'From Ballots to Bullets'

Today the people of the Dominican Republic will participate in what promises to be the second "free" election in their island's history. The first one, held in 1962, made Professor Juan Bosh President of the Republic. Within seven months, a military coup made him a private citizen again.

It is not enough, in short, for an election to be "free"; it must also be binding. The winner must be able to exercize the sovereignty which popular mandate bestows upon him. The important question to ask about today's vote is not: "Will it be free;" except for isolated and almost unavoidable instances of corruption and coercion, it probably will be. The important question is: "What does the election mean?"

The answer is: very little. Juan Bosch captured the problem several weeks ago in a typical epigram: "These elections are a fine solution for the U.S. but none at all for the Dominican Republic." Free elections allow CBS reporters, as one did last week, to enthuse about "the transition from ballots to bullets." This alliterative interpretation overlooks the fact that there is absolutely no guarantee that this election will change Dominican political realities any more than did the 1962 exercize.

Now, as then, real power resides not with the people, but with interest groups far outside the increasingly angry and nationalistic consensus. The largest landowners and old-family capitalists still hold the balance of domestic economic power. The American exporters and AID maintain overall control of the economy, and of any government seeking to avoid utter poverty and bankruptcy. Finally, the reactionary and fabulously oversized military presents any elected government with a virtually unmovable obstacle to genuine social change.

Bosch, defeated by these forces once before, is far from enthusiastic about winning today: "I want not to be President... I run for there is no one else... What does it mean to be President? Nothing. The President has no guns."

Here is the crux of the problem: "The President has no guns." A year ago, this was not the case. The "constitutionalist" revolution of April, 1965 gave the Dominican people their first, and perhaps their last, chance to break out of the political prison constructed for them by Trujillo and his heirs. The urban populace--in Santo Domingo and Santiago and San Francisco--armed itself, split and then defeated the military, and came within hours of constructing a new ruling coalition: liberal lawyers and professors, progressive businessmen, small peasants, students, and workers.

But the U.S. panicked, remembered "Cuba," Josts its senses, and flooded the country with troops. Claiming to be "neutral," the U.S. contingent promptly reinforced the retreating and broken right-wing of the Dominican military. The revolution, so near victory, was first blunted, then squeezed into the older portions of Santo Domingo, and finally forced to surrender. The old clique of generals, so near defeat, was brought back to life with rapid infusions of weapons, money, men, and encouragement. Finally, after the political "balance" had been firmly re-established, the U.S. created a provisional government, set a date for elections, and withdrew its peace force to a few strategic cities around the country.

It was a strange kind of "balance." Since the formation of the provisional government, the U.N. has reported that over 200 constitutionalist leaders have been murdered by right-wing assassins, while there has been almost no violence against the right-wing. The U.S. has done nothing about these murders. All of the constitutionalist officers have been forced into diplomatic exile; only two of the right-wing officers have left the country. The U.S. refuses to see anything "irregular" in this. Several times the provisional government has combed Santo Domingo to disarm constitutionalist civilians, though even the communist factions--which are very small--have foresworn recourse to violence. Yet the U.S. continues to supply the Dominican military. Recently the "neutral" peace force began training the Dominican army in antiguerilla methods.

Again a Bosch epigram cuts to the essence of the matter: "I have long known the Dominican Republic could not have democracy without the United States; now I see we cannot have democracy with the United States." For democracy is more than a technically free election. It is a way of running a society. Until the Republic can build a democratic society, it cannot enjoy a genuinely democratic government. And there will be no democratic society until the U.S. ceases supporting and financing all the anti-democratic interest groups in that society.

U.S. policy toward the Republic has been based largely on fear and stupidity. The few exceptions offer little hope for the future. President Kennedy gave the first Bosch government great financial and moral support; but many Dominicans who ought to know insist that the CIA and the American military attaches were simultaneously encouraging Dominican generals to upset the Bosch government. The CIA and the attaches easily outdid the American president in this tussle, and there was indeed a coup.

Some American diplomats still favor a policy of reform and democratization. It was, for example, Ellsworth Bunker, U.S. Ambassador to the OAS, who convinced Bosch to run once more for the presidency. But the American military continues to bolster all those Dominican interests which would make a Bosch victory hollow. And the State Department exerts little effort to disguise its support for Dr. Balaguer, the conservative candidate in this election.

Polite critics of the State Department say that the U.S. too often prefers "order to reform" in Latin America. This is too generous. In the Dominican Republic at least, the U.S. has been, and continues to be, willing to foresake everything even order, to avoid reform. A Balaguer victory would mean chaos. The April revolution would recommence in Santo Domingo, and perhaps elsewhere. The democratic parties--the PRD and the PRSC--would be thrown into turmoil by an agony of conscience. What has all this to do with "order?"

The only way out, if one remains, is a Bosch victory. He is irrascible and discouraged. His administration no doubt would be untidy and uncertain. He would confront almost impossible odds. But, with tactful and intelligently directed U.S. help, the poet-president might led his nation out of its decades-long political nightmare. That the U.S. is unlikely to give such aid, or even to remain neutral toward Bosch, reveals once again the intellectual poverty and political obtuseness of American foreign policy in Latin America.