EFFECTS OF THE WAR ON THE REPUBLICS
El país de mañana, "the Country of Tomorrow." One may hear the proverb any day on the lips of Spaniard or Spanish-American in whimsical self-criticism concerning his own ways and those of his people and country. But the word applies in another sense to the Spanish-American republics. They are the countries of tomorrow, the lands of the future, the lands of promise, this score of Latin-American republics; for they are twenty in number. Owing to want of space and the comprehensive character of our subject, I have been obliged to speak of Latin America as a whole. This is not inappropriate, for Latin America does form a world in itself, as all Latin-Americans feel, and indicate in their intercourse with one another. Thus, one may quite rightly speak of Latin America as a whole, just as one used to speak of Europe as a whole. But this western world, which sprang from the Iberian Peninsula, is a group of twenty republics differing from one another in situation and character and, to some degree also, in ethnology and manner of language. These countries extend through every habitable latitude, and most of the republics contain within their own borders every habitable altitude. Their products are boundless, both in abundance and in variety, and these products might be multiplied indefinitely. Name any one of the republics, and you are naming a symbol of wealth, of existing wealth, and still more, of manifold future wealth.
Gast's pamphlet, summarised in the second chapter, speaks of eighty million people "reaching upward and now setting their feet on the first steps of their life-journey." The expression may seem a little inappropriate and, at first sight, even a little derogatory. But it is true: and, on reflection, no South American need feel hurt at this description, which is in fact a justification of the past history and present position of his country. These countries are young. They have known the turbulence of youth. Now they are pushing their way, vigorously enough, towards maturity and clearly developed form. The fact was distinctly stated by a Brazilian, lecturing lately in King's College, London, who said: "The Nineteenth Century was the age of experiment; the Twentieth Century will be the age of fulfilment." These countries still require interpretation to Europe. Hampered at their first start, at the epoch of emancipation, by the exhausting and confusing character of that long struggle, by want of political experience, by the ignorance of the masses and, in some parts, by ethnological difficulties, they were obliged to spend a generation or two in clearing up the aftermath of that revolution; and in most cases their political constitutions (although in form they are models of constitutional law) are in their actual working only now emerging from the stage of experiment, sometimes confused and shifting experiments, sometimes rough-and-ready expedients. For example, in the Argentine Confederation and also in the United States of Brazil, the relations between the Federal Government and the Governments of the States have not attained that regular equilibrium which prevails in the United States, an equilibrium which was there only procured at the cost of a tremendous civil war. In most of the republics the relations between the Executive and the Legislature have scarcely reached a stable adjustment. We should remember that Brazil only shook off the monarchical form of government in 1889, and that it was some years before that revolution was really completed. Again, in the republic best known to England, the Argentine Confederation, the multifarious and cosmopolitan mixture of immigration from all the Mediterranean lands has hardly yet coalesced to form a definite national type. The origin of these states, though superficially resembling that of the United States, was in fact fundamentally different. For every one of the thirteen British colonies of North America was, in a sense, grown up and a developed entity at the moment of emancipation, since they had all possessed local parliamentary constitutions of the British type from the beginning of their colonial days. The initial condition of the Latin-American states was much more formless and their early difficulties were much more complex.
Some of these lands show the character of youth in the tendency to imitation, the adoption of French and especially of Parisian ways, not realising how much better is a genuine native development than the imitation of even the best models. Another symptom of youth is the lavish and sometimes ostentatious spending of money. If the Spanish-American has money, he spends it like a schoolboy, and he likes a splash for his money. Another sign of youth is the rather exaggerated national or civic amour-propre, a lively touchiness concerning outside criticism—a sentiment which inclines one to be rather diffident and apologetic even about making such remarks as these. This is a local, not a racial characteristic in the South American, for the Spaniard is even more proudly indifferent than the Englishman concerning what the foreigner thinks.
These young states have hitherto acquiesced in their economic dependence upon Europe. European immigration (at least on the east coast), Government loans raised in Europe, provision of public utilities by European capital, importation of almost all manufactured articles from abroad—these have been to most South Americans the accepted conditions of life. Thus, all these republics felt a sharp and instant shock at the outbreak of the European war. The economic equilibrium was upset, and the machine ceased to work. The stream of European capital suddenly dried up: so also the stream of immigration. Indeed, the supply of labour in the Atlantic States, especially in the River Plate, dropped below the normal after Italy joined the Allies. Scarcity of shipping, together with the diversion to war purposes of all European energies, diminished the exportation from South America of all commodities not absolutely needed by the Allies for the prosecution of the war. Imports from Europe were restricted. Germany, which had ranked third among outside nations trading with the continent, dropped out altogether, with the exception of the devious and struggling efforts already noted. To the nations of South America what had seemed the natural and regular order of things was suddenly suspended. They were thrown upon their own resources; they were compelled to take stock of their position and to face an unprecedented situation. They must manage their finances without European help; they must provide their own labour. As to things hitherto imported from Europe, they must either provide these things themselves or go without. The shock was severe, but it must be allowed to have been a wholesome shock. It has stopped public over-borrowing and has put some check on extravagance of public spending. It has favoured private thrift and has compelled those who were perhaps over light-hearted and materialistic to take life more seriously. The Argentine family, which formerly provided separate motor-cars for father, mother and each son and daughter, has now to be content with one or none. The luxurious trip to Paris or London, with its corollary of mountainous shopping, is abandoned, and a more modest holiday is spent at the seaside or in the mountains at home. The daily story, flashed along the cables from Europe, of strife, of heroism, of self-sacrifice, conduces to reflection and grave judgment. Finally, the meaning of the struggle has been now brought home to every South American people. Every one of them is closely touched by the recent developments of maritime warfare. Every one is forced to come to a decision. Whatever that decision may be, whether it be for open war, or limited participation, or rupture of relations, or complete neutrality, that decision is expectantly watched by the whole world and adds its weight in the balance of the great trial. The effect must be a graver sense of national responsibility, a more sober consciousness of national dignity.
The economic recovery, which followed the first shock, favoured this national consolidation and development. Imports diminished, whereas the urgent demand of the Allies for foodstuffs and raw materials soon produced, in most of the states, a great expansion in the value, if not in the volume of exports. Hence a favourable trade balance and an increase in wealth. These conditions encouraged that movement of industrial enterprise which everywhere sought to supply, by the exploitation of home products and by the development of home manufactures, the needs which had been hitherto supplied by importation from abroad. Examples, taken mostly from the A.B.C. countries, will best illustrate this industrial movement, which has been one of the most notable effects of the war.
Argentina felt deeply the shock of August 1914. The outbreak of war fell like a bomb in the midst of a serious financial depression, due to speculation, extravagance and over-borrowing. The trouble was intensified by drought and by two bad harvests, and more recently by widespread strikes accompanied by destructive violence. But the crisis has compelled the Argentines to rely upon themselves, to restrict extravagances and to push forward the industrial development of their own resources. Thus, the diminution in the supply of English coal has led to the search for native coal, to the use of native petroleum and native fire-wood. Lessened timber imports mean the exploitation of native forests. A considerable quantity of native wool is now spun and woven in the country, and home manufacture generally is increasing. Thus the country is richer and more industrious than ever before. It is true that this wholesome recovery is not yet reflected in the national finances, which are still disordered by extravagance, over-borrowing, improvident budgets, and now by the diminished receipts from customs. However, one very interesting event deserves special mention—the credit or loan granted by the Argentine Government to the Allies for the purchase of the present harvest. Since Argentine Government loans are mostly held in Western Europe, the debt can be discharged with equal benefit to both sides, by simply taking over the obligations of the Argentine Government on this side of the Atlantic. Even more remarkable is the spontaneous offer made to Great Britain by the Uruguayan Government of a large credit for the purchase of the Uruguayan harvest. Thus, these two debtor nations have actually become creditors to Europe, and are proceeding to gather into national ownership a large part of the national debt. Uruguay is taking another and most striking step towards economic consolidation. She is preparing to avail herself of the growing national wealth and the increased value of the Uruguayan dollar in order to buy up enterprises owned by foreigners within her territory, particularly the railways, which are mostly in British hands. It may here be noted that this economic movement in Uruguay coincides with a radical and democratic reform of the constitution, a nearer intimacy with her Latin neighbours, an approach to the United States, and also closer relations with Europe through the abandonment of neutrality and the signature of unconditional treaties of arbitration with France and Great Britain.
In Brazil, the economic recovery, the industrial development and the general movement of national consolidation are very notable. For the entry of Brazil into the war has added a tone of effort, of serious determination, of grave responsibility to this combined movement. At the outbreak of war the great diminution in the export of coffee, which had constituted nearly half of the total exports from Brazil, hit the country very hard. But the energetic exploitation of other resources, together with a partial resumption of coffee exports, has made good the national loss. The Allies wanted rubber and manganese, which Brazil can supply. The Allies wanted foodstuffs; and Brazil has become, with almost incredible rapidity, an exporter of meat and of vegetable foods. Coal ceased to come from Europe. The result has been that Brazil is striving to supply her own needs by working her southern coal seams, although at the present time want of transport is a serious obstacle to these efforts. Manufactures of all kinds are increasing. Brazilian cotton particularly is now largely woven at home, and this textile industry alone now employs about 100,000 persons. Brazil is also taking more and more into her own hands her coastal and river navigation, and is extending her shipping lines to foreign ports. The result of this industrial and commercial revival has been that, notwithstanding the decrease in the matter of coffee, Brazilian exports now outstrip their pre-war value, and they represent a far more wholesome and more promising distribution of the national resources, since there is no longer an overwhelming preponderance of one commodity raised in one state. Moreover, notwithstanding the burdens of participation in the war, Brazil has achieved by means of careful economy and retrenchment, a wholesome reorganisation of the Federal finances. The war has not prevented the punctual resumption, on the promised date, of cash payment of interest on the foreign debt. The country presents a wholesome aspect of national efficiency and national dignity.
It may be added here that the industrial movement in Brazil has been greatly aided by the investment of North American capital, particularly in meat-freezing establishments. It is perhaps premature to think of Brazil, with her vast and undeveloped pastoral, agricultural and forestal possibilities, as an industrial country. But the possession of large deposits of iron indicates great industrial possibilities in the future. One difficulty, the soft character of Brazilian coal, may possibly be overcome, whether by import of fuel or by the adaptation of mechanical appliances.
Chile, like her neighbours, felt the first shock. Germany, the principal purchaser of nitrates, was cut off; and the republic found by sudden experience, how dangerous and unsound was the system whereby the national finances depended largely on export duties levied upon one commodity. The administration rose to the necessities of the case: taxation was distributed upon a more scientific and normal basis, and very soon the war situation began to pour wealth into the lap of the republic. Nitrate, needed by the Allies for munitions, reached its highest price and its maximum production. Copper—now perhaps the most precious of metals—followed the same course. After-war conditions, particularly in regard to nitrate, are impossible to foresee. But Chile has had her lesson, not to depend on the continuance of what may be accidental conditions and not to build on the foundation of the market in one commodity. "The war," says a representative Chilian, "has brought us a certain prosperity and also something that is worth more than prosperity—common sense."
The industrial movement, which has been noted elsewhere, is being actively pushed forward in Chile, where indeed it dates from a time long before the war; for in Chile local manufactures are favoured by local conditions, namely, remoteness from Europe, a sturdy population, the possession of coal and metals, and, also, a very distinct and compact national character and national ambition, which owe little to recent European immigration. In 1914—just before the war—Chile possessed nearly 8000 factories employing about 90,000 persons. It has often been questioned whether Chile, with a population of less than four millions and a fertile territory largely undeveloped, did wisely to encourage this industrial movement. The war has answered that question. Chilian coal now mainly supplies Chilian needs; and, owing to careful treatment and selection, the results have surpassed expectation. The number of factories is growing; and in view of freight difficulties, there is a movement towards exporting mineral products in a semi-manufactured state.
As to the other republics, the immediate economic effects of the war vary with the character of exports, whether needed by the Allies for war purposes or not. The high prices of copper, sugar, and cotton have brought to Peru a stream of wealth, and have enabled the government to make a very interesting experiment in the scientific taxation of excess war-profits made by exportation. Exports are untaxed until they reach a certain height above normal price. Any addition to that limit is taxed in a progressive ratio.
Not only have war conditions favoured a more clearly defined national development, both economic and political, in each of the states. These conditions also conduce to closer and more real intercourse between the Latin-American states. There has been on the one hand a national consolidation in each republic: but there has also been a movement towards international consolidation in the Latin-American world. The war has drawn these republics closer together and has taught them to feel their need of one another, to supply one another's needs and to recognise a nearer community of social and political interests. The sentiment of Americanismo is more than a sentiment: it is growing into a solid fact. Apart from the war, there are many indications of a kindlier and more intimate intercourse. The Universities of Argentina, Chile and Uruguay exchange professors. Brazil and Uruguay agree concerning navigation of the Lago de Merim and the river Jaguarão; and also arrange a seasonal migration of labourers, who work from April to September on the São Pãolo coffee estates and pass the other half-year working on Uruguayan estancias. The same two republics adjust a financial matter through the foundation of a joint Brazilian-Uruguayan agricultural college. Uruguay has declared that an injury to any South American country is an injury to them all. Envoys from the neighbour-republics visit Bolivia to salute the newly-elected Bolivian President, among them an envoy from the United States. Junior embassies, hardly less interesting in character, are the visits of boy scouts from capital to capital. The five tropical republics which hail Bolívar as Liberator lately clasped hands in a joint celebration of his memory, and at the same time concluded a commercial agreement concerning trade marks and similar matters. The study of history, now actively pursued by competent scholars in all the republics, is a unifying as well as a humanising power: for the student who explores or writes the early history of his own republic necessarily treats the history of all Latin America. The history of the struggle for South American emancipation is a single epic. And a pleasing symbol of this historical unity is to be seen in the portrait of the Argentine commander San Martín and of the Venezuelan Bolívar imprinted on the postage stamps of Peru. The railroad helps this movement. The trans-Andine railway is a link of peaceful intercourse between Chile and Argentina. A direct mail train service has been established between Rio and Montevideo and also between Rio and Buenos Aires. There is a prospect that the last difficult link to connect the railway systems of Bolivia and Argentina will soon be supplied. This is an imperfect and rather haphazard list of symptoms of a natural and tranquil movement towards international unity, which accompanies and supplements a more vigorous economic and political development within the several states. The war situation has favoured this movement. The interruption or diminution of trade with Europe has led these states to trade more with one another. At first, this trade consisted largely in the interchange of accumulated European goods: but it soon grew into something more regular and more permanent, the interchange of home products. Argentina recently got a consignment of coal from Chile—in itself a small matter, but a significant one. Brazilian coal has also found its way to Buenos Aires, and trade between these two republics is increasing.
Both Brazil and Chile are aiming at the national and internal development of their mercantile marine and coasting trade. But the first use which Brazil made of the sequestrated German ships was the opening of a Brazilian steamship line to Chile. The action of Chile is still more noticeable. A law has just passed the Chilian Congress that after the lapse of ten years the Chilian coastwise trade shall be confined to Chilian ships. But the Chilian President may at his discretion extend this privilege, by way of reciprocity, to the merchant-ships of other Latin-American countries—a clear recognition of the fact that these republics form a community of nations in themselves. Thus the two movements are complementary: internal development is more and more a national affair: the development of inter-state relations is felt to be a necessary part of the national development, and more and more to concern all the states: it is also felt to concern these people not only as Brazilians or Argentines or Colombians, but as Americanos. In dwelling on this point, there is probably no danger of giving rise to geographical confusion. A Colombian visitor, lecturing lately in King's College, remarked that, if a British merchant is invited to do business with Colombia, he usually replies, "We have our agent for South America in Buenos Aires," ignoring the fact that, if a Colombian merchant by any rare chance should have occasion to visit Buenos Aires, he would probably pass through London on the way. The trade of all these states with one another is naturally immensely less than with Europe or with the United States, for the simple reason that they are all producers of raw materials and importers of manufactured goods, whereas the European lands, and now the United States also, are importers of raw materials and exporters of manufactured goods. But that very circumstance illustrates the fact that these countries are a cluster of similar organisms. They sit back to back and face outwards: yet as each one grows and expands, they all become conscious that they are sitting close, shoulder to shoulder. They are beginning to touch hands and to pass their good things, both abstract and material, from one to another. Things are changed since the names of Brazilian and Argentine were almost mutual bugbears and since Chile and Argentina seemed to be chronically "spoiling for a fight." The figure of Christ, which stands on the boundary between these two nations, symbolises a truth—a reality all the more valuable inasmuch as it is in part intangible, a product of the realm of ideas, not merely of the material world. The fault of these countries and an unfortunate result of their business connexion with Europe has been that, however prolific in rhetoric, they have been at bottom too materialistic and have been apt to suppose that the convenient appurtenances of civilisation—railways, telephones, tramways, motor-cars, all provided by the foreigner—in themselves constitute civilisation, not quite realising that the word means the faculty of living in organised communities. It is an admirable thing if they can find an ideal, transcending their own borders, in the sentiment or principle or fact of Americanismo: for that word does represent a fact. An Englishman or a Frenchman, if asked about his origin, would never think of saying, "I am a European"; but from the lips of an Argentine or a Colombian the words Soy Americano fall quite naturally, with the addition Colombiano or Argentino. I have heard a South American speak in conversation of La América Nuestra, "Our America," when he had occasion to distinguish Latin America from the United States. The word was casually dropped for purposes of definition: yet it is an inspiring and significant phrase, América Nuestra. Which of us could now so speak of "Our Europe"?
The war has favoured this spirit of Americanism in a tangible way through the growth of economic intercourse. On a higher and broader plane, the same thing is happening. We saw this when Brazil severed relations with Germany. Her announcement, communicated to her neighbour-republics, was received with a kind of demonstration of Latin-American solidarity. Almost every Latin-American state responded in terms of warm appreciation and sympathy. The Argentine Government wrote that it "appreciated thoroughly the attitude of Brazil, which was justified by principles of universal public right, and expressed to Brazil the most sincere sentiments of confraternity."
As the Americano looks across the Atlantic, he may congratulate himself, not without a feeling of civic pride, that he belongs to another world, a system of republics living at peace with one another. A century ago Canning boasted, "I have called a New World into existence to redress the balance of the Old." It was a prophecy rather than a boast. Now is the time for that New World to fulfil that prophecy by realising itself, by creating itself.
It is no inconsistency to add once more that Latin America is at the same time drawing nearer to all the nations of the world, that its long-standing historic connexion with Europe becomes emphasised and extended. Who could have foretold, even a year ago, that the Republics of Peru and of Uruguay would offer the use of their ports to the warships of belligerent European monarchies, that Brazil, Cuba and Panamá would be represented, as recently happened, at the Allied Conference in Paris, or that a Brazilian squadron would be acting with the British fleet in European waters? It can no longer be said of these states, as was said some years ago, that they stand upon the margin of international life. This closer participation in world affairs does not contradict, but rather confirms and explains, what has been said concerning the growth of Americanismo, the consolidation of a younger and distinct Europe across the ocean. As these states become drawn into the general movement of world affairs, they are compelled to define more clearly their own position in a world of their own. One may find some analogy in the British Empire, whose members, as they grow into nations and become severally involved in relations with all other peoples, find it more necessary to reaffirm and to define their relations with one another.
But in speaking of Latin America, one has to draw a line, or rather a note of interrogation, round Mexico. The history of that unfortunate country has been profoundly affected by her geographical position within the North American continent. The path which she has followed in recent years—a path not entirely of her own choosing—seems rather to lead outside the ring-fence of Latin America. It is an interesting speculation whether that path may not eventually lead her into another fold, the fold whose shepherd resides in the White House at Washington, whether that shepherd desires to undertake the responsibility or not.
The present position is an anomalous one. The political frontier of the United States is the Rio Grande, but the geographical frontier of North America is the Isthmus of Panamá, and that geographical frontier has been occupied—merely as an outpost so far—-by the United States. The Republics of Nicaragua and of Panamá have been drawn under American tutelage. The question arises whether after the great war the United States may not be led on by the logic of events so to extend the struggle on behalf of democracy against autocracy that the frontier, dividing Latin America from the region under Anglo-Saxon control, shall be the geographical boundary between the two continents. President Wilson indeed has assured the Mexicans, with obvious conviction and sincerity, that no aggression is intended against their territory, and that he desires a common guarantee of all the American republics to protect the "political independence and territorial integrity" of all. But no statesman can shape the future or absolutely bind his successors. It may be pointed out that there are various degrees and methods of control, some of which may be found not quite incompatible with the spirit of President Wilson's assurances. The precedents of Cuba, Panamá and Nicaragua are suggestive.
This leads us to our last topic. We have discussed Americanismo, the sentiment or system which aims at uniting the Latin-American republics. What about Pan-Americanism, the sentiment or system which aims at uniting all the American republics?