III.1.2 DIGITAL ARCHIVE 776328
These two passages (“Prefácio” and “Capítulo Um”) are from A ilusão americana, a book criticizing U.S. expansionist policies that Brazilian writer and journalist Eduardo [Paulo da Silva] Prado (1860–1901) published in 1894. The author urges Brazilians not to be fooled into believing in any sort of real cooperation and compromise between Brazil and the United States or other Latin American republics. Prado’s argument is underscored by the belief that at a time when hatred between neighbors was evident, fraternal unity was nothing more than an illusion and the Monroe Doctrine [SEE DOCUMENT III.1.1] was a common threat. Prado’s critique stemmed from his monarchist associations and convictions. A privileged member of the paulista coffee oligarchy, colloquially known as “quatrocentona,” Prado was a staunch supporter of imperial Brazil under Dom Pedro II. Once Brazil proclaimed itself a republic on November 15, 1889, the conservative critic focused his attention on denouncing the new government. The Republican government, in turn, confiscated the first edition of A ilusão americana [(São Paulo: Typ. da Companhia Industrial de S. Paulo)], which Prado wrote in exile in London three years after the 1891 Brazilian constitution was adopted. The book was published in several editions, including one released in 1961 [A ilusão americana, 3rd ed. (São Paulo: Brasiliense), 5–18], which is the source of this translation.
Originally written in Brazil, this work has now been reprinted abroad,1 and would deserve to be brought to light even if it was uninteresting.
This unpretentious text was confiscated and forbidden by the government of the Republic of Brazil. To possess this book was a felony, to read it a conspiracy, and to have written it, a crime.
Before the painful ordeal that in the name of the Republic devastated the Brazilian fatherland, no other administration had felt so weak and culpable to the point of being unable to tolerate either truth or contradiction, or even an objective and noble critique.
Our great-grandparents were young when the Inquisition was abolished. From that time on in our country, power never dared to come between our exceptional writers and their meager public. This achievement in liberty was considered definitive, but tragically the republican government of Brazil was destined to resist civilization and to disillusion all. My book did not enjoy any more freedom within the Republic than did the press, public assemblies, or even the guarantees of citizenship.
The Romans used to say that all books have their own destiny. The fate of this one is not so terrible, honored as it was with the wrath of liberty’s enemies. And has not Truth itself proclaimed felicitous all those who suffered the persecution of justice?
We believe it is time to react against the madness of imposing an absolute alliance with the great Anglo-Saxon republic upon Brazil. We separated ourselves from it not only due to the enormous distance [between us], but also because of race, religion, character, language, history, and the traditions of our people.
The fact that Brazil and the United States are found on the same continent is a mere accident of geography to which it would be puerile to attribute an exaggerated importance.
Where in history is it written that all nations on the same continent must have the same form of government? And where does history demonstrate that these nations must mandatorily be brothers? In the midst of a monarchic Europe, do France and Switzerland not exist as republics? What sort of fraternity is there between France and Germany, Russia and Austria, Denmark and Prussia? That these nations are located on the same continent—that they are close neighbors—does that prevent them from acting like bitter enemies? To attempt to identify Brazil with the United States because they are both in the same hemisphere would be the same as imposing Swiss institutions upon Portugal because both countries happen to be in Europe.
The fraternity of the Americas is a lie; consider the Iberian nations of America. There is more hatred and more enmity among them than among European nations.
Mexico—both despondent and oppressive—has time and again invaded Guatemala. Guatemala has waged bloody wars against the republic of El Salvador. El Salvador is the bitter enemy of Nicaragua. Nicaragua is the fierce adversary of Honduras. And there is no love lost between Honduras and Costa Rica. The tortuous and horrid history of all these nations is a veritable river of blood—a continuum of carnage. Where is the solidarity of the Americas? Where is the fraternity of the republics?
Colombia and Venezuela despise each other. Never completely resigned, Ecuador is the victim of either Colombian violence or Peruvian demands. And Peru? Did it not attack Bolivia? And then after forming an alliance with her, did they not wage an unjust war against Chile? And Chile—has it not twice invaded Bolivia and Peru, [resulting] in a horrific massacre of Bolivians and Peruvians in the last war, perhaps the bloodiest conflict of this century? But Chile does not have only these enemies: her great adversary is the republic of Argentina. In addition to having usurped territory from Bolivia, this latter country also forces Chile to maintain an enormous army. No one denies that any conflict between these countries would be a catastrophe that could break out at any moment. The dictator [José Gaspar Rodríguez de] Francia, the laconic executioner of Paraguay whom Augusto Comte places among the saints to be venerated on the Positivist calendar,2 was led by his hatred for the Argentineans and the other peoples of America to isolate his country for decades. The republic of Argentina was the natural enemy of Paraguay. Thus when [Francisco Solano] López attacked Argentina, Brazil allied itself with Argentina in a war against Paraguay. And how does Uruguay feel about Argentina? Today there is not one Argentinean man who does not admit that the supreme ambition of his country is to reestablish the ancient Viceroyalty of Buenos Aires through the conquest of both Paraguay and Uruguay.
Such is the fraternity of the Americas.
Facing the rising sun and with its populous centers nearer to Europe than the majority of the other countries of the Americas, [Brazil enjoys] greater ease of travel. As it is separated [from the other nations of the continent] both by origin and language, neither the corporeal nor the intangible Brazil forms any [coherent] system with the other nations. Geologists surmise that a long time ago the Amazon and the River Plate were linked to each other as two interior seas. Brazil, being an enormous island, was really a continent unto itself. The alluvial deposits, the strata at the depths of the ancient Mediterranean, cemented Brazil to the Eastern slopes of the Andes. This connection, however, is superficial; it developed independently from the deep roots and eternal bases of the Brazilian massif. Therefore the volcanic tremors from the other system never reach Brazilian shores. When they do occur, the quakes are so distant that they are faint and imperceptible and can only be registered by instruments since the senses are unable to perceive them. The Jesuit missionary Samuel Fritz stated in 1698 that a terrible eruption in the Andes transformed the Solimões, a Brazilian waterway, into a “river of mud” and that the Natives perceived this as the wrath of the gods. With regard to political order, it seems that in the end it was both the Spanish [republics] and revolutionary eruptions that troubled the Brazilian waters. The torrent, however, is not only of mud but also of blood. . . .
If we study the Iberian countries of the Americas as a whole, one by one, we find a peculiar trait in all of them beyond the tragicomedy of dictatorships, constituents, and seditions. The life of these countries connotes financial ruin.
The principal cause of this insolvency is systematic bad debt: the shameless theft made [possible] by the good faith of their European creditors. By not repaying loans, the treasury ministers of the Spanish republics have stolen more money from European pockets than Europe ever took from the gold and silver mines of the Americas. Let us consider the fantastical budgets of these countries. The irregular accounting practices of these nations are at the core of the appalling deficits and unscrupulous forgeries. State funds are appropriated and spent by the presidents with ease unfamiliar to even the czar of Russia. What are we witnessing? The celebrated war budget devours everything: there are dozens of generals, hundreds of colonels, and thousands of officers.
This is proof that the brotherhood of the Americas does not exist.
If the nations of the Americas lived, or were even capable of living as brothers, they would not need to crush their taxpayers or wreck their respective treasuries while defrauding their creditors through the purchase of armaments and instruments of war that are so destructive to the national prosperity.
Now let us speak of that great North American republic so that we may see what sort of fraternal feelings it has shown toward Latin America, as well as the moral influence it has exerted over the civilizations of the entire continent.
In the last quarter of the eighteenth century, extraordinary men of the old Anglo-Saxon lineage—spurred either by Puritanism or encouraged by philosophical fads—appeared in the thirteen English colonies of North America. They resolved to create an independent nation and never did it enter their minds to proselytize independence or the republican model in the Americas. That was not characteristic of their race.
The goal they had in sight was immediate, bounded, and practical. When they declared independence from their mother country, they had the kingdoms of Spain and France as allies. How could they wish Spain to lose its rich American colonies when they were grateful for its intervention on behalf of their independence? If they had any sympathy for the emancipation of the other countries of the Americas, it did not surface for another thirty or forty years. By then all Latin America was bringing about its independence at the cost of great sacrifice, without any help from the United States.
The ignorant pretension with which superficial French writers tried to link the American Revolution to the French revolution is highly comical. They wanted [to show] that French revolutionary ideas had influenced America when, if there had been any influence exerted, it had been the other way around. Benjamin Franklin, wearing black trousers, slip-on shoes and [carrying] no sword at his side, [had no need for] embroidery or plumes: he had his reputation as a wise man and liberator. Because of his fame for having been a simple worker in his youth, he had an impact in France. When he, in his good-humored skepticism, would laugh uproariously at the saying coined by Robert Turgot [Baron de l’Aulne]: Eripuit coelo fulmen sceptrumque tyrannis [“he snatched the lightning from the sky and the scepter from the tyrants”]—he was proving that his good sense had not been lost on the French aristocracy despite its suicidal foolishness. When the revolution broke out, when it began to burn and kill, there was a great sympathy in all of the United States for Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette: the old allies [and] generous protectors of American independence. Shortly thereafter, the government in Washington broke off diplomatic relations with the French Republic. So, where was the brotherhood? Where was the republican solidarity?
Let us consider history. What support did the government of the United States offer for the independence of the Iberian colonies of the Americas? What was the attitude of the United States when these nations were attacked by the powers of Europe? How did the government in Washington treat them? What role did the United States play in the civil and international struggles throughout Latin America? What was its political, moral and economic influence over these countries?
All that follows to be read in this book refers to these matters. They will all be discussed here, though not always in the same order in which they are listed.
Latin America is principally indebted to England, not the United States, for the moral strength that permitted it to achieve independence. It was William Burke3 who was the first voice in Europe to speak in favor of the independence of South America; he wrote a vibrant pamphlet advocating for it. Then emerged the Abbé de Pradt, and afterward [Prime Minister George] Canning, who practically made independence possible—essentially feasible and certain—after Lord Wellington had officially advised it during the Congress of Verona.4
The independence of the Latin nations of America was not supported at all by the United States. The nations that struggled for their political emancipation must then render considerable appreciation to England.
Mr. Carlos Calvo [SEE DOCUMENT I.2.1] states that the attitude of the United States and the proclamation of its Monroe Doctrine [SEE DOCUMENT III.1.1] weighed in a decisive manner on the spirit of the English government. During the Congress of Verona in 1822 and because of Lord Wellington’s [influence], England came out in defense of the Spanish-American nations, against which the Holy Alliance was attempting to intervene in favor of Spain.
This affirmation is incorrect. In the first place, the so-called Monroe Doctrine was proclaimed by the United States fifteen months later in December 1823. And what was the attitude of the United States toward the rebellious colonies? The Spanish-American author Mr. [José María] Samper informs us: “With regard to the United States, it is strange to observe that even though it [should have been] the power most interested in favoring our independence, from the political and commercial point of view that is, it nevertheless demonstrated itself to be much less approving than England. The [United States] in general was indifferent to our revolution and thus very late in its official declarations, as well as parsimonious in providing the arms support that we were requesting—with our own money—from traders and shipbuilders.5
Long before the message sent by [President James] Monroe, the American ambassador [to England, Richard] Rush, had received a communication from Canning that the Holy Alliance was thinking of intervening in the Americas on behalf of Spain; Canning added that he was disposed to directly oppose this plan [of the Holy Alliance] if he could count on the cooperation of the United States. Rush sent Canning’s communication to his government, and it was received with great satisfaction because at that time, as was later recounted by cabinet member [John C.] Calhoun, the United States considered it unwise to intervene given the great power of the Holy Alliance. Calhoun would treat his secretaries with consideration, as opposed [to the manner in which] the semi-barbaric presidents of the continent’s other republics [treated] the irresponsible men serving as their ministers. [Monroe] shared the communication from London with his cabinet, and he also consulted with [Thomas] Jefferson as to whether he should accept the help offered by England.6 Until then, the attitude of the United States had been one of reserve and abstention. For a nation that wanted to present itself as the protector of all Latin Americans, it is necessary to stress that this policy was not fraternal: it was egotistical. In fact in 1819, the American government refused to receive the consuls of Venezuela and Argentina, citing various pretexts.7 It was only in March 1823 that the United States recognized the independence of the [former] Spanish republics.
Strengthened and encouraged by England’s initiative, on December 2, 1823, President Monroe issued this message:
. . . We owe it, therefore, to candor and to the amicable relations existing between the United States and those [European] powers to declare that we should consider any attempt on their part to extend their system to any portion of this hemisphere as dangerous to our peace and safety. With the existing colonies or dependencies of any European power we have not interfered and shall not interfere. But with the Governments who have declared their independence and maintain it, and whose independence we have, on great consideration and on just principles, acknowledged, we could not view any interposition for the purpose of oppressing them, or controlling in any other manner their destiny, by any European power in any other light than as the manifestation of an unfriendly disposition toward the United States. . . .
[In short,] there you have the famous doctrine!
South American naïveté—never so mocked and defrauded—saw in this declaration a formal commitment—one solemn and definitive—of an alliance with the United States: an alliance as preposterous as one between dogs and cats. For seventy-one years, the United States government accumulated declarations upon declarations that are tantamount to retractions. For seventy-one years, writers, orators, and American politicians have explained that [Monroe’s speech] implied neither commitment nor alliance. For seventy-one years, through words, acts, and omissions, the government in Washington has effectively attributed a restricted meaning to Monroe’s words. But even today there are those who super-stitiously interpret it literally. Stupidity, it seems, is unassailable. . . .
1
These words were written by the author to introduce a second edition. The first edition of this book was confiscated and destroyed by the Brazilian government for its monarchic ideas and support of the ancien régime against the recently inaugurated Republic.—Ed.
2
Indeed, Positivism was implemented as a guiding doctrine of the state beginning in the nineteenth century in countries such as Mexico, Brazil, and Chile.—Ed.
3
William Burke, South American Independence, or The Emancipation of South America: The Glory and Interest of England (London, 1807).
4
[François René, Viscount of] Chateaubriand, Le congrès de Verone, chapter XVI.
5
J.M. Samper, Ensayo sobre las revoluciones políticas y la condición social de las repúblicas hispano-americanas (Paris, 1861), 195.
6
Von Holst, Constitutional History of the United States of America, vol. 1, 420; Thomas Jefferson, Works, vol. VII, 315–16.
7
Annual Register of the Year 1819 (London, 1920), 233. [—Ed.]