[1916 - 1924] United States Occupation
The year is 1916. In the Dominican Republic, the air, thick with the scent of sugarcane and tropical blossoms, is also heavy with political instability. Decades of internal power struggles and mounting foreign debt, particularly to European and American banks, have left the nation vulnerable. Across the Caribbean, the United States watches with growing concern. World War I rages in Europe, and Washington, armed with the assertive logic of the Roosevelt Corollary, fears that a European power—perhaps Germany—might use the Dominican Republic's debt as a pretext to establish a strategic foothold in America's backyard. The Panama Canal, a marvel of modern engineering and a linchpin of American naval strategy, is only a short sail away.
On May 15, 1916, the concerns transformed into action. U.S. Marines landed in Santo Domingo, the oldest European city in the Americas. Their official mission was to protect foreign interests and restore order. To the Dominicans watching from the colonial-era balconies, the arrival of these foreign soldiers in their khaki uniforms was a profound shock, a violation of national sovereignty. President Juan Isidro Jimenes Pereyra refused to submit to the demands of the American minister, William W. Russell, which included U.S. control over the treasury and the military. Resigning in protest, Jimenes left a power vacuum that the United States was all too eager to fill. By November 29, with Dominican political factions unable to agree on a new government that would accept American terms, Rear Admiral Harry S. Knapp formally declared the establishment of a U.S. military government. There was no negotiation; there was only proclamation. The Dominican flag was lowered, and the Stars and Stripes were raised over the Ozama Fortress.
Life under military rule was a paradox of progress and oppression. The American governors, first Knapp and later Thomas Snowden, embarked on an ambitious program of modernization. They saw a nation in disarray and sought to build it in the American image of efficiency. The U.S. military disarmed the populace, a move intended to end the cycle of civil wars but one that also stripped citizens of their ability to resist. They reorganized the nation’s chaotic finances, balanced the budget, and began building. A massive public works program, often carried out with forced, unpaid labor under a controversial 1909 road law, carved hundreds of miles of modern roads and bridges through rugged mountains and dense forests. For the first time, Santo Domingo was connected to the fertile Cibao Valley by a reliable highway. Sanitation systems were improved, and public health initiatives dramatically reduced diseases like yellow fever and malaria. The country's first census was conducted, and the education system was reformed and expanded.
Yet, this progress came at a steep price. The military government imposed strict press censorship, silencing any newspaper or voice that dared to criticize the occupation. Political activity was outlawed. Dominicans who had once navigated a complex, if chaotic, political landscape now found themselves without a say in their own governance. The most visceral resistance emerged in the eastern provinces of El Seibo and San Pedro de Macorís, a region dominated by vast, American-owned sugar plantations. Here, peasants and former local strongmen, dispossessed of their land and dignity, formed guerrilla bands. The Americans called them 'bandoleros', or bandits. To many Dominicans, they were patriots, known as 'gavilleros'. Led by figures like Vicente Evangelista, these men waged a desperate, bloody war against the Marines. They used the dense cane fields and rugged terrain as their sanctuary, launching hit-and-run attacks. The Marines, trained for conventional warfare, responded with a brutal counterinsurgency campaign, establishing concentration camps, or 'reconcentraciones', and engaging in torture and summary executions to extract information. The fighting was fierce, personal, and left a deep scar on the region.
At the heart of the American project was the creation of a new, centralized constabulary force, the Guardia Nacional, established in 1917. The idea was to create a professional, apolitical police force to maintain order after the U.S. withdrawal. It was trained and equipped by the Marines. However, in their search for recruits, the Americans often overlooked the character of the men they enlisted, prioritizing loyalty and discipline above all else. One ambitious young man who joined the Guardia was Rafael Leónidas Trujillo. He rose quickly through the ranks, impressing his American superiors with his ruthless efficiency. The occupation was inadvertently creating the very instrument of a future dictatorship, forging a centralized military force loyal not to a constitution, but to its commander.
By the early 1920s, the tide of opinion began to turn. The brutal tactics used against the 'gavilleros' became an international embarrassment. In the United States, post-war isolationism was taking hold, and the public grew weary of the costly and bloody foreign entanglement. Dominican intellectuals and expatriates, like Francisco Henríquez y Carvajal, lobbied tirelessly in Washington and other world capitals, exposing the abuses of the military government and pleading for the restoration of their nation's sovereignty. The Harding administration, seeking a 'return to normalcy,' began looking for an exit strategy. After lengthy negotiations, the Hughes-Peynado Plan was agreed upon in 1922, outlining a process for the withdrawal of U.S. forces and the holding of free elections.
In July 1924, the last of the U.S. Marines departed. The Dominican flag once again flew alone over Santo Domingo. A provisional government was in place, and Horacio Vásquez would soon be elected president. On the surface, the occupation had left a legacy of tangible improvements: 700 miles of new roads, modern ports, improved sanitation, and a balanced budget. But it also left deeper, more complex legacies. It had accelerated the takeover of Dominican land by American sugar corporations, creating widespread rural poverty. It had fostered a powerful sense of nationalism, born from the shared experience of resisting a foreign power. And most ominously, it left behind the Guardia Nacional, a professionalized tool of coercion that, in the hands of its most cunning officer, Rafael Trujillo, would soon plunge the Dominican Republic into one of the longest and most brutal dictatorships in Latin American history. The eight-year occupation was over, but its shadow would stretch across the nation for decades to come.