Book Review: The Mexican Revolution 1910-1940 by Michael J. Gonzalez

The Mexican Revolution 1910-1940

by Michael J. Gonzalez

      Tons of books have been written about the Mexican Revolution of 1910-1920. They vary widely in length, attention to detail, attitudes towards the people involved, and political bias in general. They also contradict each other depending on what information the authors had access to. Content can be confusing as well since different leaders and factions of the Revolution changed allegiances and sometimes fought with those they previously supported. And from the top political leaders to the military commanders to the common rank and file soldiers, there is an extremely wide range of reasoning for joining in the battles. Whether it was even one revolution or a series of loosely related rebellions and counter-rebellions is still an open question. In short, learning about the Mexican Revolution can be a mind-boggling task. Some places are better than others to start. Michael J. Gonzalez’s The Mexican Revolution 1910-1940 is one of the better entry points into this vast and overwhelming period of Latin American history.

As a historical text, this one reaches back into the 19^th century, charting the rise of Porfirio Diaz. He can largely be credited with ushering Mexico into the modern age by introducing industrial technology into the country and embracing liberal, big business economic policy. While this benefited the wealthy class most, it also left the majority of Mexicans behind in poverty. The hacienda system of economic organization also disinherited some agriculturalists from their holdings. American businessmen and multinational corporations, especially oil companies, were given almost free access to Mexico’s natural resources. None of this benefited the Mexican people except for the well-connected oligarchs and technocrats. It is the old story of the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer. Porfirio Diaz became more autocratic and dictatorial while the rest of the country went into economic decline.

A pro-democracy movement started with the Portuguese aristocrat Francisco I. Madero. The initial battles of the revolution started when the peasantry joined forces with members of the middle and upper classes to overthrow the Diaz regime. This inspired land reform movements led by Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata. After Madero’s assassination, the Huerta counter-revolutionary presidency took over. It was short lived and after the revolutionary conference of Aguascalientes, another landowner named Venustiano Carranza took office and established a new Mexican constitution. As the warfare wore down, leaders like Obregon, Calles, and Cardenas institutionalized the ideals of the Mexican Revolution although the Zapatista ideal of land reform that received so much support from the rural peasantry fell by the wayside. Mexico’s ruling party, the PRI, was established but, unfortunately sold out by becoming more autocratic and corrupt, allowing foreign corporations to access their resources once again though to the chagrin of the American empire, the PRI nationalized the oil fields. They continued making noises about pushing Mexico towards the status of a first world nation, but forward movement progressed only in bits and pieces. The PRI betrayed some of the dreams of the Mexican Revolution, but not all of them. The realization of that dream is yet to come.

Gonzalez’s analysis of the years following the end of revolutionary combat operations is one of this book’s strong points. A lot of books on this subject end with the political ascendancy of Obregon. It’s as if the forces set in motion by the revolution just abruptly stopped in 1920 according to many accounts. Of course, any student of history will tell you that isn’t a realistic way of looking at political upheavals. Otherwise this book is mostly a top down view of the Mexican Revolution meanng the emphasis is placed on politics at the governmental level. While the activism and leadership of Villa and Zapata are readily acknowledged, they take a back seat to what went on at the federal level. Villa’s stint as governor of Chihuahua is never even mentioned. Details of different battles are almost entirely left out and biographical information about key figures in the revolution is absent too. This book really just documents and summarizes the high points of the movement according to Gonzalez’s viewpoint. He does this in a way that is accessible, clear, and engaging though.

The Mexican Revolution 1910-1940 serves as an easy introduction to this pivotal conflict in Mexico’s modern history. It draws you in and prepares you for further reading from more in depth sources. It can also be of interest for those who already know about the Mexican Revolution and who the major figures were. It can clarify the intricate mess that more complete studies make it out to be. It can also be a good recap or refresher if you’ve previously read about it and want to get back into the subject matter after some time has passed. Michael J. Gonzalez has written a good functional book that doesn’t exhaust the subject matter but does prime you for more. The Mexican Revolution is a significant event in the formation of the Mexican national identity and understanding what went on will help you understand the roots of contemporary Mexico and their relations with the rest of the world, especially with the United States. This book is a good place to start. 

 

Book Review: The Life and Times of Pancho Villa by Friedrich Katz

The Life and Times of Pancho Villa

by Friedrich Katz

      The Mexican Revolution is a difficult subject to approach. It was a loosely organized aeries of uprisings that lasted a little more than a decade. Some of the key figures, especially military commanders were obscure people with obscure motivations. Alliances shifted constantly, sometimes inexplicably. Historical records of events in Mexico at that time were not meticulously kept. A lot of what people know about the revolution is apocryphal and based in folklore, legend, and sometimes propaganda and yellow journalism. It’s no wonder that historians who tackle this field of knowledge often contradict each other in their accounts. It’s hard to tell the truth when the truth is so uncertain. One way of reducing the amount of murkiness and confusion surrounding the Mexican Revolution is to write about it from a biographical standpoint so that one historical figure can act as an anchor, making it easier to organize and analyze the confusing mass of information. That is what the Austrian historian Friedrich Karz does in The Life and Times of Pancho Villa.

The whole story starts out in the northern state of Chihuahua where military veterans of the Mexico-Apache wars were given land as reward for their fighting. As the dictatorship of Porfirio Diaz grew in power, the increasingly unpopular oligarchs Luis Terrazas and Enrique Creel were encroaching on people’s land, establishing haciendas, and instituting a system of debt peonage. Francisco Madero started a pro-democracy uprising to unseat Diaz and one of his military commanders was a former bandit named Pancho Villa. This ex-bandit had a natural talent for military leadership and quickly rose in the ranks. His army unit was composed of mostly peasant agriculturalists and Indians and their agitation for land reform and redistribution came into the revolution along with them.

Understanding the mind and personality of Pancho Villa is not an easy task. A lot is known about what he did, but personal accounts of what he was like as a man are on the sketchy side. He is known for being compassionate and cruel in equal measures, he moved easily among the poorest and richest members of society, his educational level was low but he had a natural intelligence and a curiosity for learning, and he was a bigamist who married several women and had a large brood of children. None of this tells you much about the inner workings of his mind. But I also suspect that Katz is not the kind of author who has an aptitude for that kind of writing.

Nevertheless, Pancho Villa’s story is amazing. After helping Madero overthrow the dictatorship, Villa was imprisoned for some unclear reason. After Villa escaped, the military commander Huerta overthrew Madero and reestablished the dictatorship. Villa called up his armies again and the next phase of civil war began. After the revolutionaries called the Conference of Aguascalientes, Villa formed a loose alliance with Emiliano Zapata since both caudillos stood for the cause of land reform. Villa seized power in Chihuaua as acting governor for a while, then eventually returned to fighting in the war, this time against the faction of the revolution lead by Venustiano Carranza, the man who ratified the new Mexican constitution. Just like in the French Revolution, and so many other revolutions in the past, the revolutionary soldiers entered into combat against each other. By the end of the decade, Villa was losing favor with his followers but he kept fighting, probably because he didn’t know what else to do with himself. During this period before his assassination, he led an attack north of the American border on the town of Columbus, New Mexico. This led to a brief invasion into Mexico by the American army that resulted in nothing but more chaos.

There is so much more to this story and most of it is written here in minute details. It is an understatement to say that Friedrich Katz is anal retentive. Ultimately, though, he is on the tolerable side of detail oriented writing, thereby making it just possible to digest. If he had given any more details this book would have been impossible to read. But the details are the best and the worst thing about this biography. By giving such long, drawn out explanations, Katz runs the risk of boring his readers to death and drowning them in information. But at least the information is relevant and, actually, it works to his benefit. Since the Mexican Revolution can be such a swamp of muck to unpack, something goes to be said for the excessive details. Writing it all out this way separates the different strands of the history, bringing them into sharper focus, and making it easy to examine each part of the story in clarity. A quality microscope can make a splotch of biological matter easier to see in its complexity by expanding and exaggerating its appearance so its disorganization looks more organized for our perception. That is what Katz accomplishes in this book. Even though this work is so thorough that it can induce migraines for the reader, it is worth the torment of reading it because it ends up being the most comprehensible and clearly written book on the Mexican Revolution I have encountered so far.

Another impressive aspect of this biography is Katz’s unwillingness to take sides in an argument when he feels there is not enough evidence to draw a strong conclusion. A case in point is the issue of why American president Woodrow Wilson supported the Villista forces at first and then switched sides to support the Constitutionalist Carrancistas. Katz gives multiple perspectives on the issue, but doesn’t come to a definite conclusion because there isn’t any documented records directly explaining Wilson’s stances. Other issues treated in this similar way are Madero’s reasoning for imprisoning Villa, Villa’s continued support for Madero after being imprisoned, Villa’s reasoning for fighting against Carranza and his troops, whether Villa was persuaded by a German agent to attack Columbus as part of a conspiracy to keep America out of World War I, and who was behind the assassination of Villa. He even contemplates the unanswered question of why Villa continued his campaigns of guerilla warfare for so long after the Revolution had lost meaning for him. While it is useful to speculate on unanswerable historical problems, it is even more commendable when a scholar is humble enough to admit that he doesn’t know what the right answers are.

To be blunt, The Life and Times of Pancho Villa is a pain in the ass to read because of its length, excessive detail, and Germanic writing style that could very well make your hemorrhoids act up. But if there is only one book you ever read about the Mexican Revolution, this one is worth the trouble. That’s not to say it exhausts the subject matter because it doesn’t. But it does clarify a lot of the confusion surrounding this hotly debated topic of Mexican history. And by the end, it makes it easy to see why Pancho Villa remains a hero of the poor and the working classes in Mexico, along with Leftists in other countries, and such a villain to heartless conservatives who think the world should only belong to them. And Villa is even a saint to some devotees of Santa Muerte.

 

Book Review: Emiliano Zapata: Revolution and Betrayal in Mexico by Samuel Brunk

Emiliano Zapata:

Revolution and Betrayal in Mexico

by Samuel Brunk

      Here in Los Estados Unidos we don’t hear much about the Mexican Revolution of 1910-20. Most of what we get are Hollywood caricatures of bandits with moustaches on horses wearing sombreros and bandoliers over their serapes, riding around in the desert, shooting rifles and pistols into the air while swearing in broken English. Of course, when people learn about history through movies they are bound to get a few wrongheaded ideas about life in other countries. (Don’t even get me started on how idiotic the movie Braveheart is) But then there are a few academic works of history in print that attempt to untangle the knots of that seminal time period in Mexican history. The quality varies widely. Pancho Villa has emerged as the most discussed leader of the Mexican Revolution, at least in the writings of American authors. Emiliano Zapata has gotten less attention despite his status as a folk hero in Mexico, a symbol of inspiration for the lower classes, and the guy who used to be on the ten peso Mexican banknote. Samuel Brunk’s Emiliano Zapata: Revolution and Betrayal in Mexico serves the two purposes of telling the story from the angle of Zapata and dispelling the conventional interpretation that the Zapatista movement was strong because of its socially collective nature.

Initially the Mexican Revolution began as a reaction to the dictator Porfirio Diaz’s refusal to step down at the end of his term. The highly educated ideologue Francisco Madero started a rebellion in the northern state of Chihuahua with the intention of restoring democracy and enacting rule by constitutional law. The revolutionaries were subsequently called the Constitutionalists in opposition to the conservative, authoritarian Federalists or Federales in Spanish. Of course, Madero needed troops to fight the Federalist army, so volunteers from the peasantry were called up and led by Pascual Orozco and Pancho Villa. These troops had a separate agenda from Madero though. They were concerned with land reform since the hacienda system allowed for the stealing and selling of both public and private lands, thereby disinheriting many farmers from their livelihood and forcing them to survive as indentured servants. While Diaz rightfully deserves credit for bringing Mexico into the industrial age, his economic system led to the displacement and downward economic mobility of the lower classes. Through the leadership of Orozco and Villa, they believed that Madero would enact a program of land reform after seizing power in exchange for their support of his revolutionary movement.

The peasantry in the southern states had suffered a similar fate and when news of the rebellion in Chihuahua reached Morelos, a rebellion started independently there too. It was led by Emiliano Zapata, a leader who turned out to be a legitimate man of the people. He drew up his Plan of Ayala, a program for land reform that called for the return of stolen lands and the redistribution of hacienda property to ensure that farmers were allowed to own their own farms and the products of their own labor. The revolution started in the guise of guerilla warfare and the haciendas were seized along with the state of Morelos. Eventually they also seized the city of Puebla and marched on Mexico City to attack the National Palace.

After so much military success, Zapata realized that his revolution was too localized and had its limitations. One was that his army was made up of uneducated laborers and in order to pitch his revolution to people outside his sphere, he needed the attention of the educated classes. The first to be attracted to Zapata was Manuel Palafox, an engineering student who acted as spokesman and advocate for the Zapatistas. Later, a group of urban intellectuals, mainly communist and anarchist in orientation, became allies of the movement and worked to expose the revolutionaries to the wider society, mostly through the media. This is a point where Brunk’s version differs from those previously published. In earlier works on Zapata, the collective and egalitarian nature of the movement were emphasized, but Brunk points out that it was actually a made up of individuals, many with cross purposes to it and their own personal preoccupations. In fact, Brunk’s main argument is that ultimately Zapata’s revolution failed because it was ridden with conflicts. At the heart of all this was the intellectuals who eventually abandoned Zapata. They tried to use him for their own ends and he tried to use them for his own ends and eventually everything fell apart. One problem is that Zapata was actually a capitalist and the intellectuals weren’t. They tried to hijack the Zapatista movement which led to them being unable to coordinate their fighting with the Villistas in the north.

Other identifiable conflicts occurred between Zapata and his generals. Long range communications were difficult in that time and place, so commanders of guerilla bands located far from the center of command were largely on their own, only receiving sporadic communications by courier. There was a lot of competition for promotion in the ranks and conflicts were often solved with brutal violence rather than negotiation. Zapata’s revolution was made up of some rough people and some of them didn’t like taking orders from anybody. The chaotic nature of the organization didn’t help to sustain the revolution. Zapata also had trouble raising funds for weaponry and food for his troops. When they got desperate enough, some of them resorted to banditry, preying on the peasants they had sworn to defend. Eventually all these conflicts caused most supporters to abandon Zapata and the movement died.

Brunk identifies one other big problem. Emiliano Zapata, unlike most other leaders of the Mexican Revolution, was not motivated by personal ambition. He did not seek political office. His goal was to have the Plan of Ayala ratified by the government. After that he wished to return to a quiet life as a farmer. The problem is that the government had no interest in agrarian land reform so Zapata would have needed either to hold political office or work closely with someone who could push his program through congress. Unfortunately, you can’t win a revolution with an idea alone.

Despite giving an interesting counter-narrative to other existing literature on Emiliano Zapata, Brunk’s writing isn’t so great. He writes in long sentences that are loopy and vapid, sometimes being hard to follow. You could also criticize him for not going deeply enough into the life and character of Zapata. But if you want to get hung up on categories, it’s best to think of this as more of a history book than a biography. As far as his thesis goes, he supports his argument about the disharmony of the Zapatistas with abundant evidence so we can say that much of it is good. Really, the best part is the “Epilogue and Conclusion” chapter in which Brunk summarizes his argument and explains it all succinctly and clearly just in case you didn’t draw the right conclusions from the rest of the text. This is possibly one of the best conclusions I have ever read. It makes up for all the messy writing that comes before it.

Samuel Brunk’s account of Emiliano Zapata is interesting for its content even though his ability as a writer isn’t so great. History writers are notoriously bad at writing anyhow, although they are usually not nearly as bad as scientists when it comes to explicatory writing. If you’re interested in this aspect of Mexican history, this one is worth reading once. Otherwise keep in mind why Emiliano Zapata is important. He might have failed in his mission, but he remains a hero because he challenged the government in the name of uplifting the poorest laborers of his country. He brought awareness of the struggles suffered by farm workers into the national dialogue. These are the people who grow our food. Most people, including me, are too dumb to survive from subsistence farming alone. Without the farm workers we would mostly all die. They don’t deserve the contempt they get from the upper classes; they deserve to live good lives just like everybody else. The least you could do is say thanks. And then forget about Marlon Brando wearing brownface in the disappointing biopic Viva Zapata.