Villa and Zapata: A History of the Mexican Revolution

by Frank McLynn

  Disregarding the advice, Huerta sent his `scourge of God' into Morelos. Intending to corner Zapata at Cuautla, the federals approached in three separate columns to encircle him, but the zapatistas disengaged with ease and melted away into Guerrero and Puebla. On 9 May, reinforced to a strength of 5,000 men, Robles began a reign of terror, razing villages, press-ganging `volunteers', and performing summary executions. He ordered all villagers to concentrate in the major towns and decreed that anyone who remained in the pueblos, which he intended to gut and raze, would be executed as a rebel. Once the terrified villagers congregated in the designated towns, Robles packed off all the ablebodied for service against Villa in the north. By June he had deported over 1,ooo. Robles and Huerta would have approved the notorious later maxim: `It was necessary to destroy the village in order to save it.' They intended to create a desert and call it peace.

  From Cuautla Robles sent a cable announcing a `triumph', which seemed to consist of his bombardment of the abandoned zapatista headquarters. He claimed (falsely) to have uncovered a huge cache of arms, but did truly find the bodies of the envoys sent from Huerta whom Zapata had executed. The only result of Robles's absurd boast was that Huerta took him at his word and withdrew troops for operations in the north. The fallacy of Robles's policy is well summed up by John Womack: `He was strong enough only to lay waste, not to secure control.' Many villagers, knowing that their houses would be destroyed, fled into the hills or joined Zapata. Previously neutral towns like Tepoztlan went over to him, and new recruits poured in. Most flamboyant was a battalion of Morelos `Amazons' - a women's armed group from Puente de Ixtla led by a formidable ex-tortilla maker named La China.

  The Morelos planters saw the ruin of all their hopes. They faced the loss of their labour force, either to the rebels or the draft, and meanwhile Robles could still not protect them against Zapata's forced loans. In June Robles transported another 2,000 of the able-bodied, and then another 1,300 in July, leaving women, children and old men in the concentration camps. Within months Huerta's strongman utterly destroyed the state's social fabric. Only immense pressure from the planters led Huerta to agree in late June that they could retain 30 per cent of their labour force; to plug the gaps left by his army's winnowing he promised to bring in 30,000 Japanese immigrants. However, nothing halted the insane devastation by Robles; here, if anywhere, was the true `Attila of the South'. Along with the burnings and the rapes went the mindless destruction and the barefaced theft. Entire farms of pigs and chickens and ranches of horses and cattle were confiscated, the more edible animals being butchered and eaten on the spot.

  In face of this onslaught Zapata retreated, ready to strike back when Robles thought all was quiet. Through the mountains the hardy guerrilla bands roamed, enduring incredible privations, aching with thirst, suffering pneumonia and malaria, rarely eating meat and even then never properly cooked, without so much as a tortilla for days, lacking alcohol, tobacco or medicine, sleeping out in the open, but never giving up. Zapata's concern was not so much for the indomitable morale of his men as it was fear of anarchy and chaos. He had to make sure the disparate rebel groups were coordinated, did not fight each other and, above all, did not alienate villagers by looting. Already the edges of the zapatista movement were fraying and tending to shade off into banditry. Gangs of unsocialised boys, aged ten to twelve, followed in the wake of the guerrillas, shooting, killing and looting even more mindlessly than the adults. The irony was that the outer rim of Zapatismo was beginning to decay even as the inner core, formerly a quasi-anarchistic movement of rural revolt, started to take on some of the features of a political party, complete with intellectuals like Palafox, secretaries, organisers, political technicians and troubleshooters.

  Inevitably, Zapata's intellectuals began to pay more attention to the ideology of the movement. Since many aspects of the Plan of Ayala were out of date - Orozco, for instance, there mentioned as a revolutionary comrade in arms, was now routinely denounced as a traitor and usurper - a revised Plan was drawn up. Additionally, on 30 May 1913 Zapata announced the establishment of a six-man Revolutionary Junta. He was president of the junta, commander-in-chief and first chief of the Revolution; the other members of the ruling council were Genovevo de la 0, Otilio Montano, Felipe Neri, Amador Salazar and the leader's brother Eufemio, with Palafox acting as secretary. This marked the beginning of an attempt to formalise, by rules and regulations, matters that were formerly done spontaneously or informally, particularly those relating to pay, provisions, loans and land grants. In October 1913 the revolutionary army itself was put on a professional footing, complete with hierarchies, officers, and NCOs. A notable step forward was the decree requiring all guerrillas, in whatever band, to obey the orders of officers from another. Here was Zapata trying to break down the old modalities of caudillismo, kinship and clan mentality in favour of a genuinely revolutionary organisation.

  The game of cat and mouse with Robles continued. Robles thought he had scored a great hit by capturing Huautla, a mining settlement, where Zapata had briefly had his headquarters, but Zapata had long since moved on; Robles's ponderous attempts to run his quarry to earth looked like the folly of a madman trying to catch the wind. Zapata even had unlooked-for strokes of luck. Huerta's coup had left the Figueroa brothers out on a limb, uncertain what to do next, but prevented by their pride from joining Zapata. Seemingly lost for answers, they eventually took up arms against Huerta in their own right, but almost immediately, in June 1913, Zapata's old enemy Ambrosio Figueroa was captured by the federals and executed.

  In August 1913 Robles began a three-pronged offensive against Zapata, who simply moved from Morelos into Guerrero and Puebla; with the demise of the Figueroas, his influence in these states was greater than ever. Robles and his generals rode into a deserted Cuautla on iq August to find Zapata gone, and the bodies of Pascual Orozco senior, and two other peace commissioners - foolish men who had not yet learned the lesson of no compromise - still lying where they had been executed. Robles claimed the campaign in Morelos was over, and his stupid boast was at first believed. In fact Zapata was not just at large but stronger than ever. Throughout southern Mexico he sent out his men to raid, wipe out federal outposts and tear up railway track. There were successful, and almost simultaneous, zapatista attacks in Morelos, Mexico State, the Federal District, Puebla, Tlaxcala, Guerrero, Michoacan and even Yucatan. Robles's empty boasts were revealed as the nonsense they were: the most he could ever hope for was to occupy the large towns.

  By this time Huerta was under severe pressure in northern Mexico and could no longer afford expensive failures like those of Robles. He recalled Robles and replaced him with a moderate, General Adolfo Jimenez, who would still exercise the joint mandate of governor and military commander. Jimenez aimed at no more than keeping Morelos ticking over in stasis while Huerta concentrated on the north. The result was stalemate and a breathing space. Zapata had time for matters of high policy and made two decisions: to move his base of operations from Morelos to northern Guerrero, and to disrupt the elections Huerta had called for October. At a junta meeting in southern Morelos, just before the switch of headquarters, two further matters were decided: that the zapatista movement would seek recognition from the USA as legitimate belligerents; and it would actively negotiate for an alliance with Pancho Villa. Slowly but surely, it seemed, the paths of the two greatest revolutionary heroes were converging.

  VILLA AT HIS ZENITH

  The winter of 1913-14 saw Villa master of the state of Chihuahua and at the acme of his fame and influence. The legend of Pancho Villa effectively dates from this time and his immense popularity can be seen as a compound of the personal charisma of the man, his bravery, astuteness, intelligence and military success, the satisfaction he gave to a culture based on machismo, and the appeal he made to the downtrodden sectors of society. Almost a textbook example of a Latin American personalist caudillo, Villa commanded the keenest loyalty and his magnetism drew in the bravest and best from ranch, m
ine and village, quickly turning bands of brigands and guerrilla groups into highly skilled light cavalry. Villa's self-belief, braggadocio and revolutionary voluntarism combined with the quality of his men - tough, mobile, motivated and high in morale - to create a legendary bond between leader and led.

  Always impatient with abstractions, Villa was a personalist at every level. He encouraged his own legend, especially the unique blend of Robin Hood and Don Juan themes, which lost nothing in the telling. In one story he shot a judge in court, in another it was a colonel in a staff meeting, and in yet another it was an Englishman whom he had gunned down before the astonished gaze of other gringos. Skating over the actuality of 1912, he promoted the story that he had shaken his fist in Huerta's face when the general threatened him with execution. Mexican campesinos loved all the tall stories: they liked the fact that he was one of them, that he was locked into a grudge match with the oligarchs and therefore would not desert them. Both for Villa and his followers loyalty was the key concept. He was loyal to other people and expected the same from them; he had an elephantine memory for slights as well as past favours and meted out terrible vengeance on those for whom he bore grudges. He liked to lead from the front, plunging into the ranks if his troops faltered, a familiar stocky figure in khaki and sombrero. To begin with, Villa's every act of daring and bravado was attended with success, but unfortunately these early triumphs eventually led him to believe his own propaganda and think himself truly invincible.

  In these years of his hegemony, scores of observers, both Mexican and foreign, observed Villa and tried to take his measure. Some hated him obsessively, others admired him inordinately. His critics liked to dwell on his pigeon toes, his habit of puckering his face when concentrating, his thin, reedy voice and his hyperemotionalism. Villa and tears were close comrades: sometimes they were tears of joy, sometimes excitement, often anger and occasionally frustration. The American journalist John Reed, who knew him well at this time, reported that he wept at the funeral of Abraham Gonzalez and would become lachrymose if the martyred Maderos, Francisco and Gustavo, were mentioned. At times Villa would dissolve into tears of intellectual frustration or at the realisation of his own mental inadequacy; the man who feared nothing and lived with guns as naturally as other people with their spectacles was sometimes seen to tremble superstitiously when he was in the presence of books.

  Both friend and foe noted his remarkable eyes which they usually compared to those of a savage carnivore. Jose Vasconcelos spoke of `a wild animal who in place of claws had machine-guns and cannon'. One of Villa's secretaries, Martin Guzman, said he was like a jaguar: `His eyes were always restless, mobile as if overcome with terror ... constantly anxious ... a wild animal in his lair, but an animal that defends itself, not one that attacks.' Most observers traced this to his early life as a bandit, forever on the run, always alert, always with one ear cocked. This was why he never slept in the same location twice, moved his sleeping place during the night and dozed fitfully when he did sleep. Often, too, when he could not sleep, he would go out on the prowl to see if he could catch any sentries asleep at their posts; if he did, he executed them there and then with his pistol. He never walked any distance, always rode; he was not just a centaur but a kind of man-pistol, for many witnesses said the same thing: it was difficult to know where his piercing gaze ended and the barrel of his gun began, for they seemed to fuse in space.

  It is curious how independent observers all seemed to reach for the same similes and metaphors when describing Villa. Almost the only animal he was not compared to was a bull, perhaps because he adored bullfighting and loved to measure himself against the horns of a toro. He liked to walk right up to a bull in the arena, slap it, then endure being chased and tossed for half an hour before calling on his comrades to grab the beast and pull it off him. John Reed wrote: `He is the most natural human being I ever saw, natural in the sense of being nearest to a wild animal. He says almost nothing and seems so quiet as to be almost diffident ... If he isn't smiling, he's looking gentle. All except his eyes, which are never still and full of energy and brutality. They are as intelligent as hell and as merciless. The movements of his feet are awkward - he always rode a horse - but those of his hands and arms are extraordinarily simple, graceful and direct. They're like a wolf's. He's a terrible man.'

  Villa never smoked nor drank, but loved singing and dancing and playing the raconteur and yarn-spinner. Like Zapata, he had no interest in money or material things, but unlike him he was devoid of personal vanity, usually dressing in old suits and a cardigan with a sombrero or pith helmet on his head. His travelling headquarters was a red caboose with chintz curtains, fold-up wooden bunks and pictures of dancing girls tacked on a dirty grey wall. He looked prematurely aged, since the travails of a life on the trail had taken their toll; throughout the Revolution he suffered from the ex-bandit's habitual and chronic complaint: rheumatism. Bored by politicians and awestruck by intellectuals, Villa always preferred the rough company of his vaqueros, though he never really trusted anyone. His famous campfire visits, when he used to play Henry V or Napoleon by eavesdropping, then revealing himself to his men and asking to share their food, was only partly a populist gallery touch; he also wanted to be sure he could not be poisoned.

  Above all else, Villa was a warrior, proud of his martial prowess. He could barely understand a life lived without fighting. When he asked John Reed about `the war' in the United States and was told there was none, he was stupefied: `No war at all? How do you pass the time, then?' Although he liked jokes, he could be prissy and humourless when his own status was involved. Reed once saw him being presented with a gold medal by his artillery corps for personal heroism in the field. Villa shambled forward to receive the medal in apparently humble `just folks' mode, dressed in an old khaki uniform with several buttons missing, unshaven, wearing no hat, his hair unkempt, but when he saw the medal, he expressed disappointment: `This is a hell of a little thing to give a man for all that heroism you are talking about.'

  To compensate for his uncertain literacy Villa possessed a phenomenal memory and, it seems, to compensate for his lack of education, he made a virtue out of trying to solve all problems by main force. With no time for theory, ideology or rhetoric, and a penchant for knifing through to the heart of a problem, Villa predictably tried to solve financial problems by simply printing more money. His impatience was his Achilles' heel in military terms. He was the Murat of the Revolution, all dash, brio, swagger and elan. He lacked Obregon's grasp of strategy, but had a talent for logistics and commissariat, so that his staff always contained first-rate quartermasters and railway experts. Always a strange mixture of cruelty and compassion, violence and imagination, vengeance and stoicism, as well as of despair and hope, he was nowhere near as bloodthirsty as most other revolutionary leaders. He shot prisoners if they were federal officers or colorados, but spared the press-ganged conscripts on condition they would join him; in this he was unlike Carranza who always insisted that international conventions of the Hague and Geneva kind did not apply to `rebels' in a civil war.

  As temporary governor of Chihuahua in 1913-14, and later the effective ruler in the state for two years, Villa did a remarkable job. He very quickly restored law and order, and his code was so draconian that he would execute a soldier for stealing a pair of boots. He provided pensions, free food and cheap meat for his followers and their families. He cut the cost of food and other basics, organised distribution and rationing, punished all abuses by death and set his army to work on infrastructure projects - repairing railways, telephones and telegraph lines, running electrification projects, streetcars, the water supply and even slaughterhouses. He also sent his men south to harvest the cotton crop in Durango, although he never attempted to bring Durango under his sway. Politics in that state was too complex, with loyalties split three ways: there were the official villistas, led by Eugenio Aguirre Benavides; there was Tomas Urbina's personal fief; and then there were the powerful Arrieta brothers, loy
al acolytes of Carranza.

  Villa was always fanatical about education, both starry-eyed about teachers and self-conscious about his own lack of learning. He also had genuine compassion for children and decreed that all the hundreds of street urchins be found homes and schools. With his mania about education and homeless children, he hired teachers from Jalisco, vastly expanded the education budget, raised teachers' salaries hugely, built more than zoo new schools and stipulated that there should be an elementary school for each hacienda. He also set up a military college with places for 5,000 students. Even more than land reform, he saw education as Mexico's panacea. He told John Reed he had three priorities: his troops, children and the poor. His idea of utopia was an armed citizenry all attending school, with Mexico as an immense military academy. He envisaged the entire country divided into military colonies, run in a vaguely socialist style, in which men would work for three days and spend another three days on military training. It was the Swiss model of a nation in arms, ready to counter any invasion. His own modest ambition was to live with his companeros in one of these military colonies, raising corn and cattle and spending his time making saddles and bridles.

  Chihuahua in 1913-14, though, was still menaced by Huerta, so Villa had to set aside his dreams of a Mexican Shangri-La. He concentrated instead on economic strength, exporting meat to Cuba, the USA and later to wartime Europe, expropriating the estates and selling the cattle of the oligarchs who had fled, while levying duties on the cattle exports by rancheros who had stayed put. Most of the local elite - landlords, managers and businessmen - had gone, but those who remained received harsh treatment, especially the hated Spanish, who were expelled bag and baggage. Villa, however, always took great care to respect the property and persons of other foreigners, not wishing to provoke US intervention. He had particular problems in persuading the foreign-owned mines to resume production, halted because of the war with Huerta. Employing carrot and stick, he made the mine-owners extravagant promises, while threatening expropriation if they did not resume production. Even after Villa, in an extravagant gesture of truckling to the gringo, had outlawed trade unions among mineworkers, the foreign owners largely did not respond and decided to call Villa's bluff.