secondary education reform. Under Ubico, the military became a bureaucratic template for development, and a source of workers and managers to for his projects. He militarized the Departments of Roads and Communications, his presidential staff, along with public secondary and normal schools. Militarization meant giving civilian employees a military rank corresponding to their administrative position (e.g., road crew bosses became 1st lieutenants, road engineers became majors), thus placing them within the Army's chain of command as well as under military rather civilian law. Senior and junior military officers were assigned to these departments top and middle level administrators, or to schools as principals. The Army Engineers used peasant recruits and vagrants for their sapper units. Furthermore, Ubico introduced an engineering degree in the Escuela Politˇcnica, and permitted graduates to pursue science degrees at the national university. In this way, relatively quickly, Ubico was able to muster a large workforce, and expand the number of trained technicians and managers for his infrastructural projects, without contradicting his general policy of retrenchment. ₈₄

The military's role in development did not fundamentally change after the 1944 revolution. President Arˇvalo demilitarized Public Works, Communications, and Public Education, and ended forced labor for government projects. Still, the 1945 Constitution mandated military participation in the governments communications, forestry and agricultural projects. Arˇvalo handed the military the task of colonizing the Petˇn (which later regimes continued). Army officers spearheaded Arbenz's ambitious land reform program. Castillo instructed military bases to establish experimental farms and tree nurseries for reforestation projects. Ydigoras and Peralta embraced the US-sponsored Civic Action (initiated in 1960) which sent military units into rural areas to build schools, introduce potable water systems, provide medical services, support agricultural modernization programs, and sponsor boy scout troops and 4-H clubs. ₈₅

In summary, the economy/social class model treats the military as a tool of agroexport elites. This argument makes intuitive sense. The Guatemalan military has recently ended a thirty year counter- insurgency war in which it defended, often ferociously, regimes which were unwilling or unable to address a wide array of economic, social, and political inequities. Since these inequities benefited agroexport elites, presumably the military warred against its own people on the elite's behalf. ₈₆ This recent past then spreads throughout the entire history of Guatemala: the military has always acted for elites, and done so effectively.

The account presented here suggests that both notions are exaggerations. It is true that we have to pay attention to the agroexport economy in order to understand the military's roles in domestic security and development (roles which the US government reinforced after 1954, as described above). Yet it is too simplistic to say that Guatemalan militarism was a response to economic crises, or depict the military as a weapon of upper class rule. There was no consistent correspondence between economic stress and military rebellions, and various military factions repeatedly demonstrated streaks of independence. Sometimes their rebellions served middle class revolutionaries, other times they served agroexport elites. To better understand why this was so, and why successive regimes depended on the military as an overseer and workforce of state development projects, we turn to an examination of Guatemalan state formation.

The Guatemalan Military and State Formation

In his study of European state formation, Charles Tilly convincingly argues that war makes states. In their efforts to defend or expand territory, European states built up the administrative capacity to manage warmaking and extract manpower and resources from the populace necessary to wage war. State structures and policies varied according to the degree of urbanization and commercialization within their territories. In states of relatively high urbanization and commercialization, central bureaucracies were smaller, governments depended more on indirect taxes (e.g. tariffs) to fund warmaking, and traded political rights and social services for the their right to conscript soldiers. In states with dispersed populations and dependent on agriculture, state machineries were bulkier, and depended more on direct taxes (e.g. land and head taxes) and force to get sufficient resources and men for war. ₈₇

What, however, drives state formation when there is little warmaking? Central America gained independence from Spain without armed struggle, and there was only intermittent warmaking during Guatemala's failed effort to build and control a Central American Union from the 1830s to the 1880s. Guatemala did not even have a permanent national army until 1871 (which, not incidentally, appeared alongside the Barrios reforms initiating the agroexport economy). The most recent war the Army had fought when Ubico took office in 1931 was a brief, dismal conflict with El Salvador in 1906, in which there were more casualties from hunger and dysentery than bullets. ₈₈

If war did not make the Guatemalan state, one could argue that coffee did. Of course, promoting and protecting coffee production did not provide the Guatemalan state with the same sort of challenges, or developmental imperatives, as would have organized violence. For one thing, it was cheaper to wrest land and labor from basically unarmed Indian villages (and land from the Catholic Church) than it would have been to prepare for and conduct repeated wars. The Guatemalan state was not pushed to build up the administrative capacity to wage war and extract revenue. Although there was some give and take between rulers and Indian communities over land and labor, the Guatemalan state did not confront the same intense wave of claims urban middle and lower classes gave their states in Europe. ₈₉

Thus Guatemala represents an inversion of Tilly's model of state formation: an agricultural state with a weak internal market, an overwhelmingly rural population, and a small central bureaucracy which lightly taps elites for revenue through trade tariffs. When Ubico took office, few could challenge the Guatemalan military and police (though it appears that smugglers and rural workers could evade them rather easily). State presence outside of the national and departmental capitals was faint, and its legitimacy rested primarily with a tiny minority of landlord and foreign elites. The state offered few social services, made marginal contributions to the economy, and left municipal government in the hands of local elites. If one were to map state activities and presence outside the national and departmental capitals, the landscape would be dotted with telegraph operators, mailmen, public school teachers, with heavier marks for the small military units in rural villages. There simply were few state representatives out where the great majority of the population lived. When a campesino did see a state representative near home, it was likely a soldier. ₉₀

Successive regimes, from Ubico to Peralta, attempted to strengthen central state authority and extend its reach throughout national territory, with mixed success. It was a difficult task given a populace resistant to direct taxes, a small internal market which did not generate enough cash for land and income taxes, and the lack of state machinery to impose and manage direct taxes. As well, the small number of formally educated people meant a lack of trained personnel for government employment. And that venerable sign of state weakness, patronage (labeled corruption by those who are not beneficiaries of the patronage), further undermined the selection of qualified personnel. The state could not extract from subjects the resources and trained labor necessary to bolster state authority and intervene effectively to resolve political conflicts and contradictions resulting from the agroexport economy. ₉₁

Guatemalan rulers went about resolving these problems in very different ways, but they all depended on the military to help resolve them. To use the military to strengthen state authority, they all attempted to professionalize the military, purchase its loyalty, and use it to further the states development projects. The pursuit of these goals, though, contributed to military strife, and to the eventual rise of a military state in 1963.

The army Ubico inherited was small, ill-equipped and trained for the most part (in comparison to armies of industrialized countries). Its officers, except for generals and those occupying choice command or administrative positions, received low salaries. Officers were mainly Ladinos; soldiers were primarily conscripted from Indian and Ladino rural villages. Typically, soldiers served for a mandatory two years. The length of officer service varied widely, and most officers were of the line. A survey of officer occupations in 1934 shows that only ten percent were labeled militares, that is, career soldiers. Nearly half were engaged in agriculture, and twenty percent were craftsmen of some sort. Less than a third were engaged in a conceivably middle class occupations. ₉₂ Most of the career soldiers were graduates of the Escuela Politˇcnica, which put cadets through a rigorous three year program (four after 1941). Those cadets who completed the program entered the military with the equivalent of a high school degree, and a First Lieutenant commission.

Ubico's military reforms suggested that he was not really about increasing the fighting skills of the army, or making soldiering a career. These reforms were really about nation-building and producing development administrators. ₉₃ Ubico did spend resources refurbishing the military academy and military forts in the national and departmental capitals, but this was more a matter of form than substance. The most significant changes he brought to the Politˇcnica's curriculum were the addition of more English and engineering, along with introducing courses on Universal History and Simon Bolivar and the Independence of Latin America. The number of academic officers entering the ranks did not increase significantly. He did not push advanced officer training (at home or abroad), nor did the training of ordinary soldiers improve. He never armed the Air Force, and probably would not have modernized the army's weaponry were it not for US pressure during WW II. Equally important, he did not increase military salaries and benefits during his thirteen year rule. Ubico wanted sharp-looking representatives of state power, but he did not really need them to fight well. ₉₄

Why, anyway, should Ubico have worked hard to build up the fighting strength and skills of the military? There were no significant external threats, even during the Second World War, whatever US officials might have said. As to internal threats, Ubico's secret police and spies were quite effective, at least until the revolutionary movement overwhelmed them in 1944. Ubico's substantive military reforms thus focused on making its administration more efficient and accountable, and on preparing academy officers to be effective managers of national development projects.

Ubico used selective patronage and constant rotation of command assignments to prevent the rise of cliques of formation of opposition. He continued to promote line officers, assimilated civilian professionals (doctors, engineers, lawyers, and technicians) into the ranks, and militarized agencies in charge of roads, public works, and communications, along with secondary schools and his presidential staff. Militarization replicated the military's strict hierarchy and discipline within other nominally civilian state agencies. However, it did not militarize the state so much as it watered down the military institution. Anyone could be an officer as long as he had the skills (not necessarily military) and loyalty Ubico required. Academy officers realized this and complained bitterly to sympathetic US military officials. ₉₅

Along with extending his power over the military, Ubico increased and centralized state authority over society. He took over municipal governments from rural elites by planting his own intendentes in each municipio. He outlawed all parties but his own Partido Liberal Progresista, which then occupied every seat in the Legislative Assembly, and acted as a rubber stamp for the laws Ubico wished enacted. ₉₆ All requests and decisions at the local and regional level had to first pass through central offices in the capital. ₉₇ To ensure his authority, he passed harsh, effective anti- government corruption measures (though likely more effective in central offices than the periphery). ₉₈ The practice of patronage continued, though appointing military and civilian officials based on considerations other than merit countered Ubico's effort to improve administrative efficiency, and expand state power. It also created resentment among those left out of the patronage pie.

Ubico's mix of patronage and modernization worked until middle class revolutionaries forced him to resign in 1944. Junior officers allied with middle class revolutionaries to oust Ubico's successor, General Ponce, when he attempted to steal the presidential election. The military reforms following the revolution revealed the institutional motives behind the junior officers alliance with civilian revolutionaries. The lesson this generation of officers had learned under Ubico was that the administration of the military institution could not be entrusted to those outside barrack walls. The revolutionaries thus flipped Ubico's military policy on its head, attempting to distance the military from the president, make merit the principal criterion for promotions and assignments, modernize the weaponry and tactics of the fighting forces, and turn the military into a more worthwhile career.

The new Constitution and Army by-laws established a Chief of the Armed Forces, selected by Congress based on a list of nominations which the military's Superior Council of National Defense provided. The Armed Forces Chief was to share military administration and command with the Defense Minister. The Superior Council-- consisting of the Chief of Armed Forces, the Defense Minister, the seven Zone Commanders, and thirteen others elected by military officers--was an effort to democratize the officer corps and give it the means to independently resolve internal problems. The new military policy ended the rampant assimilation of civilians, gave officer commissions only to academy graduates (and forcing current line officers seeking advancement to attend the Politˇcnica), and left the powers of promotion and assignment to the High Command rather than the President. As well, weapons and tactics were upgraded, the Politˇcnica's curriculum was revised (the more notable new courses were Applied and Command Psychology, Mechanized Units, and Introduction to the Military Career), and a center of advanced officer training was established. Finally, officers gained free health care for themselves and their families, commissary privileges, subsidized housing, increased pension and life insurance packages, access to low-interest loans, not to mention higher salaries. It should be noted that these benefits were not matched in the civilian sector. ₉₉

These reforms were supposed to transform the military into unified, apolitical body better able to defend the nation and ensure domestic security. However, the Army was anything but this in the two decades following the Revolution. Why? As discussed above, growing US opposition weakened the Arˇvalo and Arbenz administrations, as did US support and demands of the Castillo and Ydigoras governments. The political instability the US fomented (intended and not) provided opportunities for the military to intervene. The agroexport economy left the military the task of rural order, but the rural labor and land reforms of Arˇvalo and Arbenz upset traditional exploitative relations between landlords and peasants. The disorder in the countryside--peasant organizing, strikes, land invasions, landlord vigilantism--invoked a military response. The character of the agroexport economy, and the presence of a powerful US enclave, hamstrung the states ability to raise revenue, hampering its ability to intervene in the nations life (even with extensive US aid after 1954). This fiscal debility led to budget crises during the Castillo and Ydigoras administrations, yet another condition encouraging military intervention.

Within the constraints which US hegemony and the agroexport economy imposed on the Guatemalan state and military, the regime following the Revolution attempted to separate the military from the vagaries of politics, to make it a neutral tool of the state, by granting it extensive independence and benefits. The result was a military jealous of its prerogatives and highly sensitive to threats to its institutional livelihood. For example, in 1949, the Armed Forces Chief Arana and Defense Minister Arbenz went head to head as candidates for the presidency. Arana, a line officer, had elite backing. Arbenz, a Politˇcnica graduate, was the candidate of the revolutionary parties. When it became evident that Arana did not have the support to beat Arbenz, he threatened to take the presidency by force. He was killed in what apparently was a bungled attempt to arrest him. ₁₀₀ Historians have sensibly depicted this as a struggle between revolution and counter-revolution. But there were also institutional issues at stake in this struggle. Arana and Arbenz shared military administration, and had been fighting over the selection of the Air Force Commander, and the members of the Supreme Council of National Defense (who would determine the next Armed Forces Chief). Indirectly, the Honor Guard revolt that followed the death of Arana was about the direction of the revolution. But it was also an outcome of the efforts of the Arˇvalo government, through Arbenz,, to impose its authority on the military institution, to reduce its autonomy. Likewise, it was the response of officers reacting to what appeared to be a government-sponsored assassination of one of their own (officers continued to believe this, contributing to their decision to oppose Arˇvalo's return to Guatemala in 1963). ₁₀₁

Later governments ran into problems when threatening the military's autonomy and benefits. As noted earlier, Arbenz lost military support when refusing to disband worker brigades, whose existence, of course, directly challenged the military institution. Military autonomy declined under Castillo, who terminated the post of Armed Force Chief and disbanded the Supreme Council of National Defense, returning military command and administration to the presidency. He also threw out the regulation banning arbitrary promotions and assimilation of civilians in order to plant his fellow Liberationists--many of whom were line officers--within the military administration, despite the cadet attack on the Liberation Army which regular army officers had praised. ₁₀₂

What happened over the next eight years was an attempt by Castillo and Ydigoras to maintain their control over the officer corps with a mix of selective patronage (a la Ubico) and increased benefits. Castillo inserted his Liberationists into the military; Ydigoras employed his generation of officers who had gained senior ranks under Ubico. Castillo also closed down the Escuela Politˇcnica for a year after the Cadet Rebellion, and attempted to replace it with a new military academy, the Adolfo V. Hall Academy. However, officer resistance to this plan forced him to reopen the Politˇcnica and turn Adolfo V. Hall into a junior military academy training reserve officers. ₁₀₃ Castillo increased the military's life insurance polices (against which soldiers and officers could borrow), increased officer housing, though he personally named the officers to receive the benefit rather than using the blind lottery method previously employed. Ydigoras also provided more housing for officers and non-commissioned officers, and awarded Air Force pilots generous fees for crop-dusting and other non-military services they provided. ₁₀₄

This approach worked until 1963, aided by US support of Castillo and Ydigoras, and ongoing factionalism within the officer corps (line vs. academy officers, Liberationists vs. regular army officers, the Ydigoras generation vs. younger generations). The military did not have the unity, nor enough civilian support, to assert its authority over the government and regain the autonomy it had enjoyed during the Reform Decade. Not for want of trying. Castillo withstood plots in January, 1955 and June, 1957, and then was assassinated by a palace guard in July, 1957. The Guatemalan and US governments concluded that the assassination was the work of a "lone communist fanatic." More likely, it was disaffected members within Castillo's party in collaboration with officers. ₁₀₅ Following the reportedly fraudulent elections in October,1957, a military junta took over (composed of anti-Liberation officers), but opposition from US officials, civilian politicians, and senior officers, forced it to resign. ₁₀₆ Officers rebelled in 1960, citing corruption and the poor economic performance of the Ydigoras regime, and equally significant, they complained of his attacks on the dignity of the National Army, and his use of the National Police to infiltrate and control officers. ₁₀₇ Several months after Defense Minister Peralta and his cohort forced Ydigoras to militarize his cabinet, a group of Air Force Liberationist colonels rebelled unsuccessfully.

The return of Arˇvalo (now deemed a communist sympathizer and therefore an anti-militarist given Castro's dissolution of the Cuban army) prompted Defense Minister Peralta to remove Ydigoras at the end of March, 1963. It was a rather easy move given that the principal political parties wanted a coup, and that the US government had given up on Ydigoras. Peralta finally resolved the split between line and academy officers with a new pension and retirement provisions which in effect forced all line officers to retire. ₁₀₈ The military would again divide, though, as hard-line officers and reformist officers struggled over political and economic policy, with Peralta in the middle trying to moderate between the two wings. However, they did have enough unity in 1966 to force the incoming elected president to grant the military complete administrative and command autonomy. ₁₀₉

If the military coup had been just about regaining autonomy, Peralta would have focused on reforms designed to unify and professionalize the military, along with improving its career prospects. He then would have made way for an elected president as civilians and the US insisted, with ironclad guarantees of institutional autonomy. He did so, but his government was active in non-military areas: It legalized once again peasant associations (under strict state supervision), introduced a limited land reform, inserted government representatives into elite agricultural and industrial associations, thereby reducing elite control over trade policy, and established a political party (Partido Institucional Democratica) that was intended to carry on its program after the 1966 elections. More sinister, Peralta ordered the transfer of the national security archive from the Interior Ministry to the Ministry of National Defense, further increasing the army's control over domestic security. ₁₁₀

Clearly, officers had come to believe that they were capable of developing Guatemala. Gabriel Aguilera Peralta has noted that the participation of junior officers in the Revolution stamped them with an identity as an Army of the People. What every regime after the Revolution also did was repeat to the officers a lesson that Ubico had already given, that they were essential to national development. Except for some sabre-rattling over Belize, the false threat of an invasion by Castro's Cuba after 1959, and a gentleman's war with a small guerrilla group (at least until the guerrillas had the temerity to stage a bloody ambush in 1965), the military had no wars to fight, but they did have a nation to build. ₁₁₁

An Ubico-era officer could state that the military, because it includes representatives from all parts of Guatemala, recruits the knowledge of the populace and sends it back into the nation through its soldiers, enhanced with the military virtues of patriotism, honor, will, and self-sacrifice (significantly, this officers writing were reprinted during the Peralta government). ₁₁₂ Colonel Josˇ Cruz Salazar argued in 1952 that the military had a duty to back Arbenz's agrarian reform because officers knew, through their tours of duty in the countryside and their extensive contact with soldiers from all over the country, of the grave problems peasants faced. ₁₁₃

There was some validity to this claim of being most representative institution of the nation, and of being more knowledgeable of the nations problems than civilians. No other institution pulled together so many Guatemalans from disparate regions No other institution joined middle class and peasant men under one organizational roof (though the subordinate relationship was repeated for the most part).

Civilian intellectuals talked and wrote much about development, the Indian question, and some even worked hard in the field organizing peasant associations (paying for it with exile or their lives after 1954). But no institution had as many members as the military who had actually lived and worked in the campo. Perhaps teachers could make a similar claim to knowledge of and experience in the countryside, though their contact was more with small town elite families than peasants. Teachers were often activists, but not same kind of institutional force as the military with its tight chain of command, harsh discipline, and, of course, weapons.

Post-Revolution governments, strapped for money and time, fed this claim by depending on the military to man their development efforts. It was the military who colonized the Petˇn (and who also received timber rights there, too). Officers--not civilians--were usually chosen as departmental governors, police chiefs, administrators of government farms and managers of agrarian reform programs. Military officer were assigned the task of introducing agricultural modernization and reforestation practices to the campo, of bringing potable water, schools, health clinics, and electricity to the rural villages. In doing this, post-Revolution governments helped construct a military identity as the nation's best hope. It also meant the absence of a cadre of civilians with the capacity and experience to oversee national development projects.

This is not to say that the military's identity as saviors of the nation is true. Military officers have not been especially good at developing the nation, if national development means stable economic growth, growing economic opportunity and equality, increasingly peaceful transitions of rule, and the expansion of political rights. Since 1963, whether ruling directly or from behind the presidential throne, officers have done little to resolve rank poverty, malnutrition, and illiteracy. Government corruption has not abated, nor until recently have rebellions and coup attempts by military factions. A brutal counter-insurgency war has shattered the polity. Even with the return to formal democracy, and an end to the war between the army and guerrillas, political violence has continued, and the government has yet to win widespread legitimacy among the populace. ₁₁₄

But the consequences of military rule gets ahead of the story here. This story, to conclude, is about the uneven increase of militarism in Guatemala and the troubled transformation of the Guatemalan military. I have approached this history by a kind of triangulation, using three different structures as reference points to describe and explain the military institutions character, behavior, and impact on Guatemalan politics.

The argument made here in brief is that the US government contributed to the modernization of the Guatemalan military and its counter-insurgency potential, but US aid, training, and machinations did not create an army disposed to intervene in politics on behalf of US interests. Rather, the US created opportunities for military intervention in politics by debilitating civilian government, through direct opposition (Arˇvalo and Arbenz, 1948-1954) or clientelist relationships with Guatemalan rulers (Castillo and Ydigoras, 1954-1963).

The economic and government budgetary crises associated with Guatemala's agroexport economy also created opportunities for military intervention. Furthermore, the economy's dependence on a highly inequitable distribution of land and cheap labor gave the military a vital role in domestic security, though it did not always fulfill this role well. Nor did this role necessarily mean that officers were servants of agroexport elites. Elite sponsored coups usually depended on bribing key officers, which suggests that relations between elites and officers were not all that intimate. Furthermore, the military backed governments which pushed land and labor reforms contrary to elite interests. However, when these reforms resulted in disorder in the countryside, the military's principal area of operation, then officers would serve elite interests by challenging the government.

The absence of warmaking and related weakness of the Guatemalan state left the military with little to do but police the countryside. Various rulers tried to different means to professionalize and control the military. Ubico used a mix of patronage and administrative modernization. Arˇvalo and Arbenz gave the military more independence and a series of reforms making it a more worthwhile career. Under Castillo and Ydigoras, the military lost autonomy, patronage increased, but benefits improved as a compensation. Each method failed to keep the army in the barracks because each one benefited one military faction at the expense of another. As well, the lack of revenue and personnel led Guatemalan rulers to use the military as managers and workers in state development projects. This enabled the state to act more independently and decisively in society, but it also meant the inculcation of a military identity as saviors of the nation. This identity and complete autonomy finally came together during the Peralta government.

Conclusion

This account makes the following points concerning the study of militarism. First, almost all rebellions were conducted by factions, which renders problematic any argument which treats the military as a unitary entity. Second, all of the military rebellions involved grievances within the military institution. While rebel officers and their civilian allies many times had non- military issues on their mind, the only way they could muster support in the officer corps was to promise to redress complaints concerning promotions, salaries, professionalization, or to counter threats to the autonomy of the military. Third, military rebellions succeeded only with strong civilian support. These latter two points suggest that a fuller understanding of military rebellions can be gained only with historical attention to conditions both within and without the military, to both the institution and the structures which encase it.

Furthermore, we cannot focus on a particular structure. In the case of Guatemala, militarism cannot be reduced to US intervention and aid, the interests of agroexport elites, the aspirations of officers, or to the cultural acquiesce to military intervention in politics. Rather, Guatemalan militarism and the rise of a military state are the result of a combination of US interference, agroexport interests, and an exaggerated military identity as saviors of the nation, an identity which civilians helped to build.

This is not a very elegant answer as to how and why the military institution changed during the Ubico period. I do not offer a handy causal model that can be applied to other times and places. I could say that a country like Guatemala, under the aegis of Great Power, with a plantation-based agroexport economy and a large foreign enclave, and with a weak state, will necessarily have a fractious, rebellious military resistant to civilian control.

But I won't. One reason is that generalizing from this case contradicts one of the principal points of the paper: studies of the Guatemalan military and militarism have depended too much on theory without empirical support. Without getting into a fruitless discussion about inductive as opposed to deductive reasoning (we all move back and forth between the two), I will simply say that the comprehensive approach employed here can be used for other cases. That is, to understand a particular military's character and behavior, we should focus on the military institution, and situate it within the context of the international position of the state in which that military lies, the type of economy and attendant social relations underlying the state, and the states particular route of state formation. Once we have a set of thorough studies of differing places and times, then aficionados of grand theory can develop a global causal model of militarism. Even then we have to be careful. Charles Tilly points out that there is absolutely no a priori reason to believe that only one set of circumstances produces and sustains democracy. ₁₁₅ The case of Guatemala suggests that the same holds true for democracy's shady cousin, militarism.

Footnotes

Note 1: Gabriel Aguilera Peralta, ed., Reconversion militar en Amˇrica Latina (Guatemala: FLACSO, 1994); Richard Millet and Michael Gold- Biss, eds., Beyond Praetorianism: The Latin American Military in Transition (Miami: North-South Center Pres, 1996); Deborah L. Norden, "Redefining Political-Military Relations in Latin America: Issues in the New Democratic Era," Journal of Armed Forces and Society(Spring, 1996): 419-440; Augusto Varas, ed., La autonom'a militar en Amˇrica Latina (Caracas: Editorial Nueva Sociedad); Carlos M. Vilas, "Prospects for Democratisation in a Post- Revolutionary Setting: Central America" Journal of Latin American Studies 28 (1996): 461-505; Paul Zagorski, Democracy vs. National Security: Civil-Military Relations in Latin America (Boulder: Lynne Riener, 1992). Back.

Note 2: Some may wonder why this definition consigns domestic police functions to the military. It is true that North American and Western European states have typically (but not always, of course) confined the military to the role of external defense, yet this practice has simply not existed in Guatemala, and elsewhere in Latin America. As will be argued later in this essay, the absence of external threats left the Guatemalan army relatively little to do but police the interior. Back.

Note 3: Karen Remmer distinguishes between inclusionary and exclusionary authoritarianism. In the former, the military government incorporates workers and peasants through party organizations, patronage, and a reformist, nationalist project. In the latter, the military government denies lower classes political participation and rights, and pushes a development project favorable to domestic and foreign elites. See Karen Remmer, Military Rule in Latin America (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1991): 3-6. Back.

Note 4: This analytical model is adapted from Samuel Finer's The Man on Horseback (New York: Praeger, 1962). See also Gretchen Casper, "Theories of Military Intervention in the Third World: Lessons from the Philippines" Armed Forces and Society 17, 2 (Winter, 1991): 191- 210 ; and Linda Reif, "Seizing Control: Latin American Military Motives, Capabilities, and Risks" Armed Forces and Society 10, 4 (Summer, 1984): 563-582. Back.

Note 5: James R. Kurth, "United States Foreign Policy and Latin American Military Rule," in Military Rule in Latin America: Function, Consequences, and Perspectives, edited by Philippe C. Schmitter (Beverly Hills: Sage Publications, 1973): 273. Back.

Note 6: For a comparative study of factionalism and militarism, see Bruce W. Farcau, The Transition to Democracy in Latin America (Westport, CT: Praeger, 1996), or The Coup: Tactic in the Seizure of Power (Westport, CT: Praeger, 1994). For factionalism in the Guatemalan army, see Richard Adams, Crucifixion by Power (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1970). For the ideological, intellectual formation of officers, see Brian Loveman and Thomas M. Davies, Jr., "The Politics of Antipolitics," in The Politics of Antipolitics, edited by the Brian Loveman and Thomas M. Davies, Jr. (Lincoln: University of Nebraska, 1989); Morris Janowitz, Military Institutions and Coercion in the Developing Nations, expanded edition (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1977 [1964]); Frederick M. Nunn, The Time of Generals (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1992); and Alfred Stepan, "The New Professionalism of Internal Warfare and Military Role Expansion" in Armies and Politics in Latin America, revised edition, edited by Abraham F. Lowenthal and J. Samuel Fitch (New York: Homes & Meier, 1986). Back.

Note 7: George I. Blanksten, "The Politics of Latin America," in The Politics of Developing Areas, edited by Gabriel Almond and James S. Coleman. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1960); Finer, The Man on Horseback, prev. cit.; Howard J. Wiarda, "Critical Elections and Critical Coups: The Processes of Sociopolitical Realignment in Latin American Development," and "Is Latin America Democratic and Does It Want to Be?" in The Continuing Struggle for Democracy in Latin America, edited by Howard J. Wiarda (Boulder: Westview Press, 1980). Robert Holden offers a more complex version of the this argument in which violence and militarism is rooted in a history of patron-client relations, producing a political culture in which civilians or subalterns collaborate with the states agents of violence. See "Constructing the Limits of State Violence in Central America" Journal of Latin American Studies 28 (1996): 435- 459. Back.

Note 8: These modernizing officers are, as Samuel Huntington has characterized them, akin to western "protestant entrepreneurs" who "assail waste, backwardness, and corruption, and. . . .introduce into the society highly middle class ideas of efficiency, honesty, and national loyalty." From Political Order in Changing Societies (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1968): 203. See also See David Apter, The Politics of Modernization (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1965); Irving Horowitz, "Militarization, Modernization and Mobilization" in Soldiers in Politics, edited by Steffen W. Schmidt and Gerald A. Dorfman (Los Altos: Geron-X, 1974); John J. Johnson, ed., The Role of the Military in Underdeveloped Countries (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1962). For a Guatemalans version of this modernization account, see Alfonso Yurrita Cuesta, "La transicion del rˇgimen militar al civil en Guatemala," in Los militares y la democracia, edited by Louis W. Goodman, et. al. (Montevideo: PEITHO, Sociedad de Anülisis Pol'tico, 1990). Back.

Note 9: Some authors argue that military officers themselves constitute an elite class due to their extensive institutional privileges and assets, or to the wealth accumulated by individual senior officers. Officers do not really serve the interests of the upper class, they share them. George Black, "Military Rule in Guatemala," in The Politics of Antipolitics," prev. cit.; and Miles E. Wolpin, Militarism and Social Revolution in the Third World (Totowa, NJ: Allanheld, Osmun & Co, 1981). Back.

Note 10: Enrique A. Baloyra-Herp, "Reactionary Despotism in Central America" Journal of Latin American Studies 15, 2 (November 1983): 295-319; Centro de Investigacion y Documentacion Centroamericana, Desarrollo historico de la violencia institucional en Guatemala (Guatemala City: Editorial Universitaria, 1980); Piero Gleijeses, "Perspectives of a Regime Transformation in Guatemala" in Political Change in Central America: Internal and External Dimensions, edited by Wolf Grabendorff, Heinrich-W. Drumwiede, and Jsrg Todt (Boulder: Westview Press, 1984); Jeffery M. Paige, "Coffee and Politics in Central America" in Crisis in the Caribbean Basin, edited by Richard Tardanico (Newbury Park: Sage Publications, 1987); Samuel Stone, "Production and Politics in Central America's Convulsions." Journal of Latin American Studies 15, 2 (November 1983): 453-469; Edelberto Torres-Rivas, "Authoritarian Transition to Democracy in Central America" in Sociology of "Developing Societies": Central America, edited by Jan L. Flora and Edelberto Torres-Rivas (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1989). Back.

Note 11: For global or Latin American accounts, see Cole Blazier, The Hovering Giant: U.S. Responses to Revolutionary Change in Latin America, 1910-1985 (Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1985); and Gabriel Kolko, Confronting the Third World: United States Foreign Policy, 1945-1980 (New York: Pantheon books, 1988). For Central America, see Robert H. Holden, "The Real Diplomacy of Violence: United States Military Power in Central America, 1950- 1990" International History Review 15, 2 (May 1993): 283-322; and Walter LaFeber, Inevitable Revolutions (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1993). For Guatemala, see Josˇ Aybar de Soto, Dependency and Intervention: the Case of Guatemala in 1954 (Boulder: Westview Press, 1978); Gordon L. Bowen, "US Policy toward Guatemala, 1954- 1963" Armed Forces and Society 10, 2 (Winter 1984): 165-191; Eduardo Galeano, Guatemala: Occupied Country (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1969); and Susanne Jonas, The Battle for Guatemala: Rebels, Death Squads, and U.S. Power (Boulder: Westview Press, 1991). Back.

Note 12: This is hardly a new point. A decade ago, Alain Rouquiˇ made the same criticism in regard to studies of Latin American militarism, lambasting them all for being ahistorical, tautological, essentialist, or too instrumental. See his introduction to The Military and the State, translated by Paul E. Sigmund (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1989): 1-13. Back.

Note 13: Paul J. Dosal, Doing Business With Dictators (Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources, 1993); John L Findling, Close Neighbors, Distant Friends: United States-Central American Relations (New York: Greenwood Press, 1987). Back.

Note 14: Bureaucratic conflict and turf battles within the US government also hindered its imperialistic project. For example, the US State Department, Foreign Operations Administration, Defense Department, and the World Bank, struggled over the kind and amount of aid to give to the Castillo administration after the 1954 coup, slowing the planning and implementation of aid. See Smith to Stassen, 30 Sep 54; Fitzgerald to Wilson, 16 Oct 54; Armour to State, 22 Oct 54; Dulles to Wilson, 27 Oct 54; in Foreign Relations of the United States, 1952-1954, V. IV (Washington DC: GPO, 1983; hereafter FRUS/52-54): 1228-1237. Also, Memo of Conversation, Armour, Hardesty, Fisher, 10 Oct 54; Holland to Dulles, 25 Oct 54, from US National Archives, Record Group 59 (hereafter USNA RG 59), doc. ser. 714.5-MSP. Also, Fisher to Sparks, 29 Nov 54; Memo of Conversation, Knapp and Newbegin 7 Feb 55; Memo of Conversation, Bennett and Fisher, 7 Feb 55; Memo of Conversation, Bennett, Sparks, Krieg, Leddy, 4 Mar 55; and Breaux to State Dept, Despatch 477, 29 Aug 55; from USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 814.00 Back.

Note 15: Asensio-Wunderlich, King, Memo of Conversation, 3 Aug 1957, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.00. Back.

Note 16: Ydigoras Fuentes would make a very good President, a US Chargˇ wrote after meeting with the General the day before the 1944 Revolution, and suggested that anything like [an] endorsement from an official United States source would lead Ydigoras to announce his candidacy. From Memo from US Chargˇ d Affaires Affeld to Sec of State, 19 Oct 44, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 814.00. This opinion would have chagrined US officials later in 1963 as they anxiously waited for someone to knock President Ydigoras out of office: Although the political parties and most of the political leaders show little promise as supporters for the Alliance in Guatemala, there are some elements and individuals who would back the Alliance with domestic action if they had outside support. Alliance strategy would seem to indicate a real need to identify these individuals and groups and to support them overtly and covertly regardless of the immediate form of government so as to permit their eventual rise to authority. From Hilsman to Martin, 25 Mar 63, USNA RG 59 Central Foreign Policy File (hereafter CFPF), box 3921, File POL 23. For other examples, see Confidential Memo of Conversation, Mann, King, Padilla, 12 Nov 1957, US Sec State Dulles to Amembassy, 13 Sep, 24 Oct, 26 Nov 1957, Memo of Conversation, Sparks and Stewart, 25 Oct 1957, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.00 , and 3 Apr 63, Tel 534, USNA RG 59 CFPF, Box 3919, File Pol Guat. Back.

Note 17: For Ubico, see Grieb, Guatemalan Caudillo; the 1954 coup, Richard H. Immerman, The CIA in Guatemala (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1982) and Stephen Schlesinger and Stephen Kinzer, Bitter Fruit (New York: Anchor Press, 1982); 1957 military junta, Sparks to Dulles, Telegram 31, 31 Jul 57 and Telegram 41, 2 Aug 57, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.00; for Cruz Salazar, Amembassy Guatemala to Sec State, 26 Oct 57, USNA RG 59, doc. ser 714.00; Peralta, Corrigan to State Dept, A-697, 20 May 63, and Bell to State Dept, A- 147, 9 Sep 63, USNA RG 59 CFPF, Box 3921, File POL 23. Back.

Note 18: Prior to 1929, Guatemala had had five military missions, one German, two Spanish one Austrian and one French, from Foreign Military Missions, 5940.01, 19 Jul 43, USNA/Suit RG 165 Entry 77, Box 1570. For Politˇcnica curricula: Francisco A. Samayoa Coronado, La Escuela Politˇcnica a travˇs de su historia, Tomo II (Guatemala City: Tipograf'a Nacional, 1964): 33-35, 88-91. Change in uniform: Grieb, Guatemalan Caudillo: 76. Back.

Note 19: For US praise of Northamerican Directors of the Politˇcnica: Memo for file 2257-ZZ-39, 30 Mar 33, Subject: Military Mission - Guatemala - Resumˇ , 20 Mar 33; Memo for Chief of Staff, G-2/2257- ZZ-39, Extension of tours of duty of instructors with Guatemalan Army, 13 Oct 33; in USNA/Suitland, RG 165, Box 1047; and Work Accomplished by Mr. Davies in the Polytechnic School. . ., 12 Oct 42; Foreign Military Missions, 5940.01, 19 Jul 43; Accomplishments of American Mission, 5940.01, 19 Jul 43; USNA/Suit, RG 165, Entry 77, Box 1570. For US evaluation of military performance of 1944 revolutionaries: Memo from Affeld to Sec of State , no. 1662, 24 Oct 44, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 814.00. Back.

Note 20: For Jacobo Arbenz's criticism of the Army, Marco Antonio Flores, Fortuny: un comunista guatemalteco (Guatemala: Editoriales Oscar de Leon Palacios, Palo de Hormiga, y Universitaria, 1994): 91-94; for Castillo Armas' criticism: Coronel Carlos Castillo Armas, Rese-a de las principales actividades desarrolladas en la Escuela Politˇcnica, de Marzo de 1947 a Marzo de 1949 (12 Marzo, 1949), AGCA Biblioteca, #11, 407; see also military doctors critique in Dr. J. Ignacio Alfaro Sanchez, La Escuela Politˇcnica en la Cultura Nacional (Guatemala: Tipograf'a Nacional, 1971): 183. Back.

Note 21: Federal Bureau of Investigation, secret report Guatemala Today, July, 1944, p. 77, at the Franklin Roosevelt Library (hereafter FDR), Official Papers, Box 23, Dept Justice, FBI. See also Memo from Cabot to Sec of State, no. 1390, 24 Jul 40, USNA/Suit, G 165, Entry 77, Box 1572; Naval Attachˇ report to MID, 31 Aug 1938, and Military Attachˇ report to MID, 24 Jan 1943, USNA/Suit RG 165, Entry 77, Box 1573. Back.

Note 22: For example, according to Guatemala's 1931/32 budget, there were but two Guatemalan officers studying in the US and three in Mexico. Gobierno de Guatemala, Presupuesto anual de ingresos y egresos, 1931-1932 (Guatemala: Tipograf'a Nacional, 1931). Number of line officers estimated from the Gobierno de Guatemala, Escalaf_n, 1934 (Guatemala: Tipograf'a Nacional, 1934), located at the Biblioteca de la Academica de geograf'a e historia, Guatemala City. Back.

Note 23: Examples abound: "Latins are children, instructed the first US Director of the Politˇcnica, Treat them accordingly, but never let them know it." Or, as another US officer wrote, "Initiative is lacking. Intelligence is far below average." From Military Intelligence, Data for Officers Going on Foreign Military Duty, Especially Latin America, by Major Considine, 1935, Entry 77, Box 1572; and G-2 Report 3884, 6 May 37, Box 1047; at USNA/Suitland, RG 165. Back.

Note 24: One officer estimated in 1961 that 60-70% of the Guatemalan officer corps had received some sort of training in one of the US service schools. See 2nd Enclosure to Amembassy to State Dept, Despatch 464, 20 Feb 61, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.00. According to Timothy Wickham-Crowley, a total of 3,030 officers had received US counter-insurgency training over the years 1950-79, making the Guatemalan officer corps one of highest recipients of US training in Latin America. See Table 5-9 in Timothy P. Wickham-Crowley, Guerrillas and Revolution in Latin America (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992): 79. Back.

Note 25: ICA Program for Guatemala, 1960, USNA/Suit, RG 469, Box 4, file Programs FY 1960: 131. Back.

Note 26: Jenkins, "U.S. Military Assistance and the Guatemalan Armed Forces." Back.

Note 27: Amembassy to State Dept, A-563, 19 Mar 63, USNA RG 59 CFPF, Box 3921, File Pol 23: annex, p. 2. Back.

Note 28: Harold A. Hovey, United States Military Assistance (New York: Praeger): 68-69. Back.

Note 29: Janowitz, Military Institutions and Coercion in Developing Nations: 172; John J. Johnson, "The Latin American Military as a Politically Competing Group in a Transitional Society," in The Role of the Military in Underdeveloped Countries, prev. cit.: 129. Back.

Note 30: As is implied in Bowen, "US Policy toward Guatemala, 1954-1963;" Jonas, The Battle for Guatemala; LaFeber, Inevitable Revolutions; Michael McClintock, The American Connection, Volume II (London: Zed Books, 1985). Back.

Note 31: Ubico presented the 1934 plot to assassinate him as inspired by communists, a story which the Northamerican Politˇcnica director accepted. In reality, those who formed the plot were disaffected members of Ubico's party (Partido Liberal Progresista), senior officers who had lost high posts under Ubico, and some urban professionals. For US reportage, Letters from Considine to Burnett, 20 & 25 Sep 34; Considine to Director MID, Despatch 141, 26 Oct 34; Burnett to Wilson, 13 Oct 34; USNA/Suit RG 165, Entry 77, Box 1564, File 3020. For official Guatemalan reaction and opinions, El Exito, 18 Sep 1934: 1; Nuestro Diario, 19 Sep 1934; El Liberal Progresista, 24 Sep 1934: 1. For military tribunal proceedings against accused, Archivo General de la Corte Suprema, Auditor'a de Guerra (hereafter AGCS), Legajo 4-B, causa 301. In the 1957 presidential campaign following Castillo's assassination, members of the Movimiento Democratico Nacional (MDN, Castillo's party) successfully convinced the US government that arbencistas (or communists) had infiltrated the Partido Revolucionario (PR), and had the ear of the military junta which briefly ruled. Ydigoras' acceptance of PR support led US officials to consider him a rank opportunist, and therefore they opposed his candidacy. See Sparks to Sec of State, Telegram 162, 26 Oct 57; Connet to State Dept, Despatch 283, 30 Oct 57, Whelan to Sec of State, Telegram 142, 18 Nov 57; Gorrell to State Dept Despatch no. 394, 23 Dec 57, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.00. In 1963, the Guatemalan military attempted to gain more surplus weapons and aid by claiming that the 1960 November 13th rebellion had been Castro-inspired, and that a Castroite guerrilla group was on the move. The US doubted these claims, even moreso after Guatemalans refused to allow US officials to conduct their own reconnaissance. Corrigan to Sec State, Telegram 571, 20 Mar 63; Fisher to Martin, 25 Mar 63; Martin to Johnson, 27 Mar 1963; USNA/Suit RG 59 CFPF, Box 3919, File Pol Guat. Back.

Note 32: Amembassy to State Dept, A-563, 19 Mar 63, prev. cit.; also, Wickham-Crowley, Guerrillas and Revolutionaries: 77. Back.

Note 33: In informal conversations, retired Guatemalan officers often spoke of their time in the US while receiving training. Notably, the comments were always on the hospitality of their Northamerican hosts, on the beauty of the country. They never spoke of the training itself unless prodded, and even then their answers were typically vague. No doubt, they were simply being courteous to a US investigator, but was their vagueness a product of secretiveness, or a result of living experience that overshadowed the actual training? There are a number of other questions we should be exploring in order to determine the impact of US training on the Guatemalan officers, and its relationship to militarism: What exactly was the content of US training courses? What teaching methods did US trainers employ, and were they effective? Did the various US military schools vary in terms of what was taught, and how it was taught? What did Guatemalan officers think of their courses and trainers? Which officers performed better in US training, and did that performance relate to their standing and behavior at home? Back.

Note 34: As do John M. Baines, "U.S. Military Assistance to Latin America, an Assessment" Journal of Interamerican Studies and World Affairs (November 1972): 469-487; Martin C Needler, "The Causality of the Latin American Coup d'Etat: Some Numbers, Some Speculations" in Soldiers in Politics, edited by Steffen W. Schmidt and Gerald A. Dorfma (Los Altos: Geron-X 1974); Robert Putnam, "Toward Explaining Military Intervention in Latin American Politics" World Politics (October 1967): 83-110. Back.

Note 35: Edward Luttwak, Coup d' Etat: a Practical Handbook (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1979); and Reif, "Seizing Control: Latin American Military Motives, Capabilities, and Risks." Back.

Note 36: The 1960 November 13th rebellion failed because its leaders mistakenly thought the Air Force would join them. Conversely, the Air Force rebellion of 1962 fell apart when ground troops refused to rally behind the rebel pilots. Back.

Note 37: Adams, Crucifixion by Power: 249. In 1961, a US report stated that the Guatemalan Air Force and Navy have gained commendable occupational prestige that makes elite organizations. See Tab C of Corrigan to State Dept, Despatch 424, 6 Feb 61, USNA RG 59. ser. doc. 714.5-MSP. A former Guatemalan naval officer agrees that there was prestige in the Navy, but little professionalism: . . .the Navy's problem is that we always had infantry commanders, right? It turned into a very nice assignment: be in the navy, dress in white, receive visits, see boats, trips to Washington and everything. So then all the old coronels wanted to be naval commanders. Interview with retired Naval Captain Licenciado Fernando Cifuentes, July, 1994; translation by author. Back.

Note 38: Handy, Revolution in the Countryside: 187; Acheson to Amembassy, A-106, 7 Jan 52, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.5-MSP. The US delivered one million dollars of Lend-Lease materials to Guatemala in 1948, the last installment of an agreement made in 1942, in which Guatemala allowed the US two airbases on its soil in exchange for three million dollars. See Memo of Conversation, Linares Aranda, et. al., 17 Dec 47, in Foreign Relations of the United States (hereafter FRUS), 1947, volume VIII (Washington DC: GPO, 1972): 700- 701. According to Josˇ Manuel Fortuny, Arbenz had told him that the Army barely had enough ammunition to last one hour of battle, thus leading to the decision to buy arms from Czechoslovakia (which became the pretext for US intervention). From Flores, Fortuny: 223. Back.

Note 39: Intelligence Section: Anderson to Williams, and attached references, Memo of 15 July 46; Allan to Chief, Division of Foreign Activity Correlation, Memo of 29 July 46; in USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 814.20 and 814.00, respectively; and Jonas, The Battle for Guatemala: 70. Navy: Cifuentes interview; AmEmbassy to Sec of Stat, Airgram G-50, 29 Oct 60; A. F. McLan to AmEmbassy, Telegram of 22 Nov 60; USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.58. Housing: Spencer to Sparks, Memo of 1 Mar 55, Armour to Sec of State, Telegram 535, 16 Mar 55, Hill to Dept State, Despatch 820, 19 Apr 55, in USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.5-MSP. Mapping, Civic Action and vocational education: See enclosure in Corrigan to State Dept, Despatch 424, 6 Feb 61, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.5-MSP. Literacy: From Action Annex to Progress Report, A-563, p. 12, Bell to State Dept, 19 Mar 63, USNA RG 59 CFPF, Box 3921 , File POL 23. Back.

Note 40: Calculated from Table A.2 in Victor Bulmer-Thomas, The Political Economy of Central America Since 1920 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987): 310-311 (population); Guatemalan annual budget of 1931/32 (military spending and number of military personnel for 1931); Guatemala en Cifras, 1961/62(military spending in 1960); and Mutual Security Program, FY 1960, p. 131, USNA/Suit, RG 469, Box 4, File Programs FY 1960 (number of military personnel in 1960). In 1963, a US official mused over the unintended effects of US aid (though the effects were still the fault of Guatemalans): [N]either morality nor civil-mindedness can be legislated or wished into being overnight; nor are their achievement possible by mere assistance or information programs from the U.S. or any foreign source. Indeed, it may sometimes be wondered whether a preponderance of the U.S. presence here, ever since our assistance in liberating the country from Communism in 1954, has not created an unsalutary tendency in too many quarters to depend on the United States and to look to it as the instrumentality mainly responsible for the solution of Guatemala's problems. . . From Action Annex to Progress Report, A-563, p. 9, Bell to State Dept, 19 Mar 63. Back.

Note 41: Calculated from Adams, Crucifixion by Power: 264 (military disbursements); U.S. Department of Commerce, Bureau of the Census, U.S. Statistical Abstract, 1961, 1964 (net major U.S. aid); Guatemala en Cifras, 1955, 1958, 1961/62, 1964 (Guatemalan state expenditures). Back.

Note 42: Cifuentes interview. Back.

Note 43: Dulles to Stassen, 26 Nov 54, FRUS/1952-1954: 1237-1238. New York Times, December 20, 1955, 12:4 and January 21, 1955, 1: 4; Amembassy to State Dept, A-74, 30 Jul 63, USNA RG 59 CFPF, Box 3920, File Pol 15. Back.

Note 44: Naval attachˇ report to US Military Intelligence Division (MID), 31 Aug 1938, and military attachˇ report to MID, 24 Jan 1943, USNA/Suitland, RG 165, Entry 77, Box 1573; Military attachˇ report to MID, No. 3110, 9 May 42, USNA/Suitland, RG 165, Entry 77, Box 1565. Back.

Note 45: Jenkins, US Military Assistance; Rusk/AID to Amembassy, A-147, 16 Oct 63, USNA RG 59 CFPF, Box 3921, File Pol 23. It should be noted that as of 1963, US Embassy officials did not consider the guerrilla movement a threat to the Peralta government, see Bell to Sec of State, Telegram 726, 23 May 63, USNA RG 59 CFPF, Box 3921, File Pol 23. Back.

Note 46: Dulles to Wilson, 27 Oct 54, FRUS/1952-1954/II: 1234-1237. Dulles was likely just echoing Assistant Secretary Holland's assessment of the importance of military aid in supporting the anti- communist regime. Holland to Dulles, 25 Oct 54, USNA, RG 59, doc. ser. 714.5-MSP. Back.

Note 47: . . .a major weakness in this Mission is its scarcity of information as to the attitudes and aspirations of the officer corps--excepting a few of the senior officers, is assumed to be anti-Communist and generally right of center in its political philosophy. Whether this assessment is valid, I do not know. From Bell to State Dept, Despatch 494, 31 Mar 62, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.00. For a related discussion on lack of US intelligence on the Guatemalan military during Arbenz administration, see Gleijeses, Shattered Hope: 99-102. Back.

Note 48: 93 of 137 cadets joined the attack, AGCS, Legajo 21-H, Causa 1157. See also Legajo 21-J, Causa 1162; Wer, "En Guatemala los hˇroes tienen quince a-os," Parts I & II; and Francisco Villagrün Kramer, Biograf'a pol'tica de Guatemala: los pactos pol'ticos de 1944 a 1970 (Guatemala: FLACSO, 1993): 220-231. Back.

Note 49: Dulles to AmEmGuat, 13 Sep 57; Sparks, Stewart, Memo of Conversation, 25 Oct 57, ; Sparks to Dulles, Telegram 169, 27 Oct 57; Sparks to Dulles, Telegram 78, 31 Oct 57; USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.00. Three Guatemalan officers of the Castillo administration who had served under Arbenz, told a US army attachˇ that they felt no ill feeling towards most of the officers whom Castillo had purged on the grounds of communism. They believed the purged officers had just been following their lawful leaders; they were not really communists. Colonel Josˇ Cruz Salazar, who would be the US's favored candidate in the upcoming presidential election, reportedly shared the same sentiment. These comments revealed that the key military officers did not share the US government's wide definition of communism, or all of its attendant anti-communist measures. See Whelan to Dulles, Telegram 24, 27 Jul 57, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.00. Back.

Note 50: Ball to Amembassy, 24 Sep 63, USNA RG 59 CFPF, Box 3921, File Pol Affairs and Rel; Bell to Sec of State, Telegram 31, 18 Jul 63, and Dreyfuss to State Dept, A-277, 22 Nov 63, USNA RG 59 CFPF, Box 3921, File Pol 23 Internal Security. Back.

Note 51: Hill to State Dept, Despatch 650, 9 Feb 55; Holland, Mann, Fisher, Memo of Conversation, 28-29 Apr 55; Hill to State Dept, Despatch 901, 18 May 55; Hill to State Dept, Despatch 963, 7 Jun 55; Hill to State Dept, Despatches 992, 995, 17 Jun 55; USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.00. Back.

Note 52: Muccio to Sec of State, Telegram 178, 17 Oct 60, USNA RG 59, ser. doc. 714.00; see also Villagrün, Biograf'a pol'tica de Guatemala: 349-354. Arturo Peralta (the Defense Ministers brother) told an US embassy official that the military cordially disliked Ydigoras because of his role in [the] Retalhuleu training and his subsequent open declaration that U.S. and Guatemalan officers had been involved in training the invasion troops [for the Bay of Pigs operation], in contradiction [to] Guatemalan army statements. From Corrigan to Sec of State Telegram 551, 12 Mar 63, USNA RG 59 CFPF, Box 3920, File Pol 6 Prominent Persons. Back.

Note 53: In 1931, foreigners made up less than 2% of all Guatemalan cultivators, yet owned nearly 44% of all farmland. They owned 47% of coffee plantations and produced 48% of the nations coffee. Calculated from data in the Memoria de la Secretar'a de Agricultura, 1931 (Guatemala: Tipograf'a Nacional, 1932): 189, 191. Back.

Note 54: By the time Ubico took office, US investors were the largest foreign contingent in Guatemala, see Findling, Close Neighbors, Distant Friends: 82-91. Back.

Note 55: According to the Guatemalan 1950 census, "2 per cent of the population controlled slightly over 74 per cent of arable land whereas 76 per cent of the nation's farms had access to only 9 per cent of the land. In a country where three-quarters of the population worked the land, this meant that 88.4 per cent of all farms possessed under 17 acres and fully 21.3 percent were under 2 acres. At the time 9 acres were considered to be the bare minimum needed to support a family at poverty level. Tenants routinely paid 50 per cent of their yield in rent; in some areas that figure approached 66 per cent." From Jim Handy, Gift of the Devil (Boston: South End Press, 1984): 127. Back.

Note 56: ASIES, Mas de 100 a-os del movimiento obrero urbano en Guatemala, Tomo I (Guatemala: ASIES, 1991). Back.

Note 57: Before the Vagrancy law, landlords had depended on a somewhat chaotic labor system in which campesinos worked off debts incurred by advance payments. Campesinos often moved from finca to finca (plantation) leaving behind outstanding debts. Others simply refused to work for miserable pay under harsh conditions, and fled communities tapped by landlords for labor. Under the 1934 Vagrancy law, unless a campesino could prove adequate employment on the home farm or elsewhere, he was assigned to a finca or to one of Ubico's road or public works projects. See David McCreery, "Wage Labor, Free Labor, and Vagrancy Laws: The Transition to Capitalism in Guatemala, 1920-1945," in Coffee, Society, and Power in Latin America, edited by William Roseberry, Lowell Gudmundson, and Mario Samper Kutschbach (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1994) Back.

Note 58: Bulmer-Thomas, The Political Economy of Central America: 1-86. Back.

Note 59: Fernando H. Cardoso and Enzo Faletto, Dependency and Development in Latin America, 2nd Ed. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1979); David Collier, The New Authoritarianism in Latin America (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979); Peter Evans, Dependent Development (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979); James M. Malloy, ed., Authoritarianism and Corporatism in Latin America (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1977); Guillermo O'Donnell, Bureaucratic Authoritarianism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988). Back.

Note 60: Bulmer-Thomas, Political Economy of Central America: 74-77, 87- 100, 312. According to Guatemalan government budgets, state employee salaries, including those of military officers, did not rise for the most part throughout Ubico's reign, Gobierno de Guatemala, Presupuesto anual de egresos e ingresos, 1931-1932 and 1944-1945 (Guatemala: Tipograf'a Nacional, 1931, 1944). Military officers began complaining to US officials about low pay as early as 1938, G-2 report 579, GUATEMALA, Army, General Characteristics, by Cap Lemson-Scribner, 15 Jun 38, USNA/Suitland RG 165, Entry 77, box 1572. Back.

Note 61: The value of US private investment in Guatemala in 1957 was no higher than in 1950 ($106 million). US direct private investment in Mexico, Central America, and the Caribbean increased by 50% in the same time period ($1488 to $2234 million), and by two thirds in all of Latin America ($4445 to $7434 million). Guatemala was an exception to this trend. U.S. Department of Commerce, Survey of Current Business (August, 1964): 10-11. Guatemalan governmental data reveal that the balance of international business transactions went into the red after 1955, from 3.8 million quetzales on the plus side to an average annual loss of 22.7 million from 1956 to 1960. Guatemala en Cifras, 1955, p. 9; 1961/62, p. 129. Back.

Note 62: Peralta quote from Brian Loveman and Thomas M. Davies, Jr. (eds.), The Politics of Antipolitics, 2nd Edition (Lincoln, NB: University of Nebraska Press, 1989): 288. Back.

Note 63: Barrington Moore, Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy (Boston: Beacon Press, 1966): 434. Back.

Note 64: Paul J. Dosal, Doing Business With Dictators (Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources, 1993): 183-200. Back.

Note 65: Bulmer-Thomas, Political Economy of Central America: 73. It could be argued that they had no need to organize since the government never crossed their interests, that is, the government was simply an executive committee of the upper class. However, as is noted several times in this study, Ubico did take actions over the resistance of elites. In other words, this study assumes that the Guatemalan state did have some limited autonomy. Back.

Note 66: McCreery, Wage Labor, Free Labor, and Vagrancy Laws, prev. cit. Back.

Note 67: Robert G. Williams, States and Social Evolution (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1994): 166-167. Back.

Note 68: A survey of officer surnames suggests that few officers came from the upper class. A comparison of coffee elite surnames with those of cadets in the Escuela Politˇcnica over the years 1931-1953 shows that, at most, 30% of cadets may have come from elite families. A similar comparison with the officers (line and academy officers) listed in the 1934 Escalaf_n (Military Register) produces a figure of 17%. These numbers are undoubtedly inflated because most of the matches appeared with very common surnames in Guatemala such as Martinez, Gonzalez, and Garcia. Marta Casaus Arzo's genealogical work on the Guatemalan hegemonic oligarchy reported remarkably few instances where the principal families dedicated their sons to the military. Jorge Ubico was from a wealthy landowning family, but he appears to have been the exception, not the rule. See Guatemala: linaje y racismo (San Josˇ : FLACSO, 1995). Back.

Note 69: May 1945 plot--AGCS, Legajo 15, Causa 943; March 1949 plot (Complot nomero 19)--AGCS, Legajo 17, Causa 1016; July 1949 Honor Guard Revolt--AGCS, Legajo 17-A, Causa 1016; August 1950 Castillo attack on the Base Militar--AGCS, Legajo 18, Causa 1053; 1953 Sülama revolt--Gleijeses, Shattered Hope: 220-221; Villagrün, Biograf'a Pol'tica: 110-111. Back.

Note 70: In a 1952 Army Journal article, Major Josˇ Lu's Cruz Salazar (who would later serve in both the Castillo and Ydigoras administrations), strongly affirmed the military's responsibility to support Arbenz's land reform. See El Ejˇrcito y la Reforma Agraria Revista Ejˇrcito (Abr'l-Junio, 1952): 54-56. Also, Coronel Carlos Enrique D'az, Discurso del Jefe de las Fuerzas Armadas ante el Congreso de la Repoblica el 14 de Marzo de 1953 Revista Militar (enero-marzo, 1953); and Handy, Revolution in the Countryside: 185. Back.

Note 71: The Army General Staff presented Arbenz a set of questions a month before Castillo's invasion: 11. Do you know . .that communist leaders. . .are openly declaring themselves as anti-militarists and that furthermore on many occasions they have stated publicly that the National Army has to disappear in order to give way to popular militias? . . .15. Why has there been no official, public declaration that the institutions in charge of maintaining national security are: first, the Civil Guard, and ultimately the National Army?. . .18. Why is it not strictly forbidden the organization of peasant masses such as the leader Castillo Flores has formed, given that this may be the first step towards the organization of the Popular Army, which has already been announced, and which is hostile to the sole, national army? Cited in Villagrün, Biograf'a Pol'tica: 132-133; translation by author. Back.

Note 72: According to one of Arbenz's close advisors, Josˇ Manuel Fortuny, Arbenz thought capturing or defeating the Castillo's invasion force might lead to a US blockade of petroleum, or become a pretext to send in US marines. Guatemalan military officers shared this fear (we should also keep in mind that the US embargo of arms sales had left the Army low on munitions). See Flores, Fortuny: 217-218, 223, 231-232; Gleijeses, Shattered Hope: 338. Back.

Note 73: According to a 1944 FBI report: The Guatemalan Police have the reputation of being one of the most efficient and secretive in Latin America. Each department has a force of National Police under an officer who, while cooperating with the government of the department, is directly responsible to the Director General of the National Police and is, therefore, an agent who rechecks on the activities of the government. Back.

Note 74: Reglamento para el servicio del Ejˇrcito en tiempo de paz, encisos 306-307 (Guatemala: Tipograf'a Nacional, 1935). Back.

Note 75: See Correspondencia del Ministerio de Guerra a Ministerio de Fomento, 1930-1938, AGCA, Legajo 22533, and Informes mensuales de los Jefes Pol'ticos departamentales, 1930-1944, AGCA, sin clasificaci_n. Back.

Note 76: See Informes mensuales de los Jefes Pol'ticos departamentales, 1930-1944, AGCA, sin clasificaci_n; and Gobierno de Guatemala, Mensaje que el Presidente de la Repoblica, General Jorge Ubico, dirige a la Asamblea Nacional Legislativa (Guatemala: Tipograf'a Nacional, 1939): 71. Back.

Note 77: See Gobierno de Guatemala, Ministerio de Fomento, Correspondencia con el Ministerio de Guerra, 1930-1938, AGCA, Legajo 22533. Back.

Note 78: For example, in 1931 nearly half of the troops were stationed in the capital city and immediate vicinity. More troops were stationed in the departments of Zacapa and Jutiapa (through which ran the principal rail line) than in Escuintla and Santa Rosa, the top coffee producing departments. Guatemala, Memoria de la Secretaria de Fomento, 1931 (Guatemala: Tipograf'a Nacional, 1931): 412; Guatemala, Presupuesto anual de egresos e ingresos, 1931-32 (Guatemala: Tipograf'a Nacional, 1931); and Robert G. Williams, States and Social Evolution (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1994): 65-67. Back.

Note 79: Ley Constitutiva del Ejˇrcito, 1935, enciso 35; David McCreery, "Wage Labor, Free Labor, and Vagrancy Laws: The Transition to Capitalism in Guatemala, 1920-1945," in Coffee, Society, and Power in Latin America, prev. cit. In his annual reports, the War Minister defensively asserted that military recruitment was not a problem for landlords, which makes one suspect that it was indeed a problem. See Gobierno de Guatemala, Memoria de Guerra, 1931-1934 (Guatemala: Tipograf'a Nacional, 1931-34). Back.

Note 80: McCreery, Wage Labor: 223. Back.

Note 81: See Article 202 of Guatemala's 1945 Constitution. The Revolutionary Junta had actually ordered the reorganization with Executive Decree 80, 14 March 1945, though apparently the reorganization was still to be completed by the time of Arˇvalo's Executive order of 10 July 1945 which demilitarized the police. The expanding size of Civil Guard was drawn from a comparison of Guatemala's 1940/41 and 1950/51 budgets, Gobierno de Guatemala, Presupuesto anual de ingresos y egresos, 1940-1941 and 1950-1951 (Guatemala: Tipograf'a Nacional, 1940, 1950). Back.

Note 82: For Arana's actions against strikers, see Handy, Revolution in the Countryside: 181. For Arbenz, see Confidential Oficio 3920, Defense Minister to Agriculture Minister, 9 Apr 45; Oficio 2440, Agriculture Minister to Defense Minister, 10 Apr 45; Oficio 3955, Agriculture Minister to Defense Minister, 31 May 45; Oficio 5796, Undersecretary of Agriculture to Defense Minister, 21 Aug 45; Oficio 10062, Defense Minister to Minister of Agriculture, 7 Sep 45. In the same bundle of 1945 correspondence, there are oficios supporting Handy's account of Arana's anti-labor actions, though it was done so on the request of the Ministry of Agriculture. Back.

Note 83: Recopilaci_n de Leyes, Acuerdo gubernativo 9 Nov 45; Handy, Revolution in the Countryside: 184-86. Back.

Note 84: See Recopilaci_n de Leyes for acuerdos gubernativos of 16 Feb 35; 1 Mar 35; 4 Oct 35; 5/15/39; 7/18/39; and Decreto gubernativo 1714, 24 Aug 35. The Air Force also played an important role: in a country short on planes and pilots, Air Force officers served as crop-dusters for large farms, a lucrative role they would hold throughout the period in question. Back.

Note 85: Concerning Army's development role under Arˇvalo and Arbenz, see Constitucion de la Repoblica de Guatemala, 1945, Art'culo 149 (the 1956 and 1965 Constitutions dropped this mandate); colonization of the the Petˇn (FYDEP), see Recopilacion de Leyes, acuerdos gubernativos de 15 Feb 1947, 17 Jun 1947, and 25 Aug 1949 (Ydigoras' acuerdos gubernativos of 1 Aug 1962 and 30 Aug 1962 gave the entire FYDEP program to the Ministry of National Defense, previously shared with Agriculture); Arbenz's land reform, see Handy, Revolution in the Countryside: 185; see also the Seccion Grafica of the Revista Militar (enero-marzo, 1953), which has pictures of the Army's agricultural modernization program. Information on Army's development work under Castillo drawn from AGCA Legajo 41499, Correspondencia entre los Ministerios de Guerra y Agricultura, octubre de 1954 a diciembre 1955, and interview with retired Colonel Jorge Hernandez (Chief of Staff under Castillo), October, 1994. Data on Civic Action gathered from Muccio to Sec of State, 1 Jul 60; Corrigan to State Dept, 6 Feb 60; USNA RG 59, dec. ser. 714.5-MSP; Bell to State Dept, 19 Mar 63, USNA RG 59 CFPF, Box 3921, File POL 23; and La memoria de un a-o de gobierno, 20 de marzo 1963 - 30 de marzo 1964 (Guatemala: Editorial del Ejˇrcito, 1964). Back.

Note 86: One could conceivably argue that the thirty year counter- insurgency war did not really benefit agroexport elites given that the conflict interrupted travel and communications, disrupted labor supply and agricultural production, diverted state money from infrastructural maintenance and improvement (with its attendant multiplier effects) towards military spending (with fewer multipliers), along with hindering international trade and finance. Of course, there is no reason to assume that elites are far-sighted and intelligent when it comes to pursuing their interests. Back.

Note 87: Charles Tilly, Coercion, Capital, and European States, AD 990- 1990 (Cambridge: Blackwell, 1992): 67-126. Back.

Note 88: Mary Catherine Rend_n, "Manuel Estrada Cabrera, Guatemalan President, 1898-1920," D. Phil. Thesis submitted to Merton College, 1988 (on file at the Academia de Geograf'a e Historia in Guatemala City): 190-193. Back.

Note 89: For a thorough analysis of the relationship between the rise of coffee production and the Guatemalan national government, see Williams, States and Social Evolution. Back.

Note 90: This point is based on an analysis of employment figures in Gobierno de Guatemala, Presupuesto anual de egresos e ingresos, 1931-32. Back.

Note 91: State presence in general, according to a couple of different rough measures, contracted and expanded over the next three decades. The government's share of the Gross Domestic Product slid downward throughout Ubico's administration, from 7.96 to 5.29 percent, climbed again during the Reform Decade (a high of 9.48% in 1952), jagged up and down throughout the administrations of Castillo and Ydigoras, dropping quickly again after 1962 (6.77% in 1966). Government expenditures per capita followed a similar uneven trajectory. Government employees per 1000 Guatemalans barely moved over the same time period, from 10 in 1931 to 11 in 1963. Calculated from Presupuesto anual de Ingresos y Egresos, 1931-1932, 1963-64; Tables A-1, A-2, and A-9 in Bulmer-Thomas, Political Economy of Central America: 308-311, 324-325. Back.

Note 92: The distribution of officers according to occupation category is as follows: 48%-agriculture; 20%-craftsmen; 10%-white collar; 10%- military professionals; 5%-merchants; 4%-civilian professionals; 3%- laborers; < 0.5%-industrialists (calculated from the 1934 Escalaf_n). I consider middle class occupations to comprise white collar workers, military and civilian professionals, merchants, and industrialists (which I assume to be mainly artisans with a few employees). Agriculturists could include large landowners such as General Ubico and his Chief of Roads, General Ydigoras, though they called themselves militares by profession. Back.

Note 93: Ubico apparently saw himself as a second General Rufino Barrios (his godfather), the liberal reformer who ushered in the coffee economy and established Guatemala's first national army. He changed the date of Soldier's Day to June 30, to commemorate Rufino Barrios' victory and rise to power, and instituted a military honor called the Medalla del Reformador. His attention to military form extended to uniforms, over which he expended quite a bit of energy redesigning, and handing down regulations concerning the types of uniforms and their proper use. For holiday and medal honoring General Barrios, see acuerdos gubernativos 18 Jun 32, 23 Mar 33, 20 Mar 35. For laws concerning military uniforms, see following acuerdos gubernativos, 11 Feb 37, 1 Dec 37, 3 Dec 38, 6 Oct 39, 18 Nov 39, 11 Jul 40, 12 Jan 42, 24 Feb 42, 10 Sep 42, 28 Jan 44, found in the Recopilaci_n de Leyes. Back.

Note 94: On Ubico's refurbishment of military bases, see Grieb, Guatemalan Caudillo: 172. See earlier discussion, pages 5-6 and 10, on the fitness of the Guatemalan military. According to Samayoa's lists of cadets and graduates, from 1920 to 1930, an average of 35 cadets entered the academy annually, and an average of 54% graduated. During Ubico's administration, the average entering class size is the same, but the average graduation goes up to 78%. In the eight years following the 1944 Revolution, the average entering class size increased to 56, and the average graduation rate drops to 55%. Data on military salaries and benefits gathered Guatemalan budget figures and a review of laws related to the Ministry of War found in the Recopilaci_n de Leyes, 1931/31-1944/45. Back.

Note 95: MID report, The Army of Guatemala, 13 Jun 38; MID report, 5 Feb 1942, USNA/Suitland RG 165, Entry 77, Box 1572; Grieb, Guatemalan Caudillo: 45-47. Guatemalan officers today, retired or still on active duty, insist that Ubico disliked academy officers and worked to undermine the Politˇcnica. A few even said that Ubico never once visited the Politˇcnica, though this is false according to US embassy reports. Also, Ubico assigned a disproportionate number of academy officers to senior administrative and command positions. Keeping in mind that line officers made up about 90% of the officer corps in 1934, more than 40% of his known key personnel were Politˇcnica graduates, early and late in his administration. And many of his generals, whom academy officers labeled inept and crafty were academy graduates. Clearly, Ubico was not dead-set against academy officers. Finally, 73 of the 83 officers who fought on the side of revolutionaries in 1944 were line officers, a strange occurrence if line officers were so backward and conservative as they have been depicted. This data drawn from Escalaf_n, 1934; Memoria de Guerra, 1934; Presupuesto, 1944/45; Samayoa, Escuela Politˇcnica, 1964; US Military Intelligence Division, Record Group 165, Entry 77, Box 1572, Military Attache Reports, 1 Sep 1943 & 12 Apr 1943; USNA/Suitland RG 165, Entry 77, Box 1572, 5 Feb 1942; and Enclosure 2 of Affeld to Sec of State, 1662, 24 Oct 44, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 814.00. Back.

Note 96: Even then, a great majority of the laws emitted by government were presidential decrees or executive orders (decretos gubernativos or acuerdos gubernativos), particularly in the case of military policy. Over its thirteen year life, the Ubico government passed 280 laws concerning the military. 208 were executive agreements, 44 were presidential decrees, and 18 were legislative degrees, half of which confirmed executive agreements or decrees which Ubico had already handed down. Data gathered from Recopilaci_n de Leyes, 1930/31-1944/45. Back.

Note 97: Numerous examples appear in the communication between the War Ministry and the Ministries of Public Works (Fomento) and the Interior (Gobernaci_n), AGCA, Legajo 30365, Correspondencia del Ministerio de Guerra al Ministerio de Gobernaci_n, 1931; Legajo 22533, Correspondencia del Ministerio de Guerra al Ministerio de Fomento, 1930-1938. Back.

Note 98: Historians, even those disliking him, agree that Ubico's probity measures were effective. See Rafael Arˇvalo Mart'nez, Ubico (Guatemala: Tipograf'a Nacional, 1984): 154-157; Handy, Gift of the Devil: 94; Gleijeses, Shattered Hope: 11; and Grieb, Guatemalan Caudillo. Back.

Note 99: For military reforms, see Guatemala's 1945 Constitution. For Politˇcnica curricula, Samayoa, Escuela Politˇcnica: Tomo II, 171- 173, 207-210. Back.

Note 100: Gleijeses, Shattered Hope: 50-71. Back.

Note 101: Gleijeses, ibid., and Corrigan to Sec of State, Telegram 554, 13 Mar 63, USNA RG 59 CFPF, Box 3919, File Pol Guat. Back.

Note 102: See acuerdo gubernativo 10 Aug 54, "El estatuto pol'tica de la Repoblica de Guatemala," and acuerdo gubernativo of 8 Nov 54 and article 128 of the 1945 Ley Constitutiva del Ejˇrcito, in the Recopilaci_n de Leyes; also, Cifuentes interview. Back.

Note 103: See acuerdo gubernativo 31 Jan 55, in the Recopilaci_n de Leyes. Also, interview with Licenciado Alfonso Yurrita, 1994 (a Guatemalan military historian and son of one of the 1957 junta members), and Cifuentes interview. Back.

Note 104: For Air Force pilot fees, see acuerdo gubernativo of 15 Feb 61. The Guatemalan government began offering subsidized officer housing in 1949 (acuerdo gubernativo 7 Nov 49), usually using government fincas for the housing lots. The acuerdo gubernativo of 26 Jan 50 established the blind lottery system of assigning this benefit. Castillo's acuerdos gubernativos of 23 Feb 55 and 28 Oct 55 name the beneficiaries. Unfortunately, it is not known how many officers and soldiers received this benefit, or how much land was used for this benefit (it would be interesting to compare military housing with government housing programs for civilians). For other officer housing provisions during the years 1949-63 in the Recopilaci_n de Leyes, see acuerdos gubernativos of 15 May 50, 8 Aug 50, 10 Mar 52, 16 Jun 52, 9 Jul 52, 10 Jan 53, 27 Mar 53, 25 Sep 53, 25 Feb 54, 11 Mar 54, 13 May 54, 3 Oct 55 16 Mar 58, 22 aug 58, 13 Nov 58 17 Nov 58, 19 Jan 59, 7 Apr 59, 28 Jul 61, 4 Sep 62. Back.

Note 105: Reportedly, the assassin immediately committed suicide. Two of the Presidential guard were eventually convicted for complicity in the affair. Castillo's wife made a few oblique remarks suggesting that the military was behind the murder, though publicly she "lauded" the conduct of the army. Asensio-Wunderlich, King, Memo of Conversation, 3 Aug 57, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.00. According to Fernando Cifuentes, a Politˇcnica cadet at the time of the assassination, the rumor among cadets was that that Liberationist officers had planned the murder. Francisco Villagrün notes a similar suspicion in his memoir, Biograf'a Pol'tica: 291-292. Back.

Note 106: Villagrün, Biograf'a Pol'tica: 310-311; Sparks to Sec of State, Telegrams 162 and 163, 26 Oct 57, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.00. Back.

Note 107: Cunningham to State Dept, Despatch 193, 2 Dec 60, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.00 Back.

Note 108: Decreto gubernativo 55, 26 Jun 63; Decreto gubernativo 83, 14 Aug 63; Acuerdo gubernativo, 6 Sep 63; and Decreto 181, 26 Feb 64, in the Recopilaci_n de Leyes; also Cifuentes interview. Back.

Note 109: Weaver, "Political Style of the Guatemalan Military Elite;" and Villagrün, Biograf'a Pol'tica: 430-435. Back.

Note 110: Weaver, ibid. For archive transfer, see acuerdo gubernativo 3 Mar 65, in the Recopilaci_n de Leyes. Back.

Note 111: Or, as one US official put it: it is felt that [Civic Action] is ideally suited for Guatemala where a large number of military personnel appear to be interminably hanging around stagnant, doing nothing constructive and who, upon completion of their period of conscription, return to their rural homes having derived nothing positive from their military experience. See Muccio to Sec of State, 1 Jul 60, USNA RG 59, doc. ser. 714.5-MSP. Back.

Note 112: Manuel Rodriguez Sol's, Misi_n del Ejˇrcito y justificaci_n de su existencia, in Deontolog'a Militar, edited by Juan Josˇ Sol's Morales (Guatemala: Editorial del Ejˇrcito, 1964). Back.

Note 113: Josˇ Lu's Cruz Salazar, "El Ejˇrcito y la Reforma Agraria," prev. cit. Back.

Note 114: Bulmer-Thomas, Political Economy of Central America; James Dunkerly, The Pacification of Central America (New York: Verso, 1994); R. Ramalinga Iyer, et. al., Centroamˇrica: indicadores socioecon_micas para el desarollo (San Josˇ : Ediciones FLASCO, 1983); Jim Handy, "Resurgent Democracy and the Guatemalan Military," Journal of Latin American Studies 18 (1986): 383-408; Susanne Jonas, "Contradictions of Guatemala's Political Opening," Latin American Perspectives 15, 3 (Summer 1988): 26-46; Robert Trudeau, Guatemalan Politics: the Popular Struggle for Democracy (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 1993); Robert G. Williams, Export Agriculture and the Crisis in Central America (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1986). Back.

Note 115: Charles Tilly, "Democracy is a Lake," in The Social Construction of Democracy, edited by George Reid Andrew and Herrick Chapman (New York: New York University Press, 1993): 382. Back.