Beyond competitive elections, democratisation should include a transformation of the institutions of state and civil society into spaces that recognise the rights of citizens and allow for their participation. This study explores the question of how Mexican labour unions are transformed into institutions with a commitment to the rights and participation of women workers. Drawing on evidence from five unions, the paper shows that compared to their corporatist counterparts, unions with a ‘democratic ethos’ provide a context within which gender equity rights are more readily recognised. However, recognition of gender equity is primarily dependent on feminist activism and union leadership. The paper argues that women's efforts to transform their unions into spaces that reflect and advocate for gender equity rights are critical to strengthening democratic citizenship in Mexico.

This article contends that Brazil's evangelical Christian networks increasingly function as penal infrastructure. Since the 1990s, the scale and scope of evangelical involvement in the criminal justice system have grown significantly. One clear result is that the capillary relationships that constitute Christian community now mobilise resources to support or even substitute the basic functions of punishment. I draw on fieldwork in Rio de Janeiro to understand this shift and its broader implications for the Brazilian project of incarceration. I also make a general claim for thinking with and through infrastructure as a pathway to understand penal governance.

Among students of Latin America, the existence of sizable Indian communities within the region has provoked a lively debate about the relationship between ethnicity and social class. Such communities have failed to become part of class society, it is often said, because they retain those customs and traditions which arose under colonialism, because in some sense they remain encapsulated to this day within the feudal social order. A few experts even claim that these customs have themselves become the primary agent of economic and political exploitation in various rural areas.1 According to this view, native people have accepted more or less passively a culture which was designed for them by Spanish missionaries and administrators, a culture which emphasized ethnic difference at the expense of class solidarity.2 In contrast to these ideas, contemporary events provide us with many indications that such people did not simply resign themselves to the fate which colonial authorities elected for them, Of primary importance, native uprisings and rebellions, messianic movements and religious heresies occurred in Latin America with astonishing frequency throughout the centuries which preceded Independence. By analyzing these movements, then, and particularly the convictions which moved their participants to action, we may formulate a more coherent view of Spanish colonialism — a view which also helps us to understand the question of ethnicity among Indians today.

This article studies the relationship between electoral processes, popular mobilisation, and revolutionary movements in Argentina at the end of the nineteenth century. Focusing on the revolution of 1880, it is argued that the fraud in favour of General Julio A. Roca, that was perceived to have occurred in the presidential election of that year, resulted in the mobilisation of vast sectors of the Buenos Aires population and the organisation of militias. By analysing the social composition, organisation, and sources of recruitment of these militias, the article claims that although personal allegiance, clientelism and coercion played a role in this mobilisation, these factors are not sufficient to explain the popularity of the movement. The revolution owed its wide and active support to the claims of its leaders, who centred their discourse on defending the purity of suffrage and the rights of citizens to bear arms in order to protect their rights and freedoms.

Although the Dominican Republic had one of the highest economic growth rates in the world between 1969 and 1973, its growth performance and external position deteriorated sharply in the 1970s. By 1985 it had an external debt/GDP ratio of 76.6%, well above the average of 62.3% for the Latin American and Caribbean region as a whole.1 The Dominican debt crisis that emerged in the 1980s, like the crisis in many other debtridden Less Developed Countries (LDCs), was in part caused by adverse external conditions; in part, however, it was the result of domestic policy choices. Among the latter, large fiscal imbalances are arguably the most important.2

This article studies the growth and decline of Argentine exports of manufactured goods during the 1940s and 1950s. In a context that was favourable due to the global scarcity of manufactured goods, Argentine industry managed to sell its products in several foreign markets, especially in Latin America, during the Second World War. In the post-war period, however, exports declined and returned to the levels of the 1930s. After 1950 the Peronist administration again tried to stimulate exports through the use of various incentives, but they did not revive. The article examines the reasons for this decline, the role played by the economic, commercial and industrial policies of the Peronist era, and the problems that Argentine industry faced in remaining competitive. Based on this analysis, the paper questions the interpretation that argues that exporting manufactured goods was a viable path for development for import substitution industrialisation countries in the post-war world. In this respect the paper contributes to the discussion of different paths towards economic development in Latin America.

In the mid-twentieth century, the Brazilian federal government embarked upon an ambitious plan of fast-paced industrialisation aimed at responding to the growing needs of the country's ever more urbanised population. While the plan achieved rapid economic growth, rising levels of discontent defined much of the political behaviour of urban labour in the period. By critically examining some of the main events affecting industrial unions during the so-called ‘developmental decade’ of the 1950s, this article argues that amidst pervasive top-down economic transformations Brazilian workers consistently advanced an alternative position on national development. By investigating how metalworkers in São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro understood and responded to the main developmental trends and difficulties of the period, the paper reveals some of the creative strategies articulated by urban workers to promote a more socially inclusive path for the country. By becoming actively involved in ever more assertive cross-professional mobilisations, particularly those aimed at curbing the rising cost of living (a problem known as carestia), industrial workers not only protected their own economic interests but also significantly challenged the very bases of the populist political arrangements that defined post-war Brazilian society.

This article examines attempts to modernise navigation of the Doce River in Brazil during the early nineteenth century. It focuses primarily on the development of a joint Anglo-Brazilian business venture, The Rio Doce Company (1832–49). The failure of the Rio Doce Company cannot be attributed to a single overarching cause, but reflects numerous barriers to economic development including a cumbersome regulatory bureaucracy, capital scarcity, poor technological integration, challenging topography, and Brazilian political resistance to British investment and corporate oversight. This article contributes to the field of business history in the immediate post-independence era, a topic that has received relatively little scholarly attention.

One of the most striking features of the study of colonial urbanism and urbanization in Spanish America is the extent to which emphasis has been placed upon the sixteenth-century phase of urban foundations. In many recent works authors have presented details of the formal and functional characteristics of these primary foundations, as well as of the several interrelated processes of Indian resettlement, population change, and the spread of European culture. Though it has been estimated that more than 300 towns were founded in Spanish America between 1492 and 1600, relatively little attention has yet been paid to the changing spatial system of urban centres during the 300 years or more of colonial rule.

For the vast majority of people around the world, Central America is a small group of countries bridging the gap between the Mayan ruins of Guatemala and the Panama Canal. The names of those countries are only recognized when the major contending ideologies of capitalism and communism clash in one of them, or when an international figure of ill or good repute establishes some sort of link with them. A football game that leads to war also catches the eye of the media. An example of the first situation would be the ousting of the communist regime of Jacobo Arbenz in Guatemala by Honduran troops backed by the United Fruit Company and the CIA in 1954; another would be the rise of the marxist regime in Nicaragua in 1979. The second is evident in the establishment in Costa Rica of the international fugitive Robert Vesco around 1970, as well as in the visit of Pope John Paul II to each of the five nations in 1983. The last refers to the ‘soccer war’ between El Salvador and Honduras in 1967. In each instance the countries concerned made headlines around the world for a short time and people learned their approximate geographical location even if in a passing fashion.

This commentary argues that heavy-handed regulation and onerous implicit taxation of financial intermediaries in Latin America in the 1980s was softened by governments' assumption of responsibility for bank failures. This in turn induced governments to avoid dealing with bank distress, with disastrous subsequent consequences. In effect, mismanaged bank regulations were propped up by mismanaged bank exit procedures. The disincentives induced by such financial policies on bankers, depositors, creditors and regulators were pervasive. Illustrations are drawn from the experiences of four Latin American countries (Argentina, Bolivia, Nicaragua, Venezuela) in the 1980s.

Brazilian specialists have long recognised the importance of the 1960 presidential elections, which set in motion a process that culminated in a 21—year military dictatorship. Only in 1989 did Brazilians witness once again the direct election of a president. Nonetheless, scholarly literature on this event is sparse and often tends toward the ahistorical view that the election of Jânio Quadros in 1960 was part of an inexorable process. Almost entirely ignored are the reasons why Brazil's largest political party, the Partido Social Democrático or PSD, nominated for president a weak candidate, Marshal of the Brazilian Army Henrique Teixeira Lott.1

Clearly, Lott himself was not part of a praetorian guard that imposed his candidacy. Indeed, the Marshal was a reluctant candidate, who offered to withdraw in October 1959 in favour of a ‘national unity candidate’.2 In my view Lott's nomination had much more to do with a complex series of manoeuvres carried out by Brazil's president Juscelino Kubitschek (1956–61) than with his own actions. For Kubitschek, the political parties and presidential aspirants in 1960 were merely pawns in his highly personalistic vision of the political process. Constitutionally barred from seeking immediate re—election, Kubitschek initially manoeuvred to induce his party, the PSD, not to run its own presidential candidate. When this effort failed, he displayed, at the very least, ambivalence regarding the fate of the party's candidate.

An analysis of Kubitschek's actions and motivations presents methodological challenges to the historian. Historians traditionally rely heavily on written documentation to support their analysis of actions and motivations.

Throughout the nineteenth century, the United States and Chile competed for dominance in the Pacific, and their maritime rivalry reemerged in the race to Antarctica during the 1940s. The US Navy was able to circumnavigate the white continent, for the first time ever, while Chile's once great navy no longer posed a threat even to its neighbours. The Chilean government expressed concern about the scope of US exploration since the Antarctic always had been an essential component of its maritime policy with national security ramifications. President Gabriel González Videla seized upon Washington's unsuccessful attempts to determine the legal fate of the Antarctic to gain acceptance for a Chilean proposal that avoided the need to renounce sovereignty claims. In doing so, he secured essentially maritime objectives by diplomatic means. This success was more profound than widely appreciated since it came at a time when US intervention in Chile's domestic affairs had reached an unprecedented level.

When Dwight Morrow's appointment as Ambassador to Mexico was announced in September 1927, a Mexican newspaper commented: ‘After Morrow come the marines.’ To some contemporary observers this may have seemed to present a logical progression of events, but in reality the Morrow appointment was a distinct move in the opposite direction. Top level Mexican officials knew this since they had been involved for several years in negotiations with Thomas W. Lamont of the International Committee of Bankers on Mexico. Lamont and Morrow were colleagues in J. P. Morgan & Co. and close friends. Lamont regularly supplied Morrow with information about the activities of the International Committee, and during 1926 Morrow began to work closely with Lamont on the Mexican question.

The historical attachment of the organized labor movement of Chile to revolutionary ideologies has been unique in Latin America. Anarchosyndicalists controlled most labor unions in Santiago and Valparaíso, and the Communists those of the nitrate and coal mining zones during the 1920s. From the late 1930S to the fall of Allende, a majority of Chilean labor unionists manifested their desire for socio-economic change by supporting the Communist and Socialist Parties at the polls and in the streets.