Book Review
Huerta:
A Political Portrait
by
Michael C. Meyer
Mike
Austin
HST 436
May 12,
1993
Michael Meyer had a mission: to rescue Victoriano Huerta from historical
oblivion. He had a good reason for doing this, for his subject was the victim of
scholarly neglect. Even today, Mexican historiography regards Huerta's
presidency as something of an interregnum — that is, if it does not overlook
it entirely. According to Meyer it
is not uncommon for studies of this period to mention Huerta only in passing
or only as a link between Madero and Carranza. Meyer found it more than curious
that Huerta had been so treated, and he devotes much of his book to explaining
why. This reviewer detected a subtle, almost invisible,
bias toward Huerta, which is perhaps only fitting considering the treatment
historians have given him.
Like many of those who made their mark on Mexican history Huerta began
his career in the Colegio Militar, assisted
by none other than Benito Juárez. In 1893 he fought for the Díaz regime
against the revolt of Canuto Neri, and it was then that he acquired a
reputation for brutality that would follow him for the rest of his life. The
incident that lead to this, as with so much else in Huerta's career, is shrouded
in controversy. Some rebel troops, believing themselves under a government
sanctioned amnesty, surrendered to Huerta, who promptly executed them. The
response Huerta gave to his critics was a common one: he was simply
"following orders." Huerta's career was undamaged by this affair;
indeed, Meyer argues that he was encouraged by its outcome and so came to
rely more and more on the ruthless use of force.
Huerta reinforced his unseemly reputation both during the war against the
Yaqui and the revolt in Guerrero, burning villages and executing rebels. It was
during the Guerrero revolt that Huerta met Bernardo Reyes, who was then (1901)
Díaz' Minister of War. The paths of these two men crossed many times throughout
the Mexican Revolution. Reyes authorized a Brigadier Generalship for Huerta
for his service in the Yaqui war; in return, Huerta supported Reyes' candidacy
for vice-president in 1904. Unfortunately for them, Díaz had someone else
chosen for the office, and Reyes was forced to retire temporarily from
national office. As for Huerta, he went so far as to suggest a coup against Díaz,
but Reyes politely declined, perhaps knowing that it was not yet time for his
and Huerta's place in the sun.
In 1910 Díaz was in need of trained military men in his struggle with
Madero, and Huerta was of course available; he even escorted the fallen caudillo
to Veracruz one year later. Huerta was not finicky about his boss, and in no
time was sent by interim president de la Barra into Morelos to subdue the wily
Zapata. At first Huerta used
standard military tactics against
the guerrilla leader, but when these proved remarkably ineffective he reverted
to the methods he knew so well: counterinsurgency, search and destroy and free fire
zones. Zapata responded
with an offensive of his own on the border of the Federal District, which
caused Madero to accuse Huerta of incompetence and move for his recall. Madero
also had another reason to remove him from power: the general's relationship
with Reyes who was even then scheming in San Antonio.
Here then was the start of the conflict between Madero and Huerta that
would only end with the death of one and the exile of the other.
The revolt of Orozco made matters worse. Madero chose General González
Salas to deal with it, but the battle of Rellano forced
his hand and he appointed Huerta to head the federal forces. Madero could
not resist meddling into military matters, however, and even went out of his way
to insult his commander by refusing his recommendations concerning pay and
promotions for the troops. These petty slights were entirely unnecessary and
they displayed Madero's ignorance of military affairs. It seems unbelievable
that he did not realize that his government and his life were becoming
increasingly dependent upon an army that was in the hands of a man whom he had
insulted and criticized.
Felix Díaz brought all this to a head. It was his revolt that lead
directly to the Decena Tragica. Though
imprisoned in Mexico City, Díaz, along with fellow prisoner Bernardo Reyes,
opened lines of communication with other conspirators who began a rebellion in
the capital. Huerta at this point was still under Madero's command and so had no
part in the initial planning of the insurgents. As the "tragic ten
days" wore murderously on Madero, looking for salvation, appointed Huerta
as commander of the loyal troops. This decision was a fateful one; no sooner had
Huerta received command than he conspired with the rebels to rid Mexico of
whom he considered a naive, incompetent dreamer. Madero was arrested along with
his hapless vice-president Pino Suárez, and both were tossed in prison. Huerta
then arranged a series of constitutional niceties that gave him supreme
authority over the Mexican state.
What happened next ended any chance that Huerta
might have had to insure the success of his presidency: the brutal
assassination of Madero and Pino Suárez. Meyer, doing some fine detective work,
pins the blame for the killings where most have always suspected that it would
lie: at the doorstep of Victoriano
Huerta. Meyer also makes the case that, except for this outrage, Huerta might
have had a successful term of office and could have brought the Revolution to
an end. For instance: Carranza, even though his mentor Madero was in jail at the
time, wrote a letter to Huerta exploring the possibility of cooperation with the
new government. Had this transpired, the Revolution would have ended then and
there. Instead, after the assassinations Carranza absolutely refused to have
anything to do with the Huerta regime, and worked feverishly for its destruction.
On such a rocky basis did Huerta begin the difficult task of governing Mexico.
Huerta had more than Carranza to deal with: Zapata was still active in
Morelos, Villa was on the move in Chihuahua,
Obregón and Calles were conspiring in Sonora — all told there were
thirteen states in open revolt against his government. We should keep this in
mind when we read of Huerta's pledge to restore "peace — cost what it
may." He meant exactly what he said, and so he began a massive
militarization of Mexico. Carranza upped the ante by decreeing the execution
of anyone who fought for the Huerta regime. This, added to Huerta's inclination
to ruthlessness, dragged Mexico into a spiral of violence never before or
since seen in this hemisphere.
Huerta had more than just half of his countrymen fighting his government,
he had the American president Wilson against him as well. Wilson loathed Huerta
and did more than just long for his overthrow: he actively sought to bring it
about. And so Wilson, architect of the League of Nations, lover of
democracy and moralizer to the entire world, invaded Mexico and thereby
broke the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe that the United States itself had brokered.
This miserable incident, especially when added to the seizure of Texas, the
theft of one-half of Mexico and Ambassador Henry Wilson's machinations during
the Madero government, united all of Mexico against the Americans. Even this,
however, was not enough to save Huerta. Surrounded by enemies on all sides,
the Mexican dictator made his way to the coast and sailed into exile. He spent
the remainder of his life plotting to return and commiserating with the bottle,
finally dying of alcoholism in 1916 in El Paso .
What should we make of Victoriano
Huerta? He is vilified in Latin American history, and usually seen as a
throwback to the Porfiriato. His
government is portrayed as a brutal interval between the "noble"
Madero and the "constitutionalist" Carranza. Meyer has a different
answer: Huerta was a reformer whose regime looked forward to the "era of
the presidents" rather than backward toward Díaz and Santa Ana. Keeping in
mind that Huerta believed that any government's first duty was to maintain
order — as true then as it is now — Meyer
reveals that Huerta, even while militarizing Mexico, spent more on social
programs than did either Madero or Carranza. Huerta looked favorably on the interests
of labor, was not opposed to the subdivision of haciendas, raised the salaries
of teachers (which Carranza, upon
seizing power, immediately lowered) and even drafted a proposal to nationalize
the oil industry. Truth be told, the reforms of Huerta were more advanced and
farsighted than those of his predecessor and those of his successor. That they
occurred under a regime that never knew a moment without rebellion is in itself
a considerable accomplishment.
Well, (you might ask), what about Huerta's well deserved reputation for
political violence? Does not that alone disqualify him from the role as a
reformer? From this charge there can be no escape, except that in fairness to
Huerta it must be said that no Mexican leader of that time shrank from the use
of terror when it was judged to be useful. We must recall Madero, who started
the Revolution and whose incompetence allowed it to take an unprecedented path
of violence and destruction, and his actions against Zapata. Carranza's
promise to execute all of those who fought for Huerta, his proscription of all
members of the Huerta regime and his assassination of Zapata —
remembering, of course, how he had howled after the assassination of his
favorites — certainly puts
him in Huerta's class. And let us not forget that heroic breaker of treaties
and invader of Tampico, Woodrow Wilson, who, after railing against Huerta's use
of assassination, himself arranged the assassinations of five Mexican
exiles, including Pascual Orozco, who had been plotting to return to Mexico.
Perhaps if Madero, Carranza and Wilson were not so good, then Huerta was not so
bad.
So where does the truth about Victoriano Huerta lie? Would the reader be
upset if I said that Huerta was a true son of the Revolution whose regime was
part of a steady stream of revolutionary reform and progress through Madero,
Carranza, Obregón, Calles and Cárdenas? Or that Huerta was neither a
reincarnation of Díaz nor a
counterrevolutionary who sought to undue the Revolution? Or that the primary
reason he his so despised is because he caused the assassination of Madero,
after which he was a marked man who could not possibly do any good for Mexico
— the fact of his reforms be damned? And dare I add that Huerta was supported
by that most unrevolutionary of institutions, the Catholic Church, which would
by itself have branded Huerta — as indeed he was branded by Carranza — a
reactionary? What good revolutionary could survive that
charge?
A final note: Meyer claims that if it were possible to arrange a dinner
with either Madero or Huerta, that he would choose Madero even though he might
be forced to eat wheat germ and drink carrot juice. I must disagree: I loathe
wheat germ, detest carrot juice and
have little tolerance for New Age, astrology-loving dreamers like Madero.
Besides,
Huerta would have plenty of war stories
to tell, and no doubt he would offer me a good deal of whiskey.
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