The Rebellion Burns Bright

Columbia, Federal District, the United States of America

August 9th, 1837

Colombian Minister of Foreign Affairs Rafael Urdaneta strolled through the hallways of the State Department Building, a few streets away from the White House. Dozens of people, ranging from aides to important foreign dignitaries, milled around the halls as they went about their business within the heart of America. He appreciated the elegant decor and the mahogany wood that shaped the interior, brightened by dozens of lamps. Most of the paintings on the walls were drawn by artists across the Americas, a subtle nod to the members of the LAN. As he passed by a portrait of the Chinese Emperor, he respectfully nodded his head before continuing along with his escort. 

The impressive four-story building had opened earlier in the year, as construction was delayed due to the War. However, the newly christened headquarters of American diplomacy now towered over most buildings in the federal district, and Minister Urdaneta guessed that even the president was envious of the view from the State Secretary’s office. It was much bigger than the building that housed the Defense Department, which was small and spartan compared to this giant, luxurious hotel-like structure. He thought it was fitting that the State Department had the biggest and most spectacular building in America’s capital; the real power of the United States was not its military might but its diplomatic clout. 

Oh, its military was one of the finest in the world, with the best engineers and scientists to create even more powerful weapons. There was no doubt its capabilities to wage war would be second to none after America sufficiently recovered. Yet, there was a reason why one of the previous American presidents said, “Carry a big stick but speak softly.” 

America was powerful because it was surrounded by friends instead of hostile, rivaling powers. It held extensive ties with France, the leadership position within the League of American Nations, and influence from the corners of Africa to the center of Asia. The United States held the position of the Bastion of Democracy, and its actions worldwide demonstrated it. No other nation was befitting to take up the mantle, and for once, Urdaneta was glad his titan of a northern neighbor was benevolent instead of imperialistic. 

There were enough Britains in the world. 

However, even America could not stand alone. As arrogant as his beliefs were, he firmly believed that his home country played a crucial role during the Anglo-American War. Venezuela had been a battleground, another central front that siphoned troops away from the American mainland. Thousands of his countrymen paid with their lives to buy America more time to bring out its mighty weapons and beasts of steel. And it had not been for naught; they had won and proved they were worthy of standing next to their former colonizers as equals. 

“Well, perhaps our countries are greater than Spain and Britain now,” Minister Urdaneta mused in his native tongue. 

“As much as I would agree, Minister, I would not be so certain. We have seen how nations like France have bounced back from civil wars and chaos. Spain is in the same position, and if the Republicans win, they may see a new golden age of power and prosperity. Arrogance will only make us complacent, and complacency can kill any nation, even democratic ones.” 

He turned to his aide, twenty-year-old Manuel Murillo Toro hailing from Tolima near Bogota. “I agree. We must always maintain vigilance. Tell me, Manuel. Do you think the Americanos will accept our proposal?”

Manuel opened his mouth but could not reply as they arrived at the elevator. The doors barged open and revealed a small room with a man and several passengers. The occupants hastily departed, with the Colombian minister noting an Asian man in fine robes shaking and staring at the elevator as if it was possessed. Another man beside him caught Urdaneta’s eyes and smiled while speaking in accented English, “I apologize. He is not used to some of the interesting… inventions in Meiguo.” 

“Nor am I. It is not a problem,” Urdaneta answered in English. “Perhaps he can use some fresh air?”

“Yes. Xièxiè.”

After they departed, the two Colombians entered the elevator and greeted the elevator operator, a young African man with neatly combed hair. “Going up, sirs?” 

“We’re on the ground floor,” Manuel commented. “So yes, we are going up.” 

Urdaneta internally groaned at his aide’s remark. Despite being intelligent and open-minded, the younger man was painfully dense. “To the fourth floor, por favor.” 

“Of course, sir.” The operator pulled a lever, and the elevator slowly rose from the ground floor to the top.

Manuel gripped the railings on the walls as the elevator shuddered and ascended. He turned to his superior, who stood calmly in the center, with a raised eyebrow, “You seem very calm despite this being your first time in an elevator, Minister.”

“If I am surprised by every invention in America, I would already be dead from a heart attack,” Urdaneta stated gruffly. While he wasn’t old, his hair was already greying. “The ambassador informed me of the elevador in a letter, so I was prepared for it. I do admit; it is quite fascinating.”

“A combination of weights and a steam engine keeps this thing moving up and down. They used this in mines before coming up with the idea of using it for taller buildings.” The operator explained. 

“Certainly ingenious… It’s a symbol of innovation and power.” Manuel muttered. 

“It is also better than walking up four flights of stairs,” Urdaneta said.

They arrived at the fourth floor unceremoniously. The minister tipped his hat to the black man before walking towards the Secretary of State’s office on the far side of the floor. The first floor was a general reception area with various offices and a few rooms inhabited by foreign guests. The second floor was reserved mostly for European countries, while the third floor was swarmed with representatives from Asian and African nations, along with America’s protectorates. The top floor was solely for the nations in the Americas and the highest-ranking members from countries across the globe. 

The atmosphere on the top floor felt… frantic. The minister overheard rapid-fire Spanish and French spoken throughout the halls and noticed a few familiar ambassadors talking urgently with their staff. He wanted to inquire about the situation but decided to continue to the Secretary and ask his counterpart in private. 

“Minister Urdaneta? I assume you’re here for your appointment with the Secretary?” A woman asked as the pair approached the State Secretary’s office. She sat behind a desk filled with papers, her brown hair messily strewn across her pale face and wrinkled brows.

“Si.” 

“Oh, I apologize to inform you that the Secretary is currently out of his office. He said there was an emergency Cabinet meeting at the White House.”

“An emergency?” 

“He didn’t go into much detail, but he should be back soon. The meetings usually only last a few hours, and he’s been gone since early morning.” 

Urdaneta pulled out his pocket watch from his trouser and saw it was close to noon. “I see. May I wait in his office then?”

“Of course. If you need any refreshments, please let me know.” 

“Gracias.” The minister nodded to his aide, who stepped aside and sat in one of the chairs outside the office. 

The Secretary’s office was large but not overwhelmingly so. The walls were adorned with maps and various flags of different nations, including Colombia’s flag (yellow, blue, and red stripes with the national symbol of Colombia and olive branches in the middle). A large desk sat on the opposite side of the door, which held a typewriter and various folders. Several cabinets sat next to the giant window, which provided a clear view of the sprawling city. Urdaneta gazed at the White House and the dome covering the Capitol.  

To this day, no one knew how the Americans built such a colossal and massive dome. It was bigger than the dome on top of Florence Cathedral, designed by the great Filippo Brunelleschi. Yet, the Americans had built the Capitol as if it wasn’t a spectacular engineering feat, and even now, no one had managed to copy the sheer scope of the building. It was just one of many strings of achievements the United States had achieved in its short time in the world.

In the middle of his musing, the doors to the office opened, and Secretary of State James K. Polk stepped in with an apologetic smile and shook his counterpart’s hands. “Minister Urdaneta! I’m sorry I’m late. I know you had something important you wanted to discuss with me, but there was an emergency that needed my immediate attention.”

“No worries, Mr. Secretary. Does it have something to do with the League?”

Secretary Polk grimaced as he ushered his counterpart to the couches and sat in an armchair. “Unfortunately. We have just received word of… unpleasant events that have overtaken two of our members.”

“Please, do tell.”

“Before we dive into the gritty details, would you like some scotch?”

“Yes.” 

As the Secretary poured two glasses, he explained the situation to the minister. “The Haitian government has been overthrown.”

“What?” Minister Urdaneta’s impassive face broke out in a confused scowl. 

“The military gained much power throughout the War, and we both know how devastating the occupation was for Haiti. Once Haiti was liberated, the military held considerable sway in government due to their role in the resistance efforts. Unfortunately, this led to an internal division within the nation, and due to certain disagreements, the president was removed by the military as of three days ago.” 

“Could it be an external plot? I smell something foul about this; we both know the British are quite crafty…”

“No,” Secretary Polk shook his head. “The British, for all their faults, aren’t willing to start such a serious diplomatic breach in the Americas right now. We have already double-checked with the NIS and the Haitian ambassador. The ruling party was… too slow and too overwhelmed by reconstruction. We did our best to help the Haitian government, but it seems as though our aid was not enough.” 

“Mierda… that is unfortunate.”

“Quite.” 

“How will your nation respond?”

Secretary Polk handed a glass to Urdaneta, who accepted and took a sip. “President Nathaniel has ordered the Western Atlantic Fleet to prepare for a full blockade and a possible military intervention to restore the democratic government of Haiti by force, if necessary. Four divisions are being deployed to Santo Domingo onto the Haitian border. A message has already been delivered to the new Haitian ‘president,’ promising further aid and development only if the democratic government is restored.” 

“Do you think they’ll take it?” The Colombian minister asked.

“Let’s hope they do, for the sake of all our nations. The last thing we want is a military overthrow being the standard during a crisis.” 

Minister Urdaneta grimaced. “You have our full support. Colombia will provide military assistance to force the Haitian military to back down from the matter.” 

While this was the first time the military had taken over a member within the LAN, the same could not be said for the American nations outside the organization. Paraguay and Bolivia had fallen to military despots shortly after their independence, while Peru was seized by the latter. The LAN had protected the members from the worst of the economic and political effects after independence, yet even it wasn’t perfect.

The last thing Bogota wanted was for Venezuela to get some funny ideas from Haiti and attempt an armed revolt…

“Thank you for your nation’s support, Minister. It will help bring the other LAN members on board. Due to the current situation, the president wants to hold an official LAN ‘summit’ in Central America soon.” Secretary Polk downed the glass of scotch and sighed. “It is time to assemble the LAN in full force and ensure stability, democracy, and prosperity in our members. Not to mention, Ecuador’s petition to join the LAN needs to be considered by all the members…”

“You mentioned another member suffering from ‘unpleasant events.’ Which nation were you talking about?” 

“Yucatan. A full-blown civil war.”

Minister Urdaneta blinked. “You jest.”

“I wish I was.”

“How?”

“The nation has always been a bit unstable due to conflicts between the ruling class consisting of peninsulares, creoles, and mestizos and the Mayan natives. It was one of the few places where the peninsulares retained their former powers and lands. However, after independence, the Yucatan government adopted some political and economic reforms to appease the Mayan natives. Not to mention, being a democratic state is one of the requirements for acceptance into the LAN.”

“I am aware.”

Secretary Polk pulled out a handkerchief and wiped some sweat from his forehead. “The War ruined much of the progress made within the nation. The disruption in the cotton and textile markets allowed the henequen and cotton industry within Yucatan to boom. This encouraged the expansion of the haciendas, forcing more Mayan natives to work in these estates for minimal pay, almost akin to slavery. Additionally, more and more native lands were seized to make room for more haciendas. A famine also rocked the nation at the worst time. Due to their plummeting political and economic status, and their grievances against the government, the Mayans have revolted against the government in Merida.”

“How bad is the situation?”

“Bad. From our estimates, thousands are already dead. The Merida government has suppressed the news of the civil war for months now; we only received information about the finer details of the conflict recently from Mexico.”

“But the NIS…”

“Is not everywhere and was damaged during the war. We also try to avoid spying on our allies.” 

The same can not be said about our Dirección Colombia de Inteligencia. Urdaneta thought. He swished the liquid in his cup and stared at his reflection on the small surface. “And what is your nation’s stance on that issue?”

The American secretary glanced at the door and leaned forward. “We are still reviewing all the details of the civil war and checking if the Mayan population was, indeed, being oppressed. Suppose the Merida government acted against the spirit of the LAN charter and reverted to minority rule to suppress the majority. In that case, President Nathaniel is… open to military deployment to halt the civil war and resolve the issue through a dialogue between the leadership of both sides.” 

Minister Urdaneta’s head swirled as he imagined a similar situation within his home country. Venezuela in revolt, the nation in chaos, and the United States forcing the two sides to compromise, resulting in his nation splitting in two. He had believed, hoped, that the United States was different than Britain... but was that true? “Haiti, I could understand. The military overthrew the democratically elected government. But the Merida government is the government that signed the LAN treaty for Yucatan. Would your Congress even agree to deploy soldiers to intervene in a potentially messy civil war while siding with no one?” 

“They will agree.” Secretary Polk declared confidently. “Natives' rights and equality have been two of our nation’s most sensitive issues. The Merida government is suspected of failing at both. President Bonapart believes there can be a peaceful settlement to this conflict and a way to ensure that Yucatan is re-integrated after meeting the standards of the LAN.”

“Could your nation stomach an extended conflict on two fronts while recovering from the War?”

“We can, and we will. Otherwise, our victory against Britain would have meant nothing.” 

“I see.” Urdaneta finished his scotch and placed the glass on the coffee table. “My government would be interested in helping with the Haitian situation, but we will back the legitimate government of Yucatan in Merida.”

As he stood up, Secretary Polk rose and stared at him. “If we have clear evidence that the Merida government oppresses the Mayan people, would you revert your stance?”

“No.” The Colombian minister sighed. “Senor Polk, I do not think you understand our situation.”

“Is that what you wanted to speak to me about?”

“Si. I am afraid our nation is fairing only slightly better than Haiti and Yucatan.”

“What do you mean?” Secretary Polk asked as they both sank back into their seats. 

“Our nation was a creation of an idealistic visionary, Miranda. However, there are physical, economic, and ideological divisions between Colombia and Venezuela. The War has… intensified the differences.” 

“I’m assuming the Venezuelans are not pleased that most of the casualties and destruction happened in the eastern parts of the country?” 

“That is one of the many issues. The Venezuelans believe Bogota does not care about them and sees them as cheap, expendable labor. The east still lags behind the west in economic development and wealth. Not to mention, the Andes divide the nation at the center.”

Secretary Polk caught on immediately. “I see… You are afraid of supporting us in Yucatan because you believe we will respond with similar measures if Venezuela breaks out in revolt.”

“Perhaps,” Urdaneta answered. “As for the issue I wanted to discuss before we were sidetracked… My government formally requests a temporary suspension of Article 2 of the LAN Charter. Allow our government to establish tariffs on American goods.” 

“You know the terms of the treaty….”

“Our industry was killed in the crib due to the common market; your nation’s industrial might crushed ours easily. We accepted such terms for years since you protected our nation and provided aid. However, the War allowed some of our domestic industries to develop and grow, which quieted the complaints of artisans, merchants, and capitalists toward the LAN. We are not asking for a permanent suspension of Article 2, just a temporary one so our industries can develop further and compete with your nation’s industry.” 

“We can not just suspend parts of the treaty.” 

“The spirit of the Charter is to bring peace, stability, and prosperity to the LAN members. If the suspension of Article 2 supports the spirit of the Charter, then it should be suspended, no?” Urdaneta retorted, using the argument that his counterpart had made earlier. “Is America unwilling to alter that specific section because it would threaten its economic dominance of the LAN? Why do you think Yucatan, Haiti, and Central America have very little industry?”

“I… I will discuss the matter with the president.”

“I hope you do, Mr. Polk. Because questions have been raised recently. Are we truly equal allies, or are we merely a stage for your nation to be entertained by?”