State of Anticipation

By LAURENCE I. BARRETT/SAN JUAN

And the 51st state of the union will be . . . Puerto Rico? To most Americans, the idea seems highly implausible. In a new TIME/CNN poll, only 48% of those surveyed are aware that the island enjoys an unusual arrangement with the U.S. called commonwealth. Meanwhile just 21% of mainlanders say Puerto Rico should become a state, 24% think it should become a separate country, and 32% prefer the status quo. The social and economic statistics are daunting too. Absorbing the impoverished island 1,000 miles southeast of Miami and its 3.7 million people -- only half of whom speak English -- would cost billions in additional federal welfare benefits.

Still, the idea of statehood marches forward and is even gathering momentum. Both the Democratic and Republican parties and all recent Presidents have endorsed the island's right to determine its own political fate. And to a growing number of Puerto Ricans that looks more and more like complete union with the mainland -- especially with the rigorous pro-statehood push from the , island's popular new Governor, Dr. Pedro Rossello. The former pediatric surgeon has detonated an intense debate by engineering a plebiscite, scheduled for a week from Sunday, on the island's future. A pro-statehood vote would pressure the U.S. Congress to accept or reject Puerto Rico -- a decision most mainland representatives would rather avoid.

Three choices appear on the ballot: petition Congress to become the 51st state, seek to become an independent republic, or continue the present ambiguous commonwealth relationship. When islanders last voted on their status, in 1967, commonwealth bested statehood 60% to 39%, and independentistas boycotted the event. Opinion has subsequently shifted, although consensus remains elusive. Surveys by Rossello's New Progressive Party indicate that statehood will attract about 50%, with commonwealth very close behind and independence a distant third.

One reason for the change is Rossello's popularity. He ran a dynamic campaign last year, promising fundamental reform of education, health care and government bureaucracy. Another reason is that over the decades Puerto Rico has become increasingly dependent on federal assistance, ranging from food stamps to education grants. Suggestions that the island move away from the U.S. raise concern that these benefits might end.

Historically, statehood was favored mostly by the island's light-skinned upper class, which feared the radical instincts of nationalists and the New Deal proclivities of the Popular Democratic Party. The Populares negotiated the commonwealth system with Washington 41 years ago, and continue to support the arrangement. Now, in the impoverished mountain barrio of Cubuy, once a Populares bastion, Jesus Colon, 64, tells a visitor: "I had great feeling for independence when I was a kid. But I lived in New York for 22 years and learned what the U.S. is really like. I tell all my relatives the best thing that could happen to us would be statehood." His neighbor Nathaniel Calderon, 44, who fought in Vietnam and recently retired from the Army, agrees. "Today," says Calderon, "we are Americans, but separated."

The arguments pro and con are not easily grasped by most Americans, who do not quite understand what it feels like to be a U.S. citizen from Puerto Rico. While living on the mainland, both Calderon and Colon could vote in federal elections. They lost that right by going home; the island elects one delegate to the House of Representatives, who can vote only in committee. Moving back also means a lower level of federal benefits. But there are some advantages. While in the States, the two men had to pay federal income tax; on the island they pay none.

Then there is the issue of Section 936 of the Internal Revenue Code, which permits U.S. companies to shelter the profits of their Puerto Rican subsidiaries. Now worth about $3.4 billion a year, this huge tax break was intended to create industry and jobs. To the statehooders, both the commonwealth and its chief economic prop, Section 936, are obsolete because they no longer produce much economic growth. Rossello argues that Puerto Rico can go forward only with "full participation, with all the rights, all the privileges but also all the responsibilities" of statehood. While he makes the transition sound easy, his opponents predict corruption of Puerto Rico's soul and destruction of its economy. They also argue that the vote is moot in any case: the U.S. Congress will find a way to reject a poor, Spanish-speaking land that would enter the Union with a secessionist faction. If statehood wins with only a small majority, Congress may find ways to delay confronting the question of union for years.

Though they differ on some policies, advocates of independence and the status quo agree on one critical point: survival of Puerto Rico's culture depends on political space between their island and the U.S. One of the commonwealthers' best slogans promises voters "the best of both worlds" if they retain the present system with only minor changes -- still more federal assistance, for example. Celeste Benitez, who directs the Populares' campaign to preserve the commonwealth status, argues, "We are a people with our own language, our own culture. This plebiscite is about preserving that identity."

Cultural colonialism has been a touchy issue ever since Governors appointed by Washington before World War II attempted to impose English through the school system. (Spain ceded the island to the U.S. after the Spanish-American War of 1898.) "There was resentment, trauma, about being forced to learn all subjects in English years ago," says Ricardo Alegria, executive director of the Center for Advanced Studies in San Juan. Those memories, he speculates, cause many to resist learning English even today. Insular identity remains sacrosanct. Last week, after Madonna caressed herself with the Puerto Rican flag during a San Juan concert, politicians of all stripes raised angry criticism. Local clerics even pressed a campaign of hanging black ribbons on trees in protest.

Still, Rossello dismisses the cultural-colonialism argument as an irrelevant scare tactic. The U.S. is becoming more tolerant of diversity rather than less, he says, and Puerto Ricans will be as free to embrace their own traditions as they are today.

In the early years of commonwealth, adroit use of Section 936 and other incentives raised Puerto Rico from dire poverty to one of the highest living standards in Latin America. But progress has stalled. Industrial development has failed so far to move the island's per capita income close to mainland levels. Unemployment is now 18%, and half the people get some form of public assistance. This year Congress voted to reduce the 936 tax benefit starting in 1994. Statehood would accelerate 936's demise. "It would be a disaster," says Alex Maldonado, a former newspaper editor who is writing an economic history of the island. "The statehooders have no alternative economic model."

That prediction assumes the wholesale flight of American companies if they must pay full corporate taxes. False alarm, the statehooders reply; the U.S. is expanding trade with Latin America, and Puerto Rico is a natural gateway. While affluent Puerto Ricans would have to pay federal income tax for the first time, the working poor and the unemployed would get higher benefits as welfare payments rose to meet mainland levels. Rossello promises that for every new dollar going to Washington, three would return in the form of higher assistance. Senator Ruben Berrios, head of the Independence Party, quips, "It is not a matter of 'Give me statehood or give me death.' It is a matter of 'Give me statehood so I can have more food coupons.' "

If statehood wins, the Hispanic caucus in Congress and sympathizers in the Senate will sponsor legislation to admit Puerto Rico into the Union. But if the winning vote is slim, the island's case may be marooned in committee for an extended period. Congress fears that a Puerto Rican application would revive the District of Columbia's bid for statehood -- an issue that the body has assiduously avoided. New states mean new political math. The island, for example, would get two Senators and six Representatives, taking away seats from other parts of the country and expanding the Hispanic bloc on Capitol Hill.

"My worst fear," says Senator Bill Bradley of New Jersey, "is that Puerto Rico votes for statehood, Congress ducks, and we're unmasked as opponents of self-determination."