Mexico’s Turbulent History — The Porfiriato — Mike Ashe

[I had the privilege of traveling a number of times to Mexico on business, and look back to my visits there with fondness and respect. Mike’s posts have served to cause me to think on Mexico and the major shadow she casts — for good or ill — over most of Latin America’s history, including Venezuela. Thank you, Mike — RMB]

The Porfiriato (1876-1911)

Prelude and setting the stage

To properly set the stage for the Porfiriato, it is necessary to understand that Mexican politics was at times a blood sport. Persecution of liberals like Diaz and Juarez by the conservative leader Santa Anna forced Diaz into the mountains of Oaxaca and becoming an insurgent there, until Santa Anna was exiled to Cuba in 1855. Juarez, more a statesman than a warrior, fled to northern Mexico and New Orleans during this civil war.

Prior to Diaz, the government instability was very much the norm during the 19th century especially at the presidential level. It was so bad that at times there were three presidents in office at the same time. The first president, Guadalupe Victoria, lasted five years in office but most of his successors’ (mostly army generals) terms were one or two years.  The treasury was emptied out periodically most likely due to corruption at the top. Santa Anna was a colorful president but not a successful one. Juarez was the most consequential president before Diaz with a long list of accomplishments.

Diaz and Juarez were both from Oaxaca and both raised in poverty. Both studied for the priesthood and were friends even though their politics were at times in opposition. Diaz joined the army at the start of the Mexican-American war (1846-48) at age 15. He, like Juarez, studied law and rose to command the army during Juarez’s time in office.

Diaz had a brilliant military career including defeating the French on May 5, 1862. After defeating the French again in Puebla (1867) he resigned his commission and started his political career by condemning Juarez’s presidency. In 1870 he ran for president against Juarez and Lerdo de Tejada. Juarez won the election and Diaz called it a rigged election and called for a revolution which was later squelched by Juarez’s forces in 1872 just prior to Juarez’s death in that year. Lerdo assumed the presidency until 1876 when General Diaz defeated Lerdo’s forces at the Battle of Tecoac and occupied Mexico City. Lerdo was exiled in New York and Diaz became an interim president until his election in 1877.

The Porfiriato — First Term

His first order of business was to obtain US recognition of his presidency. Two stumbling blocks to recognition were 1) to stop Apache Raids from Mexico into the US, 2) resolving debt of $300,000 from the Lerdo Government. Diaz agreed to both and the presidency was recognized with a trip from US President Ulysses Grant to Mexico City.

The second order of business was to end armed conflict. This was achieved through the Paz Porfiriana. As a rigid liberal ideology, Díaz made peace with his opposition by supporting their rights to exist and financial incentives in support of their cause. It worked and there was relative peace for the first time in the Republic of Mexico.

The Porfiriato — Second Term

After his first term Diaz stepped down as president and his ardent supporter Manuel Gonzalez took over with Diaz in the background. Diaz took the time to forge greater relationships with US investors and politicians like Grant.

Manuel Gonzalez proved to be an inept and corrupt politician and was replaced by Diaz who amended the constitution to allow him to serve for another 26 years.

The Porfiriato — Subsequent terms lasting 26 years.

Those 26 years of authoritarian style produced a peaceful period which attracted foreign investments by selling Mexican influence for North American investments. The creation of an industrial infrastructure brought Mexico into the 20th century.

Mining and oil exploration was accelerated during this period. Railroads were built along with schools, and most needed infrastructure. Mexico was at that time considered an economic power along with Britain, Germany, and England.

The political facts are undisputed: he grabbed power by force when he lost a corrupt election, ran on a platform of no reelection. He then ran for reelection and kept power through corrupt elections. 

After declaring himself the winner of an eighth term as president, the country had had enough, triggering the Mexican Revolution with Francisco Madero as its president. 

[Francisco Madero had opposed him and been jailed for his trouble. He escaped from jail and fled to the United States from whence he orchestrated the Mexican Revolution. His strength was in the north of Mexico where he recruited Pancho Villa and Pascual Orozco as revolutionary leaders. Villa and Orozco soon demonstrated they would not submit to Madero, which caused no end of headaches. Díaz resigned soon after — RMB].  

Diaz was exiled to Paris and died 4 years later.

Many Mexicans call him a dictator; however, others, and there are many, consider Porfirio Diaz’s legacy as one that brought Mexico into the Industrial Age. The Revolutionary Propagandist had and continues to exaggerate Diaz shortcomings while ignoring his vast and consequential achievements. It’s time to bring his mortal remains to a resting place in Oaxaca where he belongs.

[I am happy to join Mike in this minority opinion. Diaz was a great man who, like all men, had his flaws. However, a hard look at his achievements for his country will demonstrate the vast progress made, along with the relative peace — both internal as well as international. He once exclaimed, “Poor Mexico! So far from God, so close to the United States!”. He thus expressed, in an incredibly concise nutshell, a major reality for our neighbors to the south. Nevertheless, under his administration, Mexico was on the gold standard and the Mexican peso was one of the world’s soundest currencies. He paid off Mexico’s creditors and balanced the budget for the first time in Mexico history — RMB]

Guadalupe Victoria, first president of the United Mexican States (1786-1843)
Porfirio Díaz (1830-1915)
With his wife, Doña Carmen, in exile in Paris, shortly before his death. His wife survived him for several decades, dying in 1944.

Fourth And Fifth of July: Declarations of Independence

Those who grew up in El Pao will remember celebrating both the Fourth and the Fifth of July, reflecting yet another similarity between the two countries. The American and Venezuelan holidays afforded an opportunity for executives to declare and affirm ongoing genuine friendship and a collaborative spirit between both peoples while we children looked forward to having our fathers home for a more extended time than usual, and also learning a bit more to understand and appreciate our liberties. I was fortunate to have had a father and mother who, as best they knew how, taught us appreciation and gratitude for America and also for Venezuela.

Venezuela history was a required subject in school. And a most frustrating one it was for me. For the life of me, I could not understand what the early 19th century fighting was about. My teachers seemed to tell stories assuming we students possessed presupposed knowledge as to why the revolutionaries rose against Madrid. But I had no such knowledge. My father had told me about the North American colonies and how they had a history of self-government and liberties and how England had begun taking those liberties away, even to the point of stationing mercenary troops in private homes where they abused and, in some cases, even defiled the mothers and daughters. 

Furthermore, the English parliament had decreed the assignment of Church of England bishops to the colonies: a last straw. I could see why folks would resist and seek to stop that, even if it meant overthrowing the rule of the English king. 

Although my mother and father taught me to respect and honor Venezuela, my teachers told no stories about Spain’s abuses against Venezuela. We heard much about concepts of liberty and fraternity and equality. However, all stratospheric disquisitions about intangible concepts did not satisfy me as to why the criollos rose against Madrid initially, let alone explain the eventual extermination of over one-third of their number. The entire country churned with violence and at the end had been practically depopulated. It was clear to me that the savagery and atrocities occurred not prior to, but during the Revolution. I do remember hearing a teacher quote the words uttered by Simón Bolivar as he approached death in the late 1820’s, “I have plowed in the sea….” And, “…those countries will infallibly fall into chaos and dictatorships….”

But why cast off Spanish rule for intangible concepts only to install tangibly cruel “chaos and dictatorships”? 

To read the July 4, 1776, and the July 5, 1811, declarations of independence back to back is an instructive exercise which might help explain why.

The Venezuelan is over 800 words longer and reflects allusions to French revolutionary thinking that is absent from the American. Consistent with the American, it also alludes to the Christian religion which sounds discordant if one has a basic understanding of Rousseau and the Declaration of the Rights of Man.

The Venezuelan opens by alluding to a former declaration (April 19, 1810) which was adopted as a result of Spain’s occupation by France. It goes on to complain about three centuries of suppressed rights and that recent political events in Europe had served to offer an opportunity to restore those rights. They then, following the 1776 Declaration, proceed to justify their actions.

The United States [American] declaration does not complain about 150 years of colonial rule. Rather it expresses concern that, when abuses make it necessary to dissolve long-standing political bands, that such action must be taken carefully and with strong justification. It expresses the need and the willingness to “suffer, while evils are sufferable” before abolishing government and relations to “which they are accustomed.”

I know this is simplistic, and historians will disagree, but to the layman, the 1811 comes across as willful, the 1776, as reluctant.

The longest body in each is the justification. The Venezuelan uses 1,156 words, beginning with another allusion to 300 years of Spanish rule and affirming that a people has a right to govern themselves. Then the author expresses a willingness to overlook those 300 years by “placing a veil” over them (“corriendo un velo sobre los trescientos años“) and proceeds to recent European events which had dissolved the Spanish nation. It goes at length criticizing the Spanish monarchy for its abandonment of her throne in favor of the French and how this state of affairs had left Venezuela without legal recourse (“dejándola sin el amparo y garantía de las leyes“). 

It asserts, furthermore, that the vast territories of the Americas with far more population than Spain itself cannot be governed from afar, etc. Here, the author presumes to speak for all the Spanish Americas. The layman is justified in wondering if this misdirection is inserted to remove attention from special pleading in the document that does not wholly stand up.

This section is not easy to follow today without some knowledge of the events current in 1811.

This was not a unanimous declaration; three provinces did not join, presaging the terrible bloodletting which was to follow.

For its justification, the American declaration uses 824 words (332 less than the Venezuelan), to list the abuses and their attempts to humbly address these legally only to have their attempts rebuffed. They make no allusions to 150 years of oppression or of unhappiness with their colonial status. They address only relatively recent abuses, including violence against life and property, mercenaries on their way to fight against them, war waged against them, threats to their religious liberty (the Quebec allusion), and much more. These are listed almost in bullet point format, but without the bullets, and are easy to understand, even 244 years later. It reads as if the document were a declaration of the right to self defense.

This was a unanimous declaration signed by representatives of each of the thirteen colonies.

In their conclusion, the Venezuelans, yet again, allude to centuries of oppression and their natural right to govern themselves. They assert they have a right to establish a government according to the general will (“voluntad general“) of her people.

It is hard to miss the influence of French revolutionary thinking in the Venezuelan document, despite allusions to a Supreme Being (“Ser Supremo”) and to Jesus Christ (“Jesucristo”). Its reference to the “General Will” is Rousseauean and is also found in the atheistic French Declaration of the Rights of Man

They also state they will defend their religion. 

The layman can’t help but be impressed by the schizophrenic nature of this document which contained appeals to atheistic revolutionary thinking then in vogue, while recognizing that the “regular folk” were still very religious and needed to hear allusions to religious fidelity.

The American conclusion appealed to the Supreme Judge of the world and in the name and authority of the people in the colonies they declared independence.

I know that professors delight in pointing out that Thomas Jefferson was the “author” of the American declaration and that he was not a Christian, etc.

However, one does not read the Virginia Fairfax Resolves (1774), or the Virginia Declaration of Rights (May, 1776), both of whose  primary author was George Mason, a Christian, nor does one read clergyman, John Wise, who in 1710 wrote, “Every man must be acknowledged equal to every man,” and “The end of all good government is to cultivate humanity and promote the happiness of all and the good of every man in all his rights, his life, liberty, estate, honor, and so forth…” and “Democracy is Christ’s government in church and state.” Jefferson drew from a rich, deep Christian well. According to President Calvin Coolidge, Jefferson himself “acknowledged that his ‘best ideas of democracy’ had been secured at church meetings.”

The American declaration was followed by seven more years of war whose official end was the Treaty of Paris in 1783 and a constitution, still in effect, whose final ratification was in 1790. The Venezuelan declaration was followed by nineteen years of wars (plural) characterized by unspeakable cruelties and tortures, including a proclamation of “war to the death” by Simón Bolivar. By their end in 1830, one third of Venezuela’s population had perished. These wars were followed by more wars and rebellions which continued to the end of the century. She’s had 27 constitutions.

In sum, the American hearkened to her Christian heritage and history; the Venezuelan, to French revolutionary atheism, most starkly demonstrated by yet another revolution, the Russian, in 1917. Both the American and the Venezuelan shed blood. But the latter, like the French, shed it more abundantly.

I love the United States of America and its history. I love her Christian heritage and her pioneers. She is a wonderfully great country with a people who will always pull at my heart. I also love Venezuela and the warmth and genuine friendship of her people. I am grateful the Good Lord has exposed me to both and shown me that, in Christ, our best days are yet ahead.

​Declaration of Independence – Text of the Declaration of Independence | Britannica

Text of the July 4, 1776 Declaration of Independence

Acta de la Declaración de Independencia de Venezuela – Wikipedia, la enciclopedia libre

Towards the bottom of article linked above, the reader will find the text of the July 5, 1811 Venezuela Declaration of Independence. It is in Spanish.

(Note: The above was first posted on July 4, 2020.)

Sr. Montaño

I barely remember him and, unfortunately, my mother’s memory of him is not better. But he should be remembered, even if only briefly.

He was the camp carpenter — both the Administrative (“American”) and the Labor (“Otro”) camps. 

And he did fine work with wood.

My early childhood years are roughly divided by la casa vieja and la casa nueva: “the old house” and “the new house”, meaning the house I lived in the first 6 plus years of life, and the house we moved to in 1960, after the birth of my second sister.

Mr. Montaño visited us in both houses, although I do not have specific recollections or anecdotes from “the old house” other than I remember seeing him there. And I do remember a bookcase that he built and which my sister bravely attempted to climb only to have the case fall on her. She was terribly frightened, but otherwise fine. At the time there were only a few books stored there, along with some photos and decorations. 

In “the new house” my memories are a tad sharper.

“Remember to touch the electric appliance with the back of the hand, like so. Should you get shocked, you’ll easily move the hand away instead of inadvertently grasping the machine and prolonging the shock.” I’ve never forgotten that advice which he gave my mother as she asked whether he could take a look at the washing machine because for some reason everyone who touched it got shocked. I just watched and did not wonder about a carpenter being asked about electric matters.

Back then folks knew much about their field and quite a bit about just about everything else that helped with our daily lives.

“Here’s the queso de mano, Sra. Adita.” He lived on the carretera de Caruachi (the road to Caruachi) and somewhere in his neck of the woods was a lady who made the best queso de mano cheese I ever tasted. I know, childhood memories are notoriously deceiving, but let me enjoy the memory! It was great. And I’ve never tasted the like since.

My parents commissioned him to build a vinyl record storage piece of furniture. I remember the day he delivered it but did not appreciate the work done until many years later. We used it not only in El Pao, but also in Georgia where my parents had it shipped after leaving Venezuela. It is still in my mother’s house outside Atlanta, and I admire it every time I visit.

He was gentlemanly and proper and methodical. His Spanish was that of an educated man. I enjoyed his company.

I do not recall the circumstances of Mr. Montaño’s death. Only that it was a shock to us all, even small children. He was beloved. 

May he rest in peace.

The vinyl storage furniture is seen in the background, behind my sisters, Brenda (left) and Elaine (right).
The lamp was fashioned and preserved from a branch my father picked up from a shore of the Orinoco River.
The vinyl storage is on the right. In the foreground are the Correa children, childhood friends from Fairburn, Georgia, circa 1979. In background, my sister, Elaine is seated on the left, my brother, Ronald, is in the center, and my sister, Brenda, on the right.
Queso de mano (“Cheese of the Hand”)
My father, Charles M. Barnes, not far from Caruachi, circa 1952.

Rainy Days

Rainy days in the mining camp are cherished memories and I suspect they are so for many of my contemporaries. Put another way, rainy days did not get me down. (Although, every once in a while, Mondays did.)

Of course, the rains I witnessed in Hurricanes Donna, Cleo, Maria, and others were extraordinary and Texas rains that come with some spring seasons are dangerously intense. Nevertheless, the curtains of water that fell during every rainy season in El Pao made a lifelong impression on the memory banks of my childhood (Memory).

The rainy season ran roughly from May through November, with crashing rains especially concentrated in June, July, and August, which overwhelmed more than half the days of the month. I’ve been told that El Pao’s rainy season more or less paralleled that of South Vietnam’s monsoon season. If so, that explains how landscape photos or films of that part of Venezuela can be easily confused with similar scenes of Southeast Asia.

For example, after watching The Ugly American, my father’s first comment was how much the landscape in the movie looked like our area of Venezuela. Of course, this was a Hollywood film; however, Thailand landscape around Bangkok provided the background sceneries and some scenes were actually shot there, because they very much looked like South Vietnam.

A former colleague had served in the Vietnam War and when he visited our property in Puerto Rico, which looks like the regions around El Pao, he walked to the edge of our ridge and stood silently for several minutes. Later, as we drove back to town, he merely said, “This looks like South Vietnam.” 

This might explain why I became so attracted to Singapore whenever I visited on business less than a decade ago. Unlike southern Vietnam and El Pao, Singapore has two monsoon seasons. One of them runs from June to September, which is roughly parallel to El Pao’s. The rains, her lush, abundant jungle foliage, the green which predominates, and the tropical climate surely were major factors for my remembering my visits there with fondness.

Vietnam, Thailand, Singapore, Puerto Rico, El Pao. In my child’s memory, I do not think of war and devastation. Just rains and green and beauty.

Monsoon rain in Singapore
Monsoon rain in Ho Chi Min City (formerly Saigon) 
Rainy season in Venezuela
Scene from The Ugly American
Approaching rains in Puerto Rico

Leaving Venezuela — Mike Ashe

In response to my prior post (Leaving Venezuela — 1966) my friend, Mike Ashe, emailed me his own take about the same subject, as he also left at an early age.

I appreciated his recollections and thoughts and asked his permission to post, which he generously granted.

Hi Richard

I guess if we kids stayed in El Pao long enough, we ended up going solo to schooling elsewhere.

My dad left by train at age 14 traveling from Chuqicamata, Chile, to a high school in Buenos Aires. The Chilean Rail Line ran from Arica to La Paz. I don’t think that the train stopped in Chuqui; they had to flag the train down to board. 

He would travel by train to Santiago and by taxi to Cordoba and take a train to Buenos Aires.

My grandpa worked for Anaconda Copper and spent 40 years in mining camps in Chile and Mexico.

In my case I shipped out at age 12 and spent two years at Admiral Farragut Academy. I did go back home to El Pao one summer. Holidays were spent in the school dorm or visiting friends

In those days there was no communication except by mail which most of the time was late or lost in transit.

A lot of my classmates were from South America so I had plenty of company that could relate.  Also, I must say that my El Pao education served me well in transitioning into a different educational system. Admiral Farragut was a top-notch military school with high academics and an over-the-top discipline standard. 

Seventy five percent of the graduates received appointments to the US Naval Academy, Annapolis Md.  The most notable Farragut graduates are Astronauts Charles Duke and the first US Astronaut in space, Alan Shepard.

Actually, getting out of El Pao was a good thing since boarding school provided me with an opportunity to socialize with many boys from different backgrounds around my age.  Cubans (great athletes), Colombians, a few Brazilians, and mostly US students.

The transition from being the oldest two or three boys in a mining camp to a school with hundreds of students mostly older and a lot more worldly, was bracing. 

I was fortunate to have Chuck Gould as my roommate for two years (Chuck later played football at Michigan State).  Chuck actually became my best friend, and nobody messed with Chuck. Or his friend!  At age 13 he weighed over 200lbs and could outrun anyone in the Junior or Senior school including some exceptionally fast Cubans.

I did miss my family and El Pao but can honestly say that life was a great adventure for me in Florida.  I was able to play sports for the first time. It was a great awakening for me.  So grateful to have been provided that opportunity.

Also, both of my brothers spent their high school years in boarding schools Linsly Military School in Wheeling, WV. They also felt that going solo provided them with some great opportunities that they would not have had if they had remained in Mexico.

Really enjoy Pull of the Land

Take care

Mike

Panoramic View of Chuquicamata at 9,850 ft above sea level in the Atacama Desert (driest desert on earth).  Mining of gold and copper started in 1882.  My grandfather (Mike Ashe), an electrician on the New York subway system, accepted a job there in 1923 as an electrician working in the power plant. My dad was born in Harlem, New York his sister and brother were both born in Chuqui.  In 1943 my grandfather accepted a transfer to another mining camp in Cananea, Mexico, also located in the Sonora Desert.  The Cananea mine is the second deepest open pit mine in the world at 2,790 ft.  The Bingham Mine in Salt Lake City is the deepest; both are copper mines.  When I was working, I would fly into Salt Lake and never got tired of seeing Bingham from the air.