Hatred for US capitalism is nothing new. In 1962, the following excerpt appeared in an article in the New York Times with the headline: “Leftists in Bogotá Hurl Eggs at US Official.” “Teodoro Moscoso, administrator of the United States Alliance for Progress program, was the target of a barrage of stones, tomatoes and eggs today while touring a housing development being built with Alliance funds.” “The culprits,” says the Times, were “left-wing extremists,” who were “captured quickly by the police.”

The Alliance for Progress was the creation of President John Kennedy and his brain trust. The plan, revealed by Kennedy at a meeting of the Organization of the American States in Punta del Este, Uruguay, in 1961, sought to counter the appeal of revolutionary policies, such as those adopted in Cuba under the leadership of Fidel Castro. The plan was simple. Pump money into highly visible reform projects all over Latin America and advertise unrealistic and unworkable objectives, such as a 2.5 percent increase in per capita income, in exchange for compliance with US economic and political goals.

Other objectives included the establishment of “democratic” governments, more equitable income distribution and land reform. Attractive though these goals seemed to a few liberal leaders in Latin America, such as Alberto Lleras Camargo of Colombia and President Juscelino Kubitzchek of Brazil, most discerned a more sinister objective in Kennedy’s plan. Although the original charter of the Alliance downplayed the role of the US military, the Alliance promised US military and police assistance to counter Communist subversion.

Indeed, Kennedy had reason for concern. As Secretary of State Robert McNamara said countries undergoing development were “seething cauldrons of change,” and that nations in the Southern Hemisphere were “pregnant with violence.”

Che Guevara, present at the Punta del Este meeting, saw through the humanitarian veneer of the Alliance immediately when he noted: Even in the remote event of the $20 billion promise being kept, the “Alliance for Progress” would use this amount to finance a number of imperialist enterprises so they can develop their activities throughout Latin America, whether acting directly as foreign enterprises or as joint ventures, in this way continuing to take in fabulous profits. Guevara was right, of course. The initial funds went to construction companies with deep ties to the US, hence the hostile response of the radical students in Bogotá.

By 1962, the ugly side of the Alliance was already evident in Guatemala. When demonstrators took to the streets in March 1962 to protest the US-led economic policies of General Miguel Ydigoras Fuentes, US and US-trained military police suppressed the protests and set about retraining the Guatemalan army to handle future uprisings. By the end of 1962, the United States had a fully stocked military base operated by US Special Forces (Green Berets) recruited from Puerto Rico and Mexico to make the operation less Norteamericano in appearance.

When Ydigoras proved less than fully compliant with US counterinsurgency goals, a US-backed coup deposed him in March 1963. The message was clear. Latin Americans must play by US rules or suffer dire consequences.

Elsewhere, Alliance housing projects and schools failed to bring promised surges in literacy, better health facilities and general prosperity. When confronted about the apparent failure of several Alliance programs, Robert McNamara blamed Latin Americans, suggesting that lagging progress owed to the 3 percent per year growth in the Latin American population. The result was a stipulation making population control a condition for continued Alliance aid. Said Uruguayan poet and journalist Eduardo Galeano, “in Latin America it is more hygienic and effective to kill guerrilleros in the womb than in the mountains or the streets.”

The Alliance continued under President Lyndon Johnson, but changed its character. Concerned more with Communists in Vietnam than in Latin America, Johnson backed away from Alliance humanitarian goals and increased the use of military force in suppressing perceived revolutionary movements.

Thomas Mann was Johnson’s henchman for Latin American Affairs. Mann suggested that right-wing military regimes be tolerated, even encouraged, if they followed a counterrevolutionary line. His doctrine accepted murderous pro-US regimes as essential in the fight against true revolution. His philosophy was simple: “I know my Latinos. They understand only two things, a buck in the pocket and a kick in the ass.”

With the eyes of the American public turned to Vietnam, the Johnson administration sanctioned the training of more special forces, complete with bombs, napalm and modified P-51 fighter planes, to find and destroy guerrilla bases in Latin America. Called “free fire zones” in Vietnam, these “zonas libres” became playgrounds for US-trained death squads.

In 1973, the Organization of American States permanently dissolved the committee that created and administered the Alliance for Progress. US economic “aid” would take other forms in the future. However, the US military presence in Latin America remains a permanent feature of the aid program, which, despite idealistic aims, damaged Latin America.

The Alliance promoted the accumulation of foreign (US) capital, increasing rather than relieving poverty in the areas where Alliance aid was most prevalent. It neglected the interests of working people and peasants, and decreased living standards across the board. The percent of the population living below the poverty level increased from 25 percent in 1964 to 50 percent in 1973. Nevertheless, the US military presence and hold on the Latin American economy grew by leaps and bounds.

What did US policy makers learn from the Alliance for Progress? Not much, apparently. The hostile reception to US “aid” in Iraq and other parts of the world sounds all too familiar. The US war on progress continues.

--Anna Bates teaches college history in Michigan.