Prelude To The Cristiada I

“To understand the Mexican situation it must be understood in the beginning that the present is more or less the normal condition of Mexico; the era of peace during the Díaz regime from 1876 to 1910 was an abnormal period in the [post-colonial] history of that country. All revolutions in Mexico work along conventional lines and the present series of revolutions are in no material sense different from those that beset the country from 1810 to 1876; the abnormal element of the present series of revolutions is the active participation in them by the American Government [emphasis mine].” — William F. Buckley, Sr., testimony before the House Committee on Foreign Relations, December 6, 1919 (7 years before the major outbreak of the Cristiada)

Mike Ashe will soon be posting on the unjustly memory-holed Mexican Cristiada or Cristeros War of the early 20th Century.

However, events do not simply “occur” by spontaneous generation or by a sudden explosion of sentiment or rebellion. There are leaders and, more importantly, philosophies that have taken root or to which key elements of society have submitted, which in turn can lead a culture or civilization to heights of achievement or depths of torment and depravity. 

To better grasp the immensity and the nature of the calamity which befell Mexico and, by extension, the United States, in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, it is worthwhile — and necessary — to take a moment to review what went before.

1810 — We begin with a brief allusion to 1810, which is the date usually associated with the initiation of Mexico’s independence from Spain. Invariably, historians generalize with comments such as, “revolt against a large reserve of resentment” or “the pressure cooker finally exploded” and more such terminology. This is found in scholarly as well as popular, Wikipedia type essays.

However, the first thing one must notice about the date, 1810, is that it is barely two decades after the storming of the Bastille and the ensuing French Revolution, which Lenin, a century later, criticized because the Jacobins stopped the terror, something he (Lenin) was determined not to do. And his disciple, Stalin, agreed and fully proved his devotion to Lenin’s counsel. Even after tens of millions of deaths later, large swathes of American colleges and elites indulge their love affair with the French Revolution and its Communist progeny.

Clarence B. Carson wrote, “What particularly intrigued revolutionary socialists, Karl Marx among them, about the French Revolution was the drastic changes it made in the lives and ways of a people. It demonstrated, at least for them, in embryo form, the potentialities for changing man and men in society by revolution…. In sum to … totally reconstruct society.”

With that background, let us briefly consider what happened in 1810 when “Father Hidalgo” allegedly shouted his call for independence from Spain. “During the siege of Guanajuato, his followers captured the city granary in which nearly five hundred Spaniards and criollos [descendants of Spaniards] had taken refuge, many of them women and children. The massacre that followed shocked [all] throughout Mexico….” This event, and others like it, identify the atrocities in Mexico with those in France and with the rest of South America and the Caribbean, as witness Haiti and Venezuela.

In other words, Mexico and Hidalgo were no different than Venezuela and Bolivar and the denouement of each is unsurprisingly similar: massacres, rapes of women, girls, and boys, cold blooded murders of prisoners, invalids, hospital patients, and other defenseless men and women, blighted fields, mines and manufactures burned and buried, homes and offices delivered to pillage, and much more.

In my childhood and youth I invariably heard comments expressing alarm or marvel at the alleged Spanish propensity for cruelty and pillage as seen in the Spanish colonies’ 19th century revolutions. Well, in the first place, a propensity to evil is in all men; however, more importantly, what those comments alluded to were acts that were totally alien to the Spanish colonies. To see such acts in Europe, one would have to visit revolutionary France, not Spain. It is truly a wonder how France and its nefarious, hateful Jacobin ideology gets a free pass.

Just as it can be mystifying to contemplate today’s college professors and their benighted students’ dangerous infatuation with modern Jacobinism, including an overriding hatred of Christianity. 

This explains Mr. Buckley’s comments on Mexican revolutions from 1810 to 1876 quoted above.

1876 – 1911 — This was the “Porfiriato” the rule of Porfirio Díaz. As alluded to in Mr. Buckley’s testimony (see quote above), this was a time of post-colonial peace and order not seen before or since. 

The Cristero period, which officially began in 1926 under the Plutarco Calles administration, was actually sown in 1911 with the Francisco Madero administration. Madero was opposed to Christianity, or at least any ecclesiastical manifestation of it. He was deposed and allegedly murdered in 1913.

But we must briefly consider how Francisco Madero became president of Mexico.

Madero had launched a revolution from San Antonio, Texas, declaring himself president in November, 1910. Men such as Pancho Villa and Pascual Orozco rallied to him in northern Mexico, creating and fomenting turmoil and mayhem, which eventually culminated in the resignation of Porfirio Díaz in May, 1911, who sincerely wished to avoid further bloodshed.

Francisco Madero was elected president in October, 1911, hailed as the “apostle of democracy”. However, discontent with his administration set in almost immediately and rebel factions erupted throughout Mexico. For example, Zapata rebelled against Madero in November, 1911, barely a month after the elections.

Similar to like men in politics today, Madero was an aristocrat, having been schooled by private tutors in Paris and in the United States. He had little in common with the peon classes that he waxed lyrical about. He had promised everything to everyone and therefore pleased no one.

More worrisome, disorder and lawlessness were such that the Mexican ambassador to the United States resigned in December, 1912, saying, “I lied to the American government for ten months telling them that the Mexican revolution would be over in six weeks…. The truth is that the situation is desperate.”

General Victoriano Huerta was a soldier and natural leader. His drinking was legendary — think Ulysses S. Grant. One example of his fearlessness occurred in Cuernavaca. He was in a hotel when a group passed in the street shouting, “Death to Huerta!” The General “heard the cry, got up, and walked to the door — alone, ‘Here is Huerta,’ he said. ‘Who wants him?'” 

General Huerta had been a loyal and dedicated soldier, having fought under three presidents: Porfirio Díaz, Francisco de la Barra (interim president between Díaz and Madero), and Francisco Madero. In over 40 years of service, he had applied for only two leaves. 

After putting down multiple rebellions against Madero, General Huerta was once again called upon to defeat yet another insurrection in Mexico City, in February, 1913. It was during this event that he decided to work to depose President Madero. He saw that lawlessness persisted in Mexico and lives and properties of citizens as well as foreigners were continually in danger. The fighting in Mexico City was frightful but is beyond the scope of this post.

Suffice it to say that the government forces were defeated after much property damage and human carnage. Americans as well as diplomats from other nations flocked to the American embassy for shelter. The ambassador demanded that all combatants respect American rights. The patience of the ambassador, Henry Lane Wilson (no relation to Woodrow Wilson, who was to be inaugurated as president in March, 1913) was exhausted and he worked to seek a permanent solution that would protect American and foreign interests and people in Mexico, believing that would also protect the Mexican people.

“This situation is intolerable … I am going to bring order,” declared the ambassador, who then worked with British, Spanish, and German ministers, whose countries had the largest colonies in Mexico City. In addition, twenty-five Mexican senators urged President Madero to resign. Madero rebuffed all approaches.

Concurrently, General Huerta was completing his preparations for a coup which took place February 18, 1913. At 5:10 P. M., the cathedral bells sounded and a large crowd assembled. The people “wildly cheered” Huerta and a general air of celebration prevailed. American newspapers reported that President Taft and his cabinet showed “great relief”.

There were many delicate negotiations between the factions which are beyond the scope of this post. In sum, negotiations were concluded but General Huerta refused to declare himself president. He wished to follow constitutional norms. While Madero was prisoner, he was technically still the president, since he had not resigned. 

Huerta, although “in de facto control, cooperated with Congress and the Foreign Minister to secure legal title to the presidency.” He requested Congress to convene and expressed a desire to “place himself in accord with the National Representation” to “find a legal solution” to the crisis.

On February 19 Francisco Madero signed his resignation, which was submitted to the Congress later that morning. The Congress, which had a Maderista majority, accepted the resignation by an overwhelming vote and at 11:15 A. M. the Congress confirmed Huerta as constitutional president by a vote of 126-0. 

Thus Huerta assumed the presidency not at the time of the coup, but upon the resignation of Madero and the vote of the Congress, in accordance with Mexico’s constitution at the time. 

Turmoil still persisted as several factions refused to recognize Huerta or even the Congress. Added to the tensions were rumors of Madero’s ambitions to foment yet another revolution akin to his actions against Porfirio Díaz in 1910.

On February 22, 1913, after 10 P. M. Francisco Madero and the former vice president, José María Pino Suárez, were shot as they were being transferred from the presidential palace to the penitentiary. There were several “versions” purporting to explain the assassinations, including that relatives of persons killed on orders of Madero’s government attacked the convoy transporting the prisoners. However, there is general agreement that, at the least, President Huerta should have taken more serious precautions to protect Madero. Of course, the most accepted version is that Huerta’s cabinet, including Huerta, ordered the shooting.

Whatever the truth, the fact of repercussions became clear upon the inauguration of President Woodrow Wilson, whose actions led directly to the Cristiada.

(To be continued)

Expected to be released in March, 2023. Pictured: William F. Buckley Sr. (1881-1958)
Francisco Madero (1873-1913)
Ambassador Henry Lane Wilson (1857-1932)
Victoriano Huerta (1854-1916)

War to the Death

I had promised to write about Simón Bolívar off and on, because “it is simply impossible to consider Venezuela … without grappling with Bolívar ….”

Bolívar possessed attributes that are worthy of admiration and imitation. But we must recognize that he also encompassed much that is not so worthy. Horribly so.

One fact we must deal with is his utter, dispassionate cruelty documented in contemporary journals and letters, including some in Bolívar’s own hand.

This post addresses Bolívar’s War to the Death Decree (Decreto de Guerra a Muerte) [Decreto]. This decree and the resulting bloodbath has to be addressed by Bolívar’s many admiring biographers and Venezuelan textbooks because it is simply too well known to be ignored. As I grew up in Venezuela I accepted at face value that the Decreto was issued in reaction to a “war to the death” on the part of the Spaniards.

That explanation was easy to accept given the Lascasian view of Spain so prevalent, even to this day, in South and North America (Bolivar). In addition, the unbelievably horrible depredations of “royalist” José Tomás Bove are well documented (Bove) and certainly help explain how a furious Bolívar might react with his own sanguinary actions.

However, a cursory review of the timelines and some additional study of easily-available documents — Bove’s actions took place after the Decreto and Bove was loyal to no one but his marauding, killer hordes; so much so that the Spaniards had moved to depose him — clearly show that Bolívar could not have used Bove as justification. Indeed, Bove’s name appears nowhere in the Decreto. How could it? He was practically an unknown at the time it was promulgated.

To understand the genesis of the Decreto, one need only consider the genesis of the South American wars for independence: The French Revolution (Bastille).

The Caribbean had already seen a “War To the Death”. It took place in Haiti, a nation which today shares an island with the Dominican Republic and which has never fully recovered from its own decree.

Bolívar’s Decreto was an adoption of the Haitian revolutionary model which had declared a “war to the death” on the French. To be clear: this was a decree calling on all inhabitants to “exterminate” every single French or European man, woman, and child on the island. 

Jean-Jacques Dessalines, as bloodthirsty a man as has ever lived, succeeded in ridding Haiti of the French. He and his troops entered villages, encouraging the people to go to their churches to ensure their and their children’s safety. He and his men would then proceed to bayonet, decapitate, eviscerate, and otherwise torture the French, careful to leave the women and children for last for rape and abuse. In his presence, his troops burned at least one priest alive because the cleric dared to denounce Dessalines’s actions as Satanic.

Whenever you read or hear hagiographies of Jean-Jacque Rousseau , always remember: by their fruit ye shall know them. One fruit is his namesake, Jean-Jacques Dessalines, who, in 1806, was brutally murdered and dismembered.

In 1804, Dessalines proclaimed himself Jacques I, Emperor of Haiti. He died a mere two years later, but not before he received the great Venezuelan, Francisco de Miranda. In that audience, Dessalines urged Miranda to do as he had done: proclaim a war of extermination on the Spaniards and Europeans. Miranda, to his eternal credit, declined to do so.

However, less than a decade later, Bolívar did take the advice and in 1812 the Decreto was drafted although formally proclaimed in June, 1813. Nevertheless, ever the man of action, Bolívar had previously ordered his men to kill without quarter and to incarcerate those who were not in uniform. In his letter to the congress in Nueva Granada, he wrote that he had traversed lands, cities, and towns, “where all Europeans and Canarios without exception were executed.”

And how were they executed? 

The gory events in Caracas and La Guaira, where his loyal commander, Juan Bautista Arismendi, murdered 886 prisoners who had languished in execrable conditions for a year, provides an answer. They were pulled out of jail and summarily shot. He then ordered between 500 and 1,000 sick and disabled from hospitals and, to save powder, had them beaten to death with clubs and boards. The coup de grâce was by means of large rocks crushing the heads of the dying. He then ordered ladies to be dressed in white and dance among the bloody bodies as they awaited the rapine of Arismendi’s men.

Bolívar wrote about this to the Congress in Nueva Granada.

In a letter written a month before his death in December, 1830, Bolívar wrote:

“1. America is ungovernable, 2. he who serves a revolution, plows the sea, 3. the only thing one can do in America is emigrate, 4. this land will fall into the hands of an unbridled multitude who will then fall under petty tyrants of all colors and races 5. from which the Europeans will not deign to rescue us. 6. If it were possible for an area of the world to return to primitive chaos, this would be America.”

Despite his care about his physical appearance, Bolívar was one of the least self-aware men in history, never acknowledging his own role in thrusting great portions of South America into chaos.

A Venezuelan historian writes:

“Bolívar’s vocation was equivocal, his character mercurial. He proclaimed liberty and imposed tyranny. He praised civility and waged terror. He exalted fraternity and encouraged fratricide. He revered Spanish-American unity, but his wars destroyed the institutions that would have preserved it … Of that grand civilization that had successfully functioned for centuries, only the memory remained in a continent of men in conflict with men in the name of ghostly principles.”

One reason it is necessary to know one’s history is because that helps to understand how one got to the present and what path to trace towards the future. Venezuelans are no different than Americans in that they too seek peace and unity — not uniformity, but unity. In the United States that unity is achievable by a return to our traditions, which are not difficult to discern. Sources such as Bradford’s Journal, the Mayflower Compact, the Christian bases of our  colonial governments, Washington’s Farewell Address, and more speak to us today.

In the case of Venezuela, her traditions, although a bit more difficult to discern, can be re-discovered with the removal of several generations of accumulated underbrush, including the hagiography bathing Simón Bolívar. One can begin with Bolívar’s own lament about “centuries of civilization” having been destroyed by his wars. What was that civilization? Can its foundations be rediscovered and improved?

I think they can.

Jean-Jacques Dessalines, Emperor of Haiti (1758-1806). Enraged by a priest who classified his slaughterhouse actions as “Satanic”, he ordered his men to burn the priest alive as he watched.
Engraving (1806) illustrating Dessalines holding the severed head of a French woman. He was murdered that same year. 
Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778). He loved children. Except his own — he left 4 or 5 in foundling homes because he refused to care for them. Yet he insisted on telling the rest of us how to live. And his philosophy is very much with us today. By their fruit ye shall know them.
Francisco de Miranda (1750-1816). Before Bolivar, he sought independence from Spain, but not for the same revolutionary reasons. Miranda lived in the United States and met George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, Samuel Adams, and Thomas Jefferson, among others. A soldier, statesman, scholar. He was betrayed by Bolivar, handed to the Spanish, and died in exile in Spain, aged 66. The portrait is by Martin Tovar y Tovar, a famous Venezuelan painter.
Sketch of Simón Bolívar made from life by José María Espinoza in 1830, his final year.