Deliberately or otherwise, in his second book James L. Payne goes far to establish himself as one whose imaginative insights are matched by a high level of intellectual arrogance and self-esteem. Patterns of Conflict in Colombia contains far too much for adequate treatment in a review, and it should be required reading for all social scientists with a serious interest in Latin American politics and society. This assessment can dwell but briefly on three major points: 1) the data from which he formulates his “incentive theory” for purposes of explication; 2) his personalized analysis of Colombian politics; and 3) regrettably, the overall intellectual ambience.
The first third of the book attempts to elucidate an overarching theory of politics from which a series of testable hypotheses can be derived. This “incentive approach to political analysis” deserves careful study, containing as it does a variety of provocative implications for the study of Latin America. Payne argues that Colombian political leaders are motivated fundamentally by the quest for status as represented by political office, and that concern for specific programs is largely absent. From this base he constructs a lengthy series of propositions and generalizations. By and large, he holds that these are applicable to the whole of Latin America. Payne may be correct, but unfortunately, this is essentially an exercise in assertion rather than proof.
The author has generated original data from a personally administered survey of Colombian upper leadership and an occupational prestige survey distributed to students in three Bogotá universities. His findings are interesting, but many of the conclusions are tentative. Had he devoted more time to the admittedly arduous task of data collection, he might have avoided the frequent practice of citing his data, extending conclusions well beyond what could be justified, and then clinching his argument with personal observations of isolated events. There are stimulating and suggestive insights, especially those relating to the Colombian party system and the impact of party identification. But again, this is largely the result of impressionistic and intelligent insight rather than scientifically demonstrable testing. The social scientist who examines both the text and appendices will lament Payne’s proclivity to go beyond his data.
A concomitant characteristic is the author’s insistent use of the first person to remind us that “I was present,” “I witnessed,” and “it seems to me.” While improved editing might have deleted such statements, they are representative of Payne’s overbearing intellectual attitude. In Olympian fashion, without citation, he attacks the “echoing assumptions” erroneously held by most scholars tilling the Latin American fields. In the first part, then again in the final chapter, he sets up straw men and merrily knocks them down with evident self-satisfaction. He tilts unnecessarily with Martin Needler (pp. 156-157); he pauses for a shot at Albert Hirschman (p. 249); and he ends his criticism of Robert Dix with the bibliographical comment that Dix unconvincingly makes “many of the usual neo-Marxist allegations” (p. 338) Payne also misrepresents the present reviewer (pp. 310-311).
I would be the last to protest sharp and critical intellectual exchanges, sharing with Payne considerable dissatisfaction over the state of social science research on Latin American politics, including my own. Nonetheless, he has gone further than good judgment or discriminating scholarship warrants. Hopefully he will come to realize, as we all must, the limits of knowledge and understanding in a field which is rife with complexity. If so, he promises in time to become a major talent in an area too often represented by mediocrity.
