Historians differ over the meaning of the Platt amendment for Cuban independence. Their views upon this subject have relevance not only for other historians but for those who may be interested in the use of power by the United States in world affairs. The historical literature of the Platt amendment depicts the clash between the security and self-determination interests of the United States and Cuba, and provides an instructive phase of the continuing Cuban question that has intermittently agitated public opinion from the days of Thomas Jefferson to those of Fidel Castro.

One of the most important native industries in New Spain, allowed to flourish because of its rational necessity, and given exemptions from restrictive mercantile prohibitions was the obraje, or colonial textile factory. This institution had its origins in the tribute and labor policies of the quasi-feudal economic system imposed by the Spaniard in the decades after the conquests in the Caribbean and on the American mainland. For almost three hundred years clerics and humanitarians protested, viceroys raged, monarchs threatened, a plethora of regulations was issued, inspections were conducted, trials held, fines levied, obrajes were closed, and yet the obraje as an institution survived, and the inhuman conditions of the worker remained unchanged. While the Mexican encomienda system was being shorn of its abuses and gradually deemphasized by the crown, and while the repartimiento system of forced labor for wages was subordinated to a policy of conservation of human resources in the face of a shortage of Indian labor, the Mexican colony was becoming each decade more dependent on the locally-produced textiles, especially the commercial, non-luxury fabrics in everyday use. These were produced in the obrajes.

The System of tithe collection in operation in the Archbishopric of Mexico at the beginning of the nineteenth century was the result of a gradual process of change and development throughout the colonial period. In the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, the responsibility for the collection and distribution of the tithes had rested both with the Church and the viceregal authorities. However, as soon as the yield was thought to be sufficient to maintain the diocese without royal subsidy, the Church was left to organize the collection. The territory covered by the see was divided into a number of areas and the right to levy tithes within these was auctioned to the highest bidder. This method was only allowed in respect of the tithes paid by the Spaniards and mestizos, for those of the Indians had to be collected directly. This latter collection was carried out on behalf of the Church by two canons who were given the title of Jueces Hacedores. Soon the Church began to extend the system of direct collection and the areas that were farmed out became fewer and fewer until finally the last one was abolished in 1782. As the revenue increased with the development of the colony, an administrative organization was evolved.

Elihu Root, Secretary of State from 1905 to 1909 under President Theodore Roosevelt, ranks as one of the most successful secretaries in dealing with Latin America before the coming of the Good Neighbor policy. His approach, the product of a practical statesman in a period of growing reaction to diplomatic adventure, concerned the means rather than the ends of inter-American relations. While the Secretary did not renounce the role of hemispheric policeman proclaimed by President Roosevelt in 1904, he did attempt to stress the benevolent character of America’s Caribbean interests and to sub-ordinate the policing aspect. Root held a special concern for Latin America and labored assiduously to improve relations and to promote the solidarity of the Western Hemisphere. When the Secretary retired in 1909 he bequeathed his successor a legacy of kindly feeling that he had successfully cultivated.

The American republics, for the sake of their own reputation and credit—if not for other humanitarian and altruistic considerations —“ought to intervene indirectly in the internal dissensions of the continent. Such intervention might consist, at the least, in the denial of recognition to de facto governments springing from revolution against the constitutional order.” Carlos Tobar, ex-foreign minister of Ecuador and the author of these views, thus expressed his concern over the problem of political instability in early twentieth-century Latin America. Constant revolutions and civil warfare he considered the curse of the region and the principal barrier to economic and social progress. His remedy was to put the combined diplomatic weight of all American nations against revolutionary governments, believing that such intervention would remove new, unconstitutional governments from power, and that, eventually, dissatisfied political factions in Latin America would give up their customary resort to violence. This pre-Wilsonian doctrine of legitimacy—known as the Tobar Doctrine—elicited little favorable response from Latin America’s leaders, already wary of any precept which could be used as justification for foreign interference in internal matters. Because Tobar’s anti-revolutionary entreaty ran directly counter to Latin American thought, it appeared headed for oblivion, except for a desperate situation in Central America in the first years of the twentieth century.

Few Countries have so consistently captured the interest of writers as Mexico; and in the writing of their reflections and observations, historians and literary people have accentuated their own opinions of what the religious crisis of 1926-1930 was. The purpose of this article is to present the attitude of the United States government toward that internal conflict in Mexico; and to stress the policy of unofficial intervention that resulted. The period that we have selected is one of explosive relations between church and state. The figures who dominate the Mexican scene are Plutarco Elias Calles who was president of Mexico from 1924 to 1928; and Emilio Portes Gil, who was interim president of Mexico from 1928 to February 4, 1930, and completely under the policy determination of Calles. During this period we have two Secretaries of State who fashioned United States policy: Frank B. Kellogg (1925-1929) and Henry L. Stimson (1929-1933); but the designers of policy in the field were James Rockwell Sheffield (1924-1927) and Dwight W. Morrow (1927-1930).

During the first three hundred years of its existence, Brazil had no opportunity to develop its potential natural resources for the benefit of its inhabitants. Portugal, Brazil’s mother country, exploited the colony as a source of wealth for itself and did not administer it for the purpose of creating a sound economic structure for the good of Brazil. Its foreign commerce was a Crown monopoly until 1808. During this colonial period, easily exploited minerals and those crops which would command quick, lucrative profits on the world market, were stressed by Portuguese administrators. Thus, early in its history, the disastrous seeds of monoculture were sown in Brazil. These products were taken to Lisbon, which served as a jobbing center for the Empire, and from there they were distributed by vessel to other countries. Large-scale industry was discouraged by Portugal, and in some instances, actually forbidden. In this, Portugal was following the general colonial policy common to many European nations during that period. Characteristic of the Portuguese attitude was Queen Maria’s order in 1785 for the destruction of all industries and factories in Brazil that were not devoted to the production of sugar; a product from which Portugal at this time derived much of its national income. In return for the lucrative slave crops of sugar and cotton, the colony was forced to buy expensive finished goods from the mother country. The exchange profited Portugal greatly and strangled Brazil economically.

Some years ago during one of the periodic crises which characterize Inter-American relations, a New York Times analyst concluded that it was almost impossible to obtain unanimity in this country on Latin American policy. With some reluctance the writer added that it was also impossible to make any policy of the United States liked “ down there.” Certainly the “ Platt ” Amendment of 1901 was one of the most controversial hemispheric policies ever formulated by the United States. Later embodied in the so-called Permanent Treaty with Cuba (1903–1934), it has evoked a wide range of praise and vilification. Yet even a cursory analysis of the extensive literature relating to this significant measure reveals serious misunderstanding concerning it.

The Primary purpose for the creation of the Pan American Federation of Labor was to foster the development of trade-unionism in Latin America. But from its inception at Laredo in 1918 until 1927, when the fifth and last congress was held, autonomous trade-unionism became a secondary endeavor. Uppermost for Samuel Gompers and his associates in the AFL was the effort to deal with problems largely political in character.

After The Fall of Tenochtitlán in 1521, the focus of Spanish attention was quickly shifted to the peripheral areas of New Spain. One of such areas, variously known in colonial times as Panuco, the Huasteca, or Vitoria Garayana, was conquered by Cortés in late 1522 or early 1523. In the spring of 1523 the Conqueror founded the villa of Santisteban del Puerto on the Panuco River; granted encomiendas to some one hundred Spaniards; and returned to Mexico City. Despite an early challenge by Francisco de Garay, the governor of Jamaica, Pánuco was administered by Cortés or the royal treasury officials of New Spain until May, 1527. At this time the crown appointee, Nuño Beltrán de Guzmán, arrived in the province with the title of Governor of Panuco which he held until the last months of 1533. In the pages that follow, an attempt will be made to present evidence relating to a decade of slaving in Panuco. This will involve the activities of both Cortés and Guzmán, as well as some traditional accounts relating to the topic. The author wishes to state at the outset that he is neither defending nor prosecuting the moral issue of Indian slavery.

Several of the key problems of the Third Mexican Council are better understood and partially solved by a study of the Vatican documents. This important ecclesiastical gathering was the first in Mexico to take into serious consideration the decrees of the Council of Trent. It had held its first sessions in Mexico City from January 20 to October 20, 1585. Its acts and statutes were written in Spanish; in order to secure papal approbation a Latin translation was made of both by Father Pedro Ortigosa, S. J., the Mexican Archbishop’s personal theologian and prominent participant at the Council.

Juan Bautista Alberdi belonged to a generation of Argentines fervently dedicated to the ideal of lifting the Río de la Plata out of the internal chaos which had delayed national consolidation and economic growth since the time of independence. In his Bases y puntos de partida para la organización política de la república argentina, published in 1852, Alberdi asserted that only the railroad could effect the long awaited unification of the Argentine people. He stated: “Without the railroad political unity cannot be had in a country where distance makes central political power impossible.” “Political unity,” Alberdi added, “can only be begun through territorial unity, and only the railroad can make places separated by five hundred leagues a unified country.”

The Zimmermann telegram of 1917, the attempt of the German government to bring Mexico into World War I on the side of the Central Powers, is a well-known diplomatic episode because it is generally conceded to be one of the series of factors which convinced President Woodrow Wilson of the efficacy of abandoning his policy of neutrality. In return for her co-operation, and upon the successful conclusion of the war, Mexico was to “recover the lost territory in Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona.” On March 1, 1917, when the incident was recorded in the United States press and before either the State Department or the White House issued a confirmation or a denial, many congressmen and a good percentage of the United States public considered the note to be a brazen forgery and a great hoax. Had they realized that Foreign Minister Arthur Zimmermann’s proposal to Venustiano Carranza was not a bold and newly devised scheme but rather the climax of several years of intrigue with various Mexican officials and exile groups and had they been aware that the idea of restoring the territory lost in the middle of the nineteenth century was a Mexican rather than a German idea, there would have been but little reason to dispute the validity of the document in question.

One of the key policies guiding the regime of General Porfirio Díaz during its rule over an underdeveloped Mexico between 1877 and 1911 was to invite foreign participation in Mexico’s economic activities. At that very moment in history a rapidly industrializing Germany was anxious to find new economic opportunities in less advanced nations. German private entrepreneurs in Mexico could easily exploit both of these trends. A study of their fortunes suggests that commercial and industrial representatives of an economically advanced nation can earn the respect and personal friendship of citizens of a less developed country. This relationship was readily manifested because the Mexicans did not fear or resent German entrepreneurs since the German influence was large and tactful enough to be useful but small enough not to constitute a menace. There was no great possibility of a large influx of Germans into Mexico, because, by contrast to the opportunities enjoyed by German businessmen, Mexico’s latifundia system continued to limit German participation in Mexican agriculture to a few plantation owners. German professional people and workers avoided Mexico because of the depressed conditions that faced members of their calling there. Cautious German investors, afraid that Mexico’s political and economic stability might not last, limited themselves to extending occasional loans to the Mexican Government or to investments in Mexican private enterprises in conjunction with other foreigners, especially Americans.

Whatever history may record about his personal life, there is no denying that Pope Alexander VI was among the most efficient and far-sighted of the Church’s long list of vicars. Perhaps nowhere is this fact more obvious than in the pontiff’s concern and zeal for the missions. In a decree addressed to Ferdinand and Isabella, issued at Rome on May 4, 1493, the pope stated, in part:

With this and subsequent papal mandates, the Spanish monarchs inaugurated the Christianization and colonization of the New World.

When Expelling the Jesuits from his realm in 1767, Charles III of Spain explained this extraordinary measure in only vague and mysterious terms. He said he was “moved by weighty reasons, conscious of his duty to uphold obedience, tranquility and justice among his people, and (was also acting) for other urgent, just, and compelling causes, which he was locking away in his royal breast.” Furthermore, the first part of the report of the committee preparing the expulsion, the Extraordinary Council of Castile, a report which must have contained the motivation, has been missing since at least 1815. The whole history of the expulsion has thus been shrouded in an air of mystery. Historians have not been satisfied with pointing to possible Jesuit implication in the so-called “Hat and Cloak Riots ” of 1766, which caused the Extraordinary Council to be set up to undertake the inquiry that less than a year later produced the royal decision to expel the Jesuits. Instead, they have suggested other explanations according to their gift of imagination and their religio-political orientation. Several theories of “conspiracy ” have been advanced. Either the Freemasons, impious Voltairians or the manteistas, that is, intellectuals of poor background, supposedly resentful of the snobbism of Jesuit education, have been held responsible for such “conspiracies ” against the Jesuits. Important documentation from the Extraordinary Council, which almost compensates for the lost piece, has been easily available since the 1890’s.

Shortly after 1546 someone in Mexico was reading a book recently published at the instance of Bishop Juan de Zumárraga. The book was one of the first dozen published in the New World. As he read he occasionally made annotations in the margin. At one place he wrote: “Constantino.” Further on he put: “Constantino es este y no Zumárraga.” At the end of the book he summed up his observations by writing: “Hasta aquí tomó Su Señoría de Constantino doctor.”

“Spain’S greatest [territorial] losses have been to Portugal,” grumbled José de Carvajal y Lancáster in the mid-eighteenth century. Well might Ferdinand VI’s astute minister complain, for, by 1750, the Luso-Brazilians, employing their “indirect methods of conquest “had tripled the extension of Portuguese America beyond that allowed by the Treaty of Tordesillas. Moreover, a Lusitanian contemporary of Carvajal, Luís da Cunha, was counselling the establishment of a Brazilian Pacific sea frontier by advocating the exchange of the Kingdom of the Algarve in Europe for the Kingdom of Chile in the New World—a swap that “would be very convenient for the Castilians, for the security of their [Andalusian] ports.”

Guadalupe Victoria, first president of Mexico (1824–1829), in many respects deserved the title Benemérito given him on numerous occasions by the writers of his time. He was honest, a sincere patriot, dedicated to the well being of his people. He died poor and in debt, a rare fate for Mexican presidents. He was the only president to complete his term of office in the first twenty-five years of Mexican history.