Chapter 14 of 62 · Strictly Confidential: The Private Volker Fund Memos of Murray N. Rothbard by Murray N. Rothbard
10. Review of J. Fred Rippy, Globe and Hemisphere
10. Review of J. Fred Rippy, Globe and Hemisphere
February 21, 1959
Mr. Kenneth S. Templeton
William Volker Fund
Dear Ken:
J. Fred Rippy’s Globe and Hemisphere26 is not only a superb book, it is “doubly” superb on many levels; for above and beyond its subject matter, it indirectly raises questions about historiography that are vital to all of us.
After a slow start—where Rippy wanders around among lengthy hortatory quotations about Hemisphericsolidarity, and then shifts to statistics of American investment in Latin America—he builds up his story in an excellent and controlled manner, ending in a hard-hitting crescendo. Building up his case carefully out of highly illuminating and well-researched examples, Rippy leads up to his general principles, which are clearly and very strongly opposed to economic foreign aid (indeed, all except clear military-security aid).
Rippy attacks the support of foreign socialist governments (e.g., Bolivia) via foreign aid, the wastes and boondoggling in government “investments” (extremely enlightening chapters on the Inter-American Highway, on the Rama Road boondoggle in Nicaragua, and on the Rubber fiasco—and here, as elsewhere, Rippy displays high courage in exposing the phony alibis of “national defense” and military secrecy—the highway robbery of Latin American governments in exacting tribute from, and regulating, our tuna-fishing fleets, etc.) all at the expense of the long-suffering American taxpayer. Rippy continually shows his complete awareness of the plight of the American taxpayer and ridicules the idea that compulsory “charity” can fulfill the ideals of benevolence implied by voluntary charity.
Rippy also explodes the myth, and beautifully so, that Latin America has in some way been shortchanged by American aid—actually, it has been proportionally perhaps more heavily aided. Rippy bitterly exposes—in a fine combination of scholarship and a willingness to call a spade a spade—the mooching attitude of the Latin American countries out to milk the American taxpayer for every cent they can get.
He also shows, in a thoughtful chapter on the Galindez-Trujillo case, that foreign aid in itself is interventionist and, therefore, clashes with the ideal of nonintervention in Latin America. For if an American government gives aid to a Latin dictator, it is really propping him up, whereas if it shifts aid from him to a “democratic” country, it is intervening on the other side. Thus, and in other ways (as when he deals with pressure groups demanding foreign aid), Rippy shows how the intervention of the State creates insoluble conflicts between different groups, each of which wants to replace the other on the gravy train. His excellent chapter on U.S. sugar policy is good evidence of this, with various groups warring over sugar quotas. On sugar, and implicitly other tariff questions, Rippy indicates his sympathy with the American consumer, and therefore his opposition to these special-privilege schemes.
Again and again, Rippy defends free enterprise and opposes the growth of statism and governmental subsidy and aid, and presents specific cases where these apply. And he ends by reminding us that opposition to socialism is just as important as anti-Communism, and that foreign aid will really have the effect of promoting rather than hampering Communism, increasing as it does the role and importance of government in the economic life of the aided countries.
Further, Rippy advocates pulling out of expensive overseas bases where countries can blackmail us for further aid, and retiring to a continental missile defense at home; and he opposes policies of inflation, farm price support, etc.
There are jewels on almost every page and even in the footnotes. A few examples: the shocking spectacle of American politicians applauding the Marxist-Trotskyite confiscation of the Patino and other tin mines in Bolivia, with Senator Humphrey constantly calling for “jail” for the Patinos. There is the deflating of the pretenses of the “Voice of America,” the mendacious propaganda of bureaucrats calling for “just a little more” aid from Congress year after year, the attack on our aid to the Marxist Bolivian government, the exposure of the Somoza “holdup” of American aid, etc., etc.
If this were all, this would still be a fine book, an excellent example of history as sound principle illustrated in a group of important, neglected, illuminating concrete cases. But there is more; for there is one reason why I regard J. Fred Rippy as one of the best of present-day historians, and this raises a basic problem in current thought. For some reason, almost all other “right-wing” historians, economists, or observers of the current scene have considered it somehow “Marxist” or anticapitalist or perhaps just plain impolite and bad mannered, to point out the probable true motivations for government actions and for the pressures for those actions. Now this, I have maintained for a long time, abdicates the responsibility of the historian to weigh and estimate, as best he can, the motivations for different actions. But because of this abdication, the field for this realistic investigation has been left to the distortions of the “muckrakers” and the far greater distortions of the Marxists. As a result, the common charge against sound, free-enterprise economists that they are “apologists for business interests” is invested with a good deal of truth.
Here is what I mean: let us take the case, for example, of an import quota on zinc. The historian who simply records the fact that the government put a quota on zinc, and who gives only the reason enunciated in the canned press releases of the government, would be abdicating his responsibility to the truth and distorting the true picture of what occurred. He is required to add that the pressure for this measure came from the zinc manufacturers. Now in the case of tariffs, this is universally recognized. But, for some reason, other historians and especially “right-wingers” stop there, and refuse to pursue the more indirect and subtle, if just as important, forms of subsidy.
For example, take the Marshall Plan (or foreign aid in general). In addition to the humanitarian and Marxist influences for the plan, there was also the economic interest of export firms who benefit from such government aid. In fact, foreign aid is, in good part, a subsidy extracted from American taxpayers and handed over to favored, selected export firms. Yet, how many historians have mentioned, for example, that the chief author of the Marshall Plan was Undersecretary of State Will Clayton, whose cotton broker firm of Anderson, Clayton and Co. received the lion’s share of the cotton orders from the Marshall Plan after it was adopted? Now, perhaps such uncovering of economic interests is impolite, but it is necessary if the reader is to be told the truth of what really happened.
The great thing about J. Fred Rippy—and one that sets him, as far as I know, above all other current historians—is that he is not afraid to dig for the camouflaged economic motive. No other historian has pinpointed this so exactly. Thus, Rippy shows in this book how foreign aid has been promoted by the export industries, under the guise of altruism, national interest, etc., thus to mulct the American taxpayer.
In short, Rippy really believes in free enterprise, enterprise that is free, and not aided or subsidized by government—and he is willing and courageous enough to dig for the subsidy and to name the men who are engaged in it. Thus, he shows the economic interests behind the American propaganda drive for the boondoggling Inter-American Highway, promoted in large part by American automobile manufacturers, and by American construction companies, all of which stand to benefit by this subsidy. And, furthermore, Rippy recognizes that the bureaucracy itself (which he clearly despises in large part) has its own economic and power interests to promote, and that joined in this bureaucratic interest is the interest of the kept intellectuals who work and propagandize for the various programs. Rippy thus shows that joined with these auto and construction interests were the bureaucrats of the Public Road Department, etc.
Rippy also has the high courage to investigate who the bureaucrats actually are, and to see if they have any personal ties with the economic interests that they are engaged in subsidizing. This is another very important phase of historical inquiry that is completely neglected by almost all historians (Will Clayton is an example.)
Thus, Rippy cites the case of Henry Holland, Assistant Secretary of State, who led the government in urging aid to the Marxist government of Bolivia. Recently, this government has mysteriously veered from its socialist course to the extent of giving concessions to oil companies, and Rippy adds that Holland is an attorney for oil interests and that he might be investigated by Congress for improper influence. These are the things that historians must ferret out, and particularly right-wingers, if they would prove their devotion to their own professed cause.
After all, the sound, free-enterprise economist is not simply in favor of business, or big business; he only favors them insofar as their actions are made on the free market. Insofar as they lobby for subsidies (direct and indirect) for themselves at the expense of raids on the taxpayer and crippling of their competitors, the sound economist must oppose them, and the sound historian exposes them.
Other examples of Rippy’s magnificent and courageous tough-mindedness: his explanation of much pro-Trujillo sentiment by Catholic congressmen as motivated by common Catholicism; of Rep. Multer’s pro-Trujillo views as motivated by approval of Trujillo’s pro-Jewish, pro-Zionist policy; of the lead taken in favoring special foreign aid to Latin America by Florida’s Senators Holland and Smathers as motivated by the large number of votes of Latin American naturalized citizens in Florida; of Senator Saltonstall’s eagerness for foreign aid to Latin America as reflecting the heavy investments in these countries by Boston bankers.
One point should be cleared up: it is wrong to think that such historiography is demeaning because it imputes “low” motives to human actors. In the first place, the “high” motives are trumpeted far and wide by the actors themselves; the “low” motives are precisely the ones that need to be uncovered. Furthermore, the historian cannot penetrate into the mind and heart of every single individual; no one can. It is possible that the zinc manufacturer urging a quota has really no interest in the quota as a subsidy, that he is only concerned for the “public welfare”; it is possible that Will Clayton had no idea that Marshall Plan funds would be funneled into his own company, and had no interest if he did know. Possible, but highly improbable.
If we assume that people are rational, in any degree, we must assume that they will not be ignorant of their economic interest; if we assume that religion is important in men’s lives, then we will entertain the hypothesis that mutual Catholicism or Judaism will affect political actions. At least we will look further on these hypotheses, and uncover evidence, as Rippy does.
It is because of Rippy’s tough-mindedness, his realism and courageous devotion to truth, his failure to be intimidated by the rarity of his realism among free-enterprisers, that this book reaches an especially high rank and is such a great achievement.
Strictly Confidential: The Private Volker Fund Memos of Murray N. Rothbard
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