The origin of Mexican Sinophobia during the early twentieth century has been an issue of debate among historians. In Chino, Jason Chang traces the formation of a Chinese racial construct in Mexico, arguing that the origin of Mexican Sinophobia lies in its various utilities for Mexican politicians within different political and temporal contexts. He shows that antichinismo, or anti-Chinese racism, served as a vehicle for Mexican politicians to racially ‘improve’ the Indian race, implement political reforms and consolidate the power of the post-revolutionary government. He thus provides a corrective to the current historiography, which has largely deemed the origin of antichinismo an ineluctable result of the fact that the Chinese did not fit into the cosmic mestizo racial construct developed by José Vasconcelos in La raza cósmica (Agencia Mundial de Librería, 1925). Overall, Chino evinces that state power is the ultimate propeller of antichinismo, superimposing its agenda upon the ideology of the mestizo nation rather than vice versa.
Chino portrays the utility of Chinese Mexicans and antichinismo at various stages of Mexican political history. During the Porfirian era, the Mexican government began to use Chinese labourers as motores de sangres (engines of blood) to develop the country's northern regions. In the process, however, the Chinese became inadvertent accomplices to Porfirio Díaz's anti-Indian policies by building infrastructures such as railroads that enabled the Mexican military to enter Indian territories. Gradually, as many Mexican politicians began to view Indians and Mexican peasants as agents of modernisation, the Chinese became ‘a crucial obstacle to the realization of state-sponsored self-colonization’ (p. 86). It was in this context that anti-Chinese rhetoric began to emerge, promoted by Mexican politicians as a necessity for the public good and health. After the ousting of Díaz, the Mexican revolutionary government utilised antichinismo as a uniting force to legitimise its raison d’être, binding Mexicans of diverse social classes, ethnicities and both genders through collective racial violence dubbed by Chang as ‘grotesque assemblies’ (p. 103). Sinophobia at this point, as Chang argues, did not intersect with mestizo nationalism – the Mexicans did not attack the Chinese due to their support of a mestizo nation, but rather as a rejection of Díaz's regime and his colonisation policy.
Over time, the antichinistas, or the anti-Chinese activists, elevated antichinismo to the national level in the 1920s, portraying it as ‘a virtuous rationale for government authority’ (p. 126). From then on, antichinismo became an integral part of the mestizo nationalism that slowly incorporated Indians as a part of the post-revolutionary state. Meanwhile, conflicts between the republican Chee Kung Tong (CKT) and the nationalist Kuomintang (KMT) further exacerbated the negative image of Chinese Mexicans, incentivising antichinistas to become more active. As racialisation of the Chinese intensified, antichinismo became more widespread across Mexico. Seizing the opportunity, politicians such as Abelardo Rodríguez advertised their anti-Chinese stance to enhance their reputation as true patriots. Mexican women also played an important role in promoting antichinismo. Viewed as guardians of the Mexican mestizo race, they utilised antichinismo to gain rights otherwise denied to them.
Antichinismo became institutionalised in 1931 when a group of congressional members named Bloque Nacional Revolucionario (National Revolutionary Block, BNR) established the Campaña Nacionalista (Nationalist Campaign) which worked closely with the Partido Nacional Revolucionario (National Revolutionary Party, PNR). As members of the Campaña Nacionalista gained ascendancy in Mexican politics, antichinismo was transformed from a largely grass-roots movement to a movement with official endorsement. The antichinistas thus ‘moved with the confidence of an ordained crusade’ (p. 175). Fuelled by the spread of eugenics and popular discontent with unemployment, antichinistas systematically wreaked havoc on the Chinese through expulsion, lynching, property expropriation and labour quotas.
Chino is a timely work that convincingly characterises Mexican Sinophobia as a useful tool for various Mexican political actors rather than as a by-product of mestizo nationalism, as previous historiography has assumed. The book does a great job of contextualising the development of a Chinese racial construct within the broader scope of Mexican society at various phases of its development, and takes into consideration the multifaceted political transformation that Mexico in each phase experienced. Moreover, Chang's exhaustive research is meritorious as he utilises broad chronicle sources not just from the revolutionary period, but also from the colonial period, and considers the modern-day implication of antichinismo in Mexico. He thus bridges the gap between the formation of antichinismo throughout diverse phases of Mexican history and presents the development of anti-Chinese racism as a crucial lynchpin in various competing ideologies within and surrounding the revolutionary period. Lastly, Chang shows that there exists an inextricable relationship between Indian and Chinese racialisation. He adroitly connects the simultaneous formation of the state ideology of Indian incorporation and antichinismo, aptly contextualising the latter into the tumultuous Mexican revolutionary history.
Yet, by abstracting the Chinese Mexican as a racial figure, Chino objectifies the Chinese and omits the humanness that both the Chinese and Mexicans exhibited throughout the anti-Chinese movement. More dangerously, by employing an overwhelming number of sources produced by the antichinistas, Chino’s portrayal of the Chinese is seriously skewed by these racist accounts and language. In Chino, the Chinese Mexicans become exploitable tools, and even worse, ‘social residue’, an ‘obstacle’ and ‘racial threat’. Furthermore, by considering the development of anti-Chinese racism only through the perspectives of the antichinistas, Chino swiftly assigns to the Chinese the role of passive victims, neglecting their agency, resistance and, most importantly, their voice. It is easy for readers to be drawn into the anti-Chinese racist rhetoric cited ubiquitously in the book and forget that these Chinese immigrants were ultimately humans who deserve to tell this violent history through their own perspectives and voice.
Failing to recognise the nuanced relationship between Mexican citizens and official Sinophobia is another pitfall of the book. The book oversimplifies the influence of antichinismo among ordinary Mexicans, depicting the official anti-Chinese rhetoric and policies as an all-encompassing force embraced and supported by all Mexicans, including Indians. Yet many historical accounts have shown that amidst the rampant anti-Chinese movement, many Mexicans refused to buy into the racist rhetoric and policies, and instead criticised antichinismo for disrupting the peaceful livelihoods of both Chinese and Mexicans. Without adequately considering the perspectives of ordinary Mexicans, Chino privileges the perspectives of the political elites, overlooking the complex social dynamics related to the development of Mexican Sinophobia.
Despite these shortcomings, Chino remains an informative book and an important addition to the current historiography on the history of Chinese Mexicans. Its systematic analysis of the formation of anti-Chinese racism in Mexico presents new insights into the ways in which politicians manipulate racist rhetoric and racial violence to achieve diverse goals other than racial cleansing. As racist rhetoric and racial violence continue to be on the rise in the western hemisphere in the present day, this book is a sober reminder of the devastating effect that organised racism can have on minority groups.
