America Must Prepare for a War Over Taiwan
Being Ready Is the Best Way to Prevent a Fight With China
MANY journalists, especially in Europe and Latin America, have not been able to resist the temptation, whether in irony or in sober seriousness, to identify Guatemala as the "first liberated Soviet satellite." This can be made to appear as either a fine or barbarous thing, depending upon the individual's point of view. In the United States the story of the overthrow of President Jacobo Arbenz Guzman and his Communist-infiltrated régime has long since disappeared, and the problems with which President Carlos Castillo Armas has been wrestling for the past 20 months naturally have attracted far less interest than did the revolution itself. Meanwhile the present "Liberation" government of Guatemala stands before the world and its own people in an ambiguous light. If difficulties are to be avoided for Guatemala herself and for the United States in its Latin American relations, this ambiguity requires clarification soon.
The ambiguity is twofold. First, the Castillo government is almost universally believed in Guatemala and the rest of the world outside the United States to be the creature of the Department of State. In the absence of any countervailing evidence, this belief is supported by some very decided pronouncements made by Secretary Dulles shortly before the shooting started in 1954 and by the actions and words of the American Ambassador during the fracas. Yet for more than a year after the revolution the United States did little to help the government of Castillo Armas and appeared relatively uninterested in its success.
Second, although in many respects repressive and undemocratic, the Liberation government has shown both in word and deed that, in the eyes of Guatemalans at least, it would like to be considered the heir of the basic politico-social revolution which in 1944 turned out the 14-year dictatorship of Jorge Ubico and established the first system approaching political democracy and the welfare state in the nation's history. In fact, President Castillo Armas and prominent members of his administration have repeatedly asserted not only that they do not intend to abandon the social and political reforms begun in 1944 but that they intend to carry them forward, although in purified form, purged of extreme left-wing and Communist elements and influences.
Castillo Armas gives one the impression of a modest and earnest man to whom both efficiency and practical idealism mean a great deal. At the time of his military triumph in July 1954 more than a thousand persons fled the country under the impression that the Liberation would start a wholesale slaughter and impose a harsh and repressive dictatorship. Yet neither came to pass. Although it is admitted that some 200 to 250 individuals associated with the previous régime were summarily "executed" in the first days following Arbenz' fall by "spontaneous uprisings" in areas beyond Castillo's control, the new government successfully repressed such violence and restored order throughout the country. Moreover, no oppressive dictatorship was established and many of the forms, at least, of democracy were reactivated. Nevertheless, charges of financial corruption of officials, including the President himself, have been rampant and almost the only rebuttal offered has been police action. Discontent is rife among many sections of the population because the new government has failed to formulate and carry out positive policies of social welfare. It is clear enough that the Liberation was against Communism, but what it was for, except perhaps vaguely its big brother, the United States, has by no means been certain. That any government is for the United States is, of course, good news to North Americans these days, but it does not in itself arouse either vigorous patriotic feelings in Guatemalans or intense admiration in other Latin Americans.
Thus, whether we like it or not, in the eyes of much of the world--particularly Latin America--the destinies of the Liberation government and of the United States seem to be entwined. And the unusually cordial treatment accorded Castillo Armas during his November 1955 visit to the United States, including a long interview with President Eisenhower in the hospital, indicates that the State Department was willing to risk a substantial amount of prestige on the little Colonel and his régime.
Considerable argument has developed as to whether the Arbenz government was in reality Communist-controlled and as to whether Mr. Dulles and the State Department were not unduly excited in implying that this was so. The case for the Arbenz government was set forth in La Batalla de Guatemala, by Guillermo Toriello, last Arbenz Minister of Foreign Affairs, published in Mexico in 1955 and widely circulated in Latin America. Essentially it is as follows: No more than seven or eight avowed Communists held important posts in the government; the Guatemalan Workers' Party (the name the Communist Party gave itself in 1952) had only 532 registered members and was the smallest of four political parties forming the government coalition; the Arbenz government never implemented or advocated Communist measures, but was dedicated to carrying out democratically the constitution of 1945; and, in any case, party affiliations of Guatemalan officials and the government policies themselves are the business of Guatemalans and of no one else. This thesis finds many sympathetic listeners in Latin America, especially since Toriello himself was never a publicly recognized Communist, and because he presents his government as the guardian of the Latin American ideals of cultural and political independence from the United States and of noninterference in the internal affairs of any nation.
The other side of the story,[i] in essence, is this: It is true that the number of avowed Communists was comparatively small, although the figure 532 is merely the number used to register officially the Guatemalan Workers' Party; the actual number of party members is conservatively estimated at from 2,000 to 2,500, mostly in Guatemala City. Likewise the number of powerful office holders in the government was not large. Nevertheless, during the Arbenz period they included the personal secretary of the President, the President of Congress (who was next in line for the Presidency), four of 56 deputies in Congress, the head of the social security system (although he latterly had an ostensible falling out with his coreligionists) and most of its administrators, the head of the Department of Press, Propaganda and Tourism and many of its officers, many officers of the diplomatic service, and most of the officials of the agency charged with carrying out the Agrarian Reform Act. Communists were the chief men of the largest labor unions and had also captured the Peasants' Union. They held many other posts of effective power. It is not the number of obvious Communists in exposed positions of power that counts, but the influence they wield.
Furthermore, although it is true that the (Communist) Guatemalan Workers' Party was only one member of the government party coalition, its members and policies dominated the National Democratic Front (F.D.N.) which functioned not only as an electoral coalition but also as a Congressional steering committee and a sort of "kitchen cabinet" whose influence on Arbenz and the government in general exceeded that of the official cabinet. Finally, careful unpublished studies (supported by observations of these reporters) indicate that many government servants under Arbenz who sincerely believed themselves to be anti-Communist were unwittingly converted into defenders and executors of the Party line. This may, in fact, have been true of Arbenz himself, who appears to have been a rather introverted, non-intellectual career army officer who had developed certain "welfare state" ideals. Likewise, most former insiders still in Guatemala agree that the Communists, although small in number, were tightly organized and disciplined, indefatigable in their efforts, and, from the point of view of a somewhat bewildered Arbenz, the "most reliable" political group when it came to getting things done for the administration. Under such circumstances it matters little whether the President or other outstanding members of his government actually carried Party cards or not.
As early as June 1950, the distinguished Guatemalan Ambassador to the United States, Antonio Goubaud Carrera, who had done so much to promote our understanding of the Guatemalan social revolution, issued a statement in Washington supporting the position of the United States in the Korean crisis. After several days, the Guatemalan Foreign Office, under persistent questioning by reporters, made a terse, sour declaration that it "did not repudiate the Ambassador." Shortly, however, he was recalled to Guatemala, and after being subjected to many sorts of humiliation by President Arévalo and the government, committed suicide. Following this the anti-Yankee campaign within the country was stepped up and was finally manifested in open opposition to the United States in such international forums as the United Nations and the Organization of American States.
In 1944, it was apparently not realized that a fundamental social revolution was rumbling through Latin America, inspired not by Marxism but by Allied wartime propaganda and by such notions as the Four Freedoms of the Atlantic Charter. The Guatemalan revolution of 1944 was a serious attempt to make these ideals articulate, and effective in political action. If such a social --as distinguished from a merely political--revolution is not recognized for what it is and if appropriate action is not taken by the democracies, the situation is almost tailor-made for the Communists to exploit.
If one looks backward to the situation in 1944 before the fall of Ubico, the following cultural and political features stand out. The country was bound in a semi-feudal economic structure on an agricultural base characterized by large landholdings in the hands of a few proprietors and operated by forced labor, mainly that of Indians. The Indian was officially denigrated and was maintained within a caste structure, excluded from the national life. There was only a tiny middle class engaged in services, including governmental, rather than industrial production and commercial expansion. The concept of broad national interest among the population as a whole was undeveloped and neglected. The growth of professions, of science, pure or applied, and of scholastic achievement of all kinds was discouraged. Consequently the political structure was oversimplified, with a heavy dependence on the military. The administration of public affairs was personalistic and highly unprofessional. Under these conditions, special groups-in-interest could not organize themselves so as to force compromise solutions on the monolithic government. And for the most part local communities were politically dead; they were not integrated into the national scene but merely ruled by authoritarian intendentes appointed by the central power.
The revolution of 1944 set out to abolish these features of "backwardness." Forced labor was abolished in fact as well as in law, and workers, including agricultural labor, were given the right to organize into unions. A legal pattern was established for the breakup of large agricultural estates and for the formation of a landowning peasantry, to be provided with credit facilities through a national Agrarian Bank. One of the stated objectives was the "incorporation of the Indian into the circle of national life." This was implemented through an active National Indian Institute, by a great expansion of Indian and rural educational facilities, and by giving autonomy to local communities, many of which were almost completely Indian in population. The Indians, although decreasing proportionately, still constituted 53.5 percent of the population in 1950. Development of the middle classes was encouraged by establishment of effective autonomy of the University and a significant expansion of its curriculum and budget, by the development of a social security system, the elaboration of the banking structure, the establishment of a production development institute to aid small proprietors, and the official stimulation of private business under the "capitalistic system."
For the first time in history, candidates were nominated with some respect to the district they were to represent. The formation of political parties of diverse views, previously forbidden, tended to break down the Ubico pattern of personalism in government and also extended political activity from the capital to the provinces and local communities. The latter were allowed to elect their own officers and to manage most affairs of local concern. Since the first President of the revolution, Juan José Arévalo, was himself a university professor, he drew into the government many university men, intellectuals and technicians, with the effect that professionals and near-professionals gained prestige and the efficiency of public service was enhanced.
It is true, of course, that many of the reforms of 1944-54 were legally expressed aspirations, few of which were fully met in practice. Nevertheless, it appears that on the whole these aspirations represented the will of the people; the leftist administrators of 1951-54 capitalized on them to introduce organizational forms and controls in their own interests.
The "grass roots" effects of this revolution can best be appreciated by examination of local situations.[ii] In each rural community the story is essentially the same--political awakening, the development of national consciousness, the appearance of new aspirations and the awareness of "rights" and duties formerly unknown or suppressed. A sketch of one of these communities, San Luis Jilotepeque, will suffice here.
San Luis Jilotepeque is a municipio in the Department of Jalapa, about 100 miles east of the capital city in a straight line and about 170 miles by road. About two-thirds of the population (approximately 10,000) are classed as Indians of Pokomám linguistic stock, and the rest as Ladinos. Prior to 1944 Ladinos owned about 70 percent of the agricultural land.
Under Ubico, Indians and Ladinos alike took no part in politics other than to vote ceremonially for the single government slate of Congressional candidates. Although San Luis is on the main pilgrimage route to the shrine of Esquipulas, during most of the year the road was in such bad repair that movement to and from the community was almost entirely by the feet of men or animals. San Luis was thus largely isolated from cultural (including technological and ideological) influences of the modern world, or even of the nation. Although not complete, the isolation was such that one could easily identify any new thing that came into the community, its origin, its route and who brought it. For all practical purposes the culture and political systems of both Indians and Ladinos were static.
Came the revolution of 1944 and things began to change, even in San Luis, whether for better or for worse. By 1955 the following innovations had become established. Roads and bridges had been improved so that regular thrice weekly bus service connected the town with the outside world both to the east and west. Mail was carried by bus and no longer "voluntarily" on Indian men's backs from the departmental capital 41 kilometers and two mountain ranges to the west. The number of copies of daily newspapers received had risen from five to 35. A diesel electric light plant provided street lighting, home lighting (for some 250 subscribers, mostly Ladinos) and current for 20 radios, seven electric refrigerators and several corn-grinding mills making masa for tortillas. The number of schools had gone up from four to 12, and school enrollment had increased more than 200 percent, with a proportionately higher augment among Indian children. University-trained principals had been in charge since 1946. All former labor for the local government was now paid for at a rate officially declared to be 80 cents a day. Movies were shown about once a week. A water system providing convenient faucets on street corners and in private houses (the latter for persons paying a special fee, of course) was installed in 1955. The church was restored by the Arbenz government and a resident priest established for the first time in 50 years. The main street was paved.
These things had provided access for the people of San Luis, Indian and Ladino alike, to ideas and organizational movements of the nation and the outside world at large. An increased standard of real income was evidenced by a change to more expensive buying habits, especially in manufactured goods imported from outside the community. To mention one trivial example, the per capita sale of factory-made straw and felt hats increased about 950 percent between 1942 and 1954. This economic prosperity manifested by "more money in the pocket" was, of course, stimulated by world market conditions, but also unquestionably by policies of successive national governments such as payment for formerly forced labor, minimum wage legislation and encouragement of private ownership of land by former peons and sharecroppers through the Agrarian Reform Act.
From a political-cultural point of view, the most important effects in San Luis were not purely economic. They were the feelings of individual independence and "dignity of the person" which for the first time either in their own lives or in local tradition the inhabitants of San Luis came to know. They developed a new conception of the rôle of the individual in local and national concerns. In 1955 many an individual in San Luis who in 1942 had never dreamed of taking part in any affairs larger than the dreary concerns of his daily work, his milpa, or his modest landholding could look back on ten years of increasing participation in political movements and discussion of political issues. Local political autonomy, established by the constitution of 1945, gave the first opportunity for lessons in political participation. Mayors and councilmen were elected and for three years political divisions and issues were almost purely local. By the latter part of 1948 representatives of nationally organized political parties began to penetrate San Luis and to woo or demand the allegiance of the new participant-citizens.
In the municipal elections of 1953, no less than five parties, all of them officially affiliates of national groups of the same names, presented three slates of candidates. Although travelling representatives of the Vanguardia Nacional, a forerunner of the Communist Party, appeared in the community as early as 1948, the Communist Party or its successor, the Guatemalan Workers' Party, was never organized under its own name in San Luis.
Shortly after the promulgation of the Agrarian Reform Law (1952) a local Unión Campesina (Peasants' Union) was organized by outside agents and began vigorous agitation and, it is reported, occasional violent action. According to the municipal records, the number of arrests for "crimes against the person" and "crimes against public order" rose rapidly during 1951-1953. In the latter year four murders occurred. One of these involved the ambush of the son of the largest Ladino estate owner, and two others are said to have arisen from quarrels over the Agrarian Reform Law. Stands of timber were burned and growing field crops of noncoöperators were destroyed by members of the Unión Campesina, according to reports of 1955 informants. However, only some 237 persons were identified as members of the Union, of which about 180 are said to have been Indians.
One of the features of these developments was the fact that many of the younger and better educated Indians and lower-class Ladinos were drawn first into political activity and then into the more "radical" movements. As early as 1948, before the more leftist programs and organizations had put in an appearance, the Indians by local election outnumbered the Ladinos 4 to 2 on the municipal council. One of the results of the "clean-up" following the Castillo Armas victory was that nine of the younger leaders were taken captive to Chiquimula, the "Liberation" headquarters, where they were reported to have been summarily executed by a firing squad. Among these, according to available information, were five young literate Indians. Numerous other small leaders fled the community into exile or hiding elsewhere.
The excesses of local leaders seem to have been almost entirely inspired by outside "agitators." The desire for land was deeply imbedded in the ethos of both Indians and poor Ladinos alike in 1942, but as late as 1948 the methods contemplated locally to obtain wider distribution of it were entirely gradualistic and "democratic." Objectively, it can only be regarded as unfortunate that the Arbenz régime failed to maintain the pattern of orderly education in political participation on the local level which had begun so auspiciously during the first years of the Arévalo administration. And it is doubly unfortunate that events resulted in the elimination of the flower of the young leadership. However, it is to the credit of Castillo Armas that after the first roundup of "Communists" San Luis people say that they have been free of persecutions and spying since October 1954 (when the confirmation of Castillo Armas took place by "plebiscite").
Visiting the community in July of 1955, one found that although the old political divisions were no longer discussed and that memories of the "terror" of the last months of Arbenz were still alive, San Luis had not gone back to 1942. Ten years of experience in political affairs on the local level, a decade of exposure to the national symbols and discussion of them, had left the average man with his eyes open and with a new interest in the world of which he now saw himself a part. No longer is San Luis an isolated and sad little country municipio, where "there is nothing you can do about it" and undesirable events and conditions are merely "the will of God." If the Castillo Armas régime fulfills its promises to maintain the conditions of democracy, San Luis is now equipped as never before to continue along the road toward progress and the elimination of social injustice. Essentially the same changes are found in other communities examined, although some are more "advanced," others less so, than San Luis.
The government of Castillo Armas thus took over a country that had experienced a decade of "democratic reforms" and had assimilated many of them into its culture. And the men whom Castillo brought into the government were aware of this. His closest supporters appear to be the remnants of the group that had been pushing the presidential candidacy of the then Chiefof-Staff Francisco Javier Araña when he was assassinated in 1949, almost certainly by Arbencistas. These persons, many of them young, were all supporters of the basic principles behind the revolution of 1944 and many of them had gained experience in the government of Guatemala City, an opposition center during the incumbency of Arbenz.
Yet the carrying out of commitments to further the basic reforms of the revolution of 1944 is by no means a simple matter and may be quite impossible unless the powers that be have a real understanding of the human resources of the country. Fortunately, Castillo Armas is aware of this and is setting something of a precedent in planning two conferences of social scientists who will be asked to bring their knowledge to bear on the problems of Guatemala. What are some of the factors and conditions which these social scientists might recognize and with which any Guatemalan government must ultimately contend?
First, there is the emergence in Guatemala and elsewhere in Latin America of what may be described as the Middle Mass, a largely unstable group which has provided both the motivation and the leadership for the social and political changes that have occurred in Guatemala since 1944. This segment of society is not the middle class, in the sense familiar to students of Northern Europe and the United States. It is a collection of "middle" groups, not yet consolidated, and lacking that long period of development in the "bourgeois virtues" known in Europe and North America. The distinguishing negative features of the members of the Middle Mass are that, on the one hand, they do not earn their living by manual labor and, on the other hand, they do not claim the power and privileges of the aristocracy. Yet they are accessible to the media of mass communications and therefore to aspirations and ideologies of the outside world. The inadequacy of the Middle Mass as a basis for social and political development lies in its absence of common goals. Its members tend to split between those who believe in progress by evolutionary means and those who favor reform by revolution.
Most officers of the army are of the Middle Mass and it is an axiom in Guatemala that, although the army does not govern, in the last analysis it determines who does. In the revolution of 1944 the army made common cause with other elements, consisting mainly of the less prosperous "intellectuals," smaller business men, professional men and students. For a decade these segments constituted the dominant coalition and they constitute the core of the Castillo Armas government today.
Although the revolution of 1944 was not "staffed" to any significant degree either by Indians or by lower-class Ladinos, its leaders were sensitive to the demands and expectations of these groups which constitute the great majority of the population. The three major goals of these segments of society--land reform, rights of labor, and education--commanded attention. The Indians and lower-class Ladinos are, after ten years, aware of their "rights" in these respects, and no government can long ignore them without the use of the most oppressive force.
During its first 18 months in power, however, the Castillo government has refused to take a firm stand on anything except Communism. The result seems to be a series of paradoxes and ambiguities that create uneasiness both within and outside of Guatemala and that gain the positive support of hardly anyone.
On the one hand official propaganda speaks of "eleven years of Communist rule" and on the other the dominant members of the administration pride themselves on being the intellectual and moral heirs of the revolution of 1944. Indeed, the anniversary of the fall of Ubico was officially celebrated in 1955, but the dictator's old head of the secret police was once again discharging the same function, and many others of the old retainers occupied high positions. The Liberation government protests its love of democracy, but there has been maintained for over a year the National Committee for the Defense Against Communism, a direct dependency of the executive, with powers of arrest which do not recognize habeas corpus, amparo, or any other of the normal safeguards stemming either from the principle of division of powers or from normal constitutional civil guarantees. Conversely, its avowed hatred for Communism did not prevent the government from allowing as many as a thousand leaders and active supporters of the former régime to seek asylum and leave the country peaceably. El Estudiante, an oppositionist weekly published by a committee of law students, spares little in attacking the government and even the President personally, but appears regularly and without visible official molestation. And yet estimates concerning the number of formal and informal police agencies range between 11 and 19.
Castillo, focussing the total opposition on Arbenz, has apparently felt he had to accept help from Ubiquista and clerical elements. Perforce, each group could not have its own revolutionary candidate. Violently clashing opinions thus sought shelter under the same cover. Aranista congressional leaders bitterly criticized certain Ubiquista police actions; partisans of the church rowed with traditional liberals. Sometimes one group jailed the other: the leader of the President's own political "association," or party, was in jail on the very day that the 1954 plebiscite confirmed the presidency of Castillo Armas and elected the constituent assembly.
To complicate matters further, many of these persons were hungry for the fruits of power after their long fast. Scandals and rumors of scandals continued to rock the country. Charges of skulduggery attended the purchase by the government of the port of Champerico from a subsidiary of the Grace Line; bidding on road contracts sometimes contained suspicious elements; the problem of enlarging the telephone system in the capital led to violent competition between Ericsson and Siemens, with charges on both sides that bribes were offered and accepted. A late 1955 scandal concerned a corn importing company which allegedly made over a million dollars in six months of speculation on the grain market while the price of corn rose from a normal three or four cents a pound to as high as 15; at the same time the American Government shipped in corn as a gift to sell for four cents. El Estudiante linked the name of President with the grain operations, causing a most embarrassing national episode.
The United Fruit Company made the gesture of turning over about 100,000 acres of its lands for division among the peasants, and the government appealed to other landowners to do likewise. A handful responded. The government also experimentally divided a couple of its nationally-owned estates. An agency was set up for the planning of rural colonies, each to have a community center containing market, church, school, assembly hall, etc., and a handful of experts was imported from the United States to help. But the program is still on an experimental basis and the fundamental problem of redistributing the land has not been faced. Castillo naïvely asked his wealthy and conservative backers to contribute financially to the success of the Liberation. When they snickered, he resorted to a capital levy. The labor unions are still emasculated for lack of leadership. Real wages have suffered a serious decline. Small business marks time for lack of confidence and a clear credit policy. The schoolteachers are largely demoralized because the baleful National Committee for the Defense Against Communism keeps them under steady surveillance. Indian leaders want to know where they fit into the picture.
Lacking a clear-cut program and a stage on which issues can be democratically argued and compromised, the government drifted toward increasing dependence on the police power. Yet the Liberation has shown that it does not wish to return to the politics of Ubico, which were clearly of a different family. The real alternatives are not between the post-1944 governments, but rather between the Arévalo-Arbenz-Castillo succession and the past as symbolized by Ubico. The post-revolutionary governments have all been in the stream of modernism, what we may tritely call modern Western culture, whether the ideological whitewash be leftist or rightist. The present problem is whether this venture into the free world can be consolidated or whether a violent movement by either right or left opposition on the one hand, or a slow drift into a police state by the present government on the other, will eventually result in an inevitable new "Liberation."
As the year 1955 drew to a close--and with it the first 18 months of the Liberation--certain forms of democracy had been restored in Guatemala. A new constitution had been approved and elections had been held for a new Congress (the unicameral form was continued) and for municipal officials. Three groups of parties--all anti-Communist--had been organized, although one coalition, termed the "opposition" by the press, refused to participate in the elections. It claimed that the whole procedure as decreed by the government was "undemocratic," a criticism which was echoed by several of the independent newspapers. One of them, La Hora, proclaimed editorially that the time had come when Castillo Armas must choose between democracy and dictatorship, a point of view that, surprisingly, was taken seriously in El Espectador, organ of the government party coalition (National Democratic Movement). And on the last day of the year it was reported on the radio that the President planned early in the new year to "purge" his administration in the interests of "efficiency" and "loyalty to the Liberation." Also late in the year a group of labor unions--34 had been allowed to organize by this time--protested the paralyzing effects of the National Committee for the Defense Against Communism, the super-judicial "snooping" arm of the executive. And another scandal had been unearthed involving officials of the Ministry of Communications who were allegedly selling highway bureau gasoline for their personal enrichment.
It is a considerably easier and shorter job to "liberate" Guatemala than to convert it to a fully democratic country of the modern world. The latter takes time, as well as enlightened leadership. The United States has much at stake and cannot afford to lose interest. Whatever the full truth may be, we are identified by much of the world as a conspirator in the Guatemalan Revolution of two years ago. If our first "Liberation" is to degenerate into a tawdry poorhouse of quarreling inmates, or another experiment in Communist infiltration, or a reversion to traditional "banana republic" reactionism, many people are going to think that we would do better to remain out of the liberation business. Peoples of the underdeveloped areas outside the Iron Curtain, to say nothing of the satellites themselves, are going to judge the results of the Guatemala liberation in terms of their ideas of the better life, not by the immediate military results of a few border skirmishes in June 1954.
[i] This has been documented in such works as the State Department's "'Intervention of International Communism in Guatemala" (1954); Daniel James' melodramatically titled but carefully written volume, "Red Design for the Americas: Guatemalan Prelude" (1954); K. H. Silvert's "A Study in Government: Guatemala" (1954); and Theodore Geiger's "El Communismo Contra el Progreso en Guatemala" (1953).
[ii] The present writers participated in a study of the effects of the changes of 1944-54 in ten typical rural communities, the results of which will be published in 1956 by Tulane University.