The role of intellectuals in the Mexican Revolution remains a historical problem. The orthodox teaching is what Frank Tannenbaum proclaimed almost forty years ago : “The Mexican Revolution was anonymous. It was essentially the work of the common people. No organized party presided at its birth. No great intellectuals prescribed its program, formulated its doctrine, outlined its objectives. . .. There is no Lenin in Mexico.” But the orthodoxy does not explain why intellectuals were such nonentities.
Cockcroft’s book gives an interesting answer. It establishes that during the decade before the Revolution there had appeared in Mexico “revolutionary intellectuals sick of capitalism and foreign influence in the country, that they had organized a party (the Mexican Liberal Party), that they had devised a radical program for social and economic reforms, that they had attracted some popular support and even provoked some popular protests against the regime, and that during the Revolution they tried to impose an ‘anticapitalist’ program, doctrine, and objectives.” Granting (grudgingly) that they failed and that a “progressive bourgeoisie” finally gained control, the book suggests that in the struggle to direct the Revolution the revolutionary intellectuals” beat themselves. The argument, which comes not so much from history as from sociology, is that in general intellectuals are politically incohesive. Forming “a recognizable social group” because of their education, but coming from “distinct classes,” they are individually more “flexible . . . in determining their loyalties” than members of other groups or classes. In 1910-1911 and again in 1914-1915 when the Mexican “revolutionary intellectuals” had a chance to lead many popular revolts and make an “anticapitalist” revolution, they split up. This division destroyed their popular base, removed them from the contest for revolutionary power, and let the Revolution go its anonymous way. There were Lenins in Mexico, but they lost.
The authority of the argument is considerable. It derives from Cockcroft’s obvious familiarity with pertinent evidence from several primary sources. Among these are the records of the Mexican Foreign Ministry, the memories of seven venerable veterans of the Liberal movement, some fifty Mexicans and American newspapers, and about eighty contemporary pamphlets on political and economic issues. The only important evidence missing is that from industrial workers, villagers, and peons, to reveal the effect which Cockcroft claims the Liberals had on them.
The composition of the book is convoluted. Part One analyzes the structure of Porfirian power in San Luis Potosí, where the “revolutionary intellectuals” began their movement, and studies four local “revolutionary intellectuals” (Camilo Arriaga, Antonio Díaz Soto y Gama, Juan Sarabia, and Librado Rivera), a Coahuilan (Francisco I. Madero), and a Oaxacan (Ricardo Flores Magón).
Part Two, the heart of the book, describes the activity of “revolutionary intellectuals” before the Revolution, which, Cockcroft thinks, qualifies them as Precursors of the Revolution. It traces the history of the radical movement from 1900 to 1906, covering the formation of Liberal Clubs in San Luis Potosí and elsewhere, their suppression, the organization in exile of the Mexican Liberal Party (PLM), and the publication of its program. It also summarizes the PLM’s role in strikes and revolts from 1906 to 1908 and sketches the party’s repudiation of moderate movements from 1906 to 1910.
Part Three is a study of relations between Liberals and Maderistas in 1910-1911 plus an epilogue on the responsibility of the “revolutionary intellectuals” for conflicts from 1910 to 1917. An excellent index, two difficult diagrams, three standard maps, and three patchy appendices (an annotated translation of the PLM program, a glossary of Mexicanisms, and a chronology of the radical movement) do not simplify the twists and turns of the argument.
Serious methodological faults also weaken the book. The worst is Cockcroft’s confusion about class. Torturing Weber unmercifully, indulging in a barbaric Marxism, he expresses himself in terms which he apparently does not understand, which he uses carelessly, and which distort his historical vision and garble his argument and his prose. In this confusion his most bewildering surprise is the “progressive bourgeoisie,” which comes out of nowhere to win the Revolution. Almost, as bad is his confusion about the categories of cause, origin, reason, and precedence. Here the most glaring mistake is that the “revolutionary intellectuals,” who failed to make the Revolution theirs, still figure as Precursors of the Revolution. Besides, Cockcroft ignores some significance historical questions. Why did San Luis Potosí produce so many “revolutionary intellectuals”? Did the Liberals really beat themselves, or did “the common people” defeat them?
But the strength of the hook abides. Take, for example, Cockcroft’s demonstration that the Mexican economy in 1910 was not “feudal,” that on the contrary it was predominantly capitalist and heavily dependent on international finance and trade. A historian may use this to explain not only why the Revolution happened, but also why it has produced the current regime. Cockcroft’s central argument—that “anticapitalist” intellectuals failed to make the Revolution theirs because they could not stick together—reveals how the Revolution went on without them. In the end the main value of the book will be to encourage historians to resume a politically charged concept of class in writing the history of the Mexican Revolution. Even if Cockcroft’s version of the concept is useless, the concept itself will be a key to the writing and the criticism of the syntheses now in the offing.
