XIII
Like most persons with the inferiority complex, the Latin-American is extremely sensitive. He resents, even more than the humiliation of gringo assistance, the assumption of loftier worth which usually characterizes the Anglo-Saxon.
This assumption, to us, is often quite unconscious. If we are aware of our national self-satisfaction, most of us try to hide it when traveling in the southern republics. Our diplomats and business men seek valiantly to proclaim our great admiration of our neighbors. It has become the fashion in our writing to promote an entente cordiale by flattering the people of these countries. The charming woman writer in particular—who makes a brief trip to the more modern cities of Chile and the Argentine, meets only the aristocracy, and completes her book as a bread-and-butter letter to the delightful people who fed her tea and cakes—is inclined nowadays, in her impulse to jolt out of his complacency the reader at home, to picture all the Latin-Americans as infinitely superior to our own crude selves.
Yet all of us, even though we may have acquired a strong affection for our friends of the southland, still consider ourselves their peers. We know that every gringo is not to be ranked above every Latin-American. But we are confident that man for man—lawyer for lawyer, doctor for doctor, soldier for soldier, farmer for farmer—the Anglo-Saxon usually surpasses his counterpart in physique, intelligence, education, ability and character, if not in refinement. The Latin-American himself is aware of the contrast. He may, and sometimes does, voluntarily admit it. But he is naturally a trifle resentful when the gringo, by word or action, reminds him of it.
We remind him quite frequently. The most considerate traveler will lapse unintentionally at times into an attitude of condescension. Our kindly church-goers at home contribute their pennies to missionary enterprises in order that he may be educated and uplifted. And as though this were not the supreme height of international insult, however much he may actually need education and uplift, we appoint ourselves the policemen of the continent, take him under our paternal wing, and threaten to spank him if he misbehaves.
We assume that he should appreciate our kindliness and love us as the big brother we consider ourselves to be. On the contrary, he not only dislikes us as a nation, but distrusts our motives. He looks upon us—and frequently with good cause—as hypocrites who pat him upon the back as a prelude to selling him American products. In our missionary efforts he sees only a colossal national vanity. In the application of our Monroe Doctrine he scents an ambition for the conquest of his country.
To the average American this last statement may sound ridiculous. When we promulgated that doctrine, we thought only of Europe. It was later, when we realized that European nations might disregard it unless their citizens or property were protected in Latin America that we undertook to supervise the conduct of our neighbors’ wars and revolutions. Our ambitions for conquest at present are purely commercial. But there are several incidents in our past history which these little republics remember with foreboding. They remember, for instance, that we fought with Mexico about Texas, and emerged victorious with Arizona, Utah, Nevada, and California. They feel that there is something a little funny in the way Panama started its revolution against Colombia just about the time we wished to build the Panama Canal. They question our philanthropic motives in Nicaragua. They are always wondering where the lightning may strike next.
So firmly convinced are most of our neighbors that we are what they always describe as “the grasping Colossus of the North,” that when our government exercises forbearance, they merely suspect us of cowardice. When Woodrow Wilson for many years let Mexico literally get away with murder, his idealism was misunderstood. For a time Latin America looked upon the United States as a braggart that never executed its repeated diplomatic threats. Carranza, the special protégé of our State Department, posed before the neighboring presidents as a guardian of Latin-American rights, and had envoys touring the southern continent in an effort to align Guatemala, Nicaragua, Colombia, Chile, Argentina, and other countries, in a secret entente against the United States.
Personally I dislike our meddling in Latin-American affairs. It seems to me that it should be any government’s privilege to run a revolution in its own country if it so chooses. But there are many gringos in all these republics, who came there in accordance with local constitutional guarantees, and sometimes at the invitation of the government itself, who must be protected. If we do not occasionally step in, Europe will. Latin America—with the exception of the few nations which conduct their elections in peace—expects it. The Latin-American resents it, but he despises us when we abstain.
If we are to uphold our prestige, however, we must apply our foreign policies—whatever they may be—to all republics consistently.
“We never know just what to expect from your government,” a Supreme Court justice said to me in Honduras. “You tell us again and again, for instance, that you will recognize only a constitutionally elected president, who gains office without force. Yet to-day you have recognized nine Latin-American presidents who did gain office by force.”
These were the presidents of Peru, Bolivia, Venezuela, Nicaragua, Salvador, Honduras, Guatemala, Santo Domingo, and Mexico.
“And you tell us also,” continued the Justice, “that at all times, we must protect American property. If we of the little countries do not, you immediately send down your gunboats. In Nicaragua, two American filibusters, convicted of murder, are executed, and presently you take over the entire country. In Mexico, during many revolutions, countless Americans are slain, and much property damaged, and you content yourselves with writing notes. To us of the little countries, it all seems very unfair.”
As to the recognition of Latin-American presidents, Heaven help the State Department to apply a consistent rule, when so few are legitimately elected! But as to the protection of American property, there can be but one right course. Either it is not worth protecting, or it is, whether it be in Nicaragua or Mexico. Practically all Central-Americans to-day, although too polite to voice their opinion, look upon us as something of a bully who picks on the weaker republics.