An American magazine explains what America is doing for Haiti

On 22 August 1925 Arthur Ruhl published a defence of the American presence in Current History under the title what America is doing for Haiti. His case was the standard one. The marines had ended the cycle of coups, American engineers were building roads and hospitals, American accountants had put the customs house in order, and a country unable to manage itself was being handed the apparatus of a modern state. Almost every specific claim was true. The roads existed. The method of the argument was to answer a question nobody in Haiti was asking. Haitians were asking who had authorised the occupation, why the legislature had been dissolved, why peasants had been press ganged onto road gangs, and when the Americans would go. Ruhl answered by listing improvements. The article matters because pieces like it were the whole of what most Americans ever read about Haiti, and they set the terms on which American opinion judged the occupation for the next decade.

As chancellor of the exchequer in 1925 Winston Churchill returned Britain to the gold standard at the prewar rate of four dollars and eighty six cents to the pound. The rate was too high. It made British exports dear and imports cheap and threatened to drain the Bank of England of gold. Benjamin Strong, governor of the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, reasoned that cheaper money in America would stop the flow of gold from London to New York and steady an international financial system still recovering from the war, so the Federal Reserve flooded the American banks with liquidity in 1927. His reasoning was sound and the side effect was enormous. The same cheap money financed the speculative borrowing that carried the New York stock market into the sky. Hoover called Strong a mental annex to Europe, which is also a statement about where he thought the blame belonged.

Competition for work and for access to the colonial economy hardened ethnic identity, because solidarity in a scramble means sorting people into groups and caricaturing the ones you are outside. The mines had begun with migrant labour: men on short contracts who came from the countryside, took the wages and went home, described as urban tribesmen raiding the industrial economy. From the 1920s the contracts lengthened and companies settled workers with their families near the shafts, which produced a permanent urban working class. Johannesburg was the largest case, built on gold. Lagos, Leopoldville, Nairobi and Salisbury grew through the same years on people walking in from the countryside. Reid calls this migration the most important single theme in Africa's modern social history. New arrivals kept village ties and rebuilt rural custom in town, and competition kept ethnic loyalty useful. The towns also mixed everyone together, and intermarriage and shared work produced urban cultures of their own. Women found in them some distance from the authority of the homestead.

Sir Francis Watts reported on agricultural conditions in Dominica in 1927 and recommended a Peasant Information Bureau under an appointed Peasant Adviser, charged with supervising the cultivation and export of crops grown by small proprietors. The bureau opened the following year and one of the island's most prominent planters, J. C. MacIntyre, took the post of Adviser under the local executive. On 17 October 1928 the administrator asked the Colonial Office for permission to move five hundred pounds from Loan Board funds to the bureau to set up a Vegetables Growers Association. It was granted. MacIntyre drafted the by laws himself. The associates would be the peasants, whom he described as more or less illiterate and whose attendance at meetings he called undesirable; they would be represented by the heads of their local centres, and the Adviser would sit as chairman, treasurer and secretary at once. Ninety years after abolition the word peasant was finally respectable in Dominica, and the first institution built around it kept a planter at its head.