The key to understanding Ramón Ruíz’s study of Mexico during the first quarter of this century is his choice of the word rebellion to describe what several generations of Mexicanists have called The Revolution with a capital “T” and a capital “R. ” Ruíz sets forth in this book an interpretation of the events of those years as being less revolutionary, particularly in the leftist sense, than the conventional presentation of armed and marching Zapatistas and radical innovators of constitutional and socioeconomic reform has led us to believe. Violence, he holds, should not be confused with revolution, nor reform and renovation with the restructuring of society and ideology. “Given the narrow goals, the rebellion was essentially a face-lifting of Mexican capitalism. ” Furthermore, “The tiny band in disagreement wanting more radical change suffered failure and even death, as exemplified by the fate of Emiliano Zapata and Ricardo Flores Magón” (p. 7, emphasis supplied). This interpretation is not novel, but Ruíz brings to it a wealth of detail and examples gleaned from his archival research and reading, much of it in sources not exploited before in a work of this type.
This book is not a history of the rebellion in the usual sense. Ruíz has taken for granted a basic knowledge of the period and the events. He presents an interpretive account that is roughly chronological, but that in essence is a running commentary on their significance and meaning. Of equal importance is the large number of biographical sketches that range from thumbnail write-ups to complete chapters on such leaders as Madero, Carranza, Villa, and Obregón. Many of the shorter sketches are in two chapters appropriately entitled “A Profile of Rebels,” and “Soldiers as Revolutionaries.” In his presentation, Ruíz repeatedly emphasizes the restricted and egotistical outlook and goals of these erstwhile leaders of revolution. How many of them merited their reputations as reformers seems beyond comprehension at times. Because of this concentration on personalities and individual goals, the politicking and factionalism of the time are referred to only in passing, when needed to make happenings intelligible. Recause of this indirection, there are some repetitions to make things perfectly clear for the “gentle reader.”
In essence, Ruíz broadens the theme first developed in his book Labor and the Ambivalent Revolutionaries. The undeniable economic progress under Porfirio Díaz had bred a large number of successful malcontents who felt left out in various ways. Ruíz postulates that the rebellion was ignited by these middle-class men and intellectuals who, when necessary, made broad promises of social change to the masses but used their newly acquired power to renege when the pressure fell off. They did not oppose Díaz for his dictatorial record, but because his later political manipulations turned out to be so clever as to become counterproductive. The only honest feeling—and ironically one shared by Porfiristas and their opponents—was that foreigners, particularly North Americans, had taken over too much of the motherland. The first section of the book sets the tone for the rest of the study: the rebels really did not want to change Mexico so much as they wanted a “bigger piece of the action” monopolized by the old inner group (“the Full Car”) and wealthy foreigners. The rebels’ conservativism, as a result, verged on being reactionary. Land and labor reforms were merely counters used by erstwhile leaders to manipulate their lower-class followers and to influence the course of events. Even their nationalism was negotiable when genuflecting to the United States was in their interest. Time and again, with quotations from their speeches and writings and citations of their actions, Ruíz demonstrates the underlying conservativism of the successful leaders of the rebellion. President Obregón’s stance against land distribution and a labor code while negotiating the Bucareli Agreement represents a culmination of that line of thought. Even such luminaries as Fernando González Roa and Andrés Molina Enríquez emerge as defenders of policy supporting the ideology of an older order. It is impossible to escape the inference that after fifteen years of violence, Mexico was still Mexico, fundamentally governed and directed by the type of men and the methods of ruling that have always characterized Mexico.
One of Ruíz’s major contributions to a study of this type is his introduction of economic materials, particularly for the pre-1912 period. He presents a great deal of data on the burgeoning economy and, most important, emphasizes the key role of the Panic of 1907 in turning Mexico’s growth and prosperity around and setting the stage for the rebellion. (He does make a number of minor errors, however, by referring to such things as the Guggenheims being in Monterrey and Chihuahua steel production, and the Guggenheim Corporation—a nonexistent company.) Rut by his insistence upon the recognition of the importance of this material in precise data rather than generalized statement, Ruíz is pointing a way to adding a new dimension to the study of the revolt.
While this work is an interpretation rather than a history of Mexico, it is full of new material that must be recognized in all future works on the events of the first quarter of the twentieth century.
