Prowling about Panama

In Short

Written in the immediate aftermath of the Panama Canal’s completion, this account serves as both a survey of a changing landscape and a moral treatise on the region’s future. The author treks from the historic ruins of Old Panama into the rugged, undeveloped interior, documenting everything from the cosmopolitan bustle of city markets to the slow, mule-driven pace of farm life. It remains a valuable historical artifact because it captures the intersection of American industrial triumph, lingering colonial shadows, and the complex, often paternalistic social attitudes held by outsiders during the canal era.

The Story

The narrative begins by framing Panama as a historical palimpsest—a place where the violent, gold-seeking legacy of Spanish conquistadors and pirates like Henry Morgan gives way to the modern engineering marvel of the Canal. The author, a keen observer of the "prowling" life, moves away from the tourist-heavy zones to explore the dense, humid interior. He describes his own arduous travels on the back of a stubborn mule, navigating nearly vertical clay trails and jungle brush to reach isolated agricultural outposts. Along the way, he encounters a society he views as stagnant, blaming this perceived lack of progress on a combination of historical isolation, systemic superstition, and economic exploitation by a local elite.

As the account progresses, the focus shifts from the geography of the land to the sociology of its people. The author categorizes the inhabitants—Panamanians, West Indian laborers, and indigenous groups—through the lens of his own era’s prejudices. He is particularly concerned with the West Indian population, whose labor was essential to the Canal’s construction but who, in his view, suffer from a lack of racial self-respect and social organization. He argues that the physical "hookworm" afflicting the population is matched by a "moral hookworm" that keeps the society in a state of lethargic, hand-to-mouth existence.

The final act of the narrative transitions into a broader geopolitical argument. The author looks at the twelve Spanish-American republics on the Pacific coast, envisioning a future of immense prosperity and trade triggered by the Canal’s opening. He posits that the United States has a duty to look beyond its own borders, not just as a commercial power, but as a catalyst for "spiritual democracy." He contends that the Canal serves as more than a highway for ships; it is a conduit for the Protestant, democratic, and educational values he believes will eventually break the "chains of moral and spiritual despotisms" that he claims have held Latin America back for centuries. The story ends on a note of optimistic, if highly Western-centric, prophecy, calling for a new generation of leaders to move past the era of construction and toward an era of empire-building that emphasizes progress, sanitation, and the reform of the Latin-American soul.

How It Unfolds

The historical foundation The author sets the scene by tracing the Isthmus’s violent past, moving from the arrival of Columbus to the bloody exploits of pirates. He establishes the contrast between the ruins of Old Panama and the modern "trail" now paved by the United States.

The jungle trek The narrative shifts to a personal expedition through the untamed interior on muleback. The author describes the physical hardships of the terrain, using the humor and frustration of traveling on treacherous, muddy slopes to illustrate the isolation of the hinterlands.

The social analysis A detailed breakdown of the Isthmus’s demographics follows, analyzing the mix of European, Caribbean, and indigenous bloodlines. The author evaluates the work of the Rockefeller Foundation and identifies what he considers to be the physical and moral ailments hindering the region’s development.

The economic outlook The focus turns to the potential for agriculture and commerce, examining why the interior remains largely unexploited despite its natural wealth. The author critiques the local political systems and "meat trusts" that he believes stifle individual industry and prevent modern progress.

The call to reform The concluding sections argue for the necessity of missionary work and education as the keys to transforming the region’s character. The author concludes by positioning the United States as the essential partner in a new era of Pan-American development and moral enlightenment.

The People

The author, George A. Miller, serves as the primary narrator, acting as both an amateur ethnographer and a missionary advocate. He views the Panamanian people through a lens of paternalistic concern; he consistently identifies the "native" as a person of potential who is currently crippled by an unprogressive environment. He is most sympathetic toward those he perceives as willing to accept his vision of "modern" labor and education.

The West Indian laborer appears as a central, albeit marginalized, figure. The author credits this group with the physical reality of the Canal’s success, yet he expresses frustration at their perceived lack of "concert of purpose." To the author, they are individuals defined by their need for better leadership and higher wages, though he remains dismissive of their own existing social structures and internal hierarchies.

The "Latin-American leader" or politician is presented as a negative foil, characterized by the author as a participant in a system of graft and political obsession. The author contrasts these figures with the "intelligent and refined" Latin elite, whom he suggests could be capable allies if they would only adopt more North American ideals of industry and democracy.

In Its Own Voice

"As a descent it was a complete success; at the second step I slipped on the wet clay and went rolling and coasting to the bottom, whither I arrived in record time, plastered from head to foot with the raw material of which pottery is made."

The author recounts his first, humbling experience attempting to lead his mule down a precipitous jungle trail.

"These people are not bad; they are crippled; they are not vicious; they are lifeless; they are not rebels: they are very much untaught, backward children."

The author summarizes his charitable, yet condescending, view of the residents of the Panamanian interior.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for the export of North American values to the "undeveloped" regions of the world. It frames the Panama Canal not merely as an engineering feat, but as a moral imperative that obligates the United States to intervene in the social, religious, and economic life of its southern neighbors. It asks whether a culture can be fundamentally "re-engineered" through education, sanitation, and the introduction of Protestant work ethics. The book is deeply invested in the question of how a nation should project its influence—arguing that true prosperity in Latin America requires a total departure from the "dead" traditions of the past in favor of a modern, efficient, and westernized future.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of the Canal Zone will find this book essential for understanding the mindset of the Americans who moved there during its formative years. It is a candid, if often uncomfortable, record of the era's pervasive attitudes regarding race, class, and colonial responsibility. The author’s writing is sharp and evocative, particularly when he describes the sensory details of the jungle or the chaotic, multicultural streets of Panama City.

However, a modern reader must be prepared for the author's stark period attitudes. His paternalism—frequently referring to indigenous and Caribbean populations as "children" or "crippled"—is a defining characteristic of the work. While he occasionally attempts to admire the "social graces" and "innate refinement" of the Latin-American elite, his assessment of the working class is consistently dismissive. Those who can look past these prevailing prejudices will find a treasure trove of observations about the transformation of a region that was rapidly being pulled into the orbit of global commerce. It is a rewarding read for those who want to see how the "empire-builders" of the early twentieth century justified their mission and perceived the world they were so aggressively helping to modernize.