In the Introduction, we define a coup d’état as the unconstitutional replacement of the incumbent executive by military officers or civilians supported by the armed forces, an act that is often accompanied by the suspension of civil guarantees and liberties as well as the nullification of legislative power. We then provide an overview of the economic underpinnings of twentieth-century Latin America and describe the main characteristics of the Cold War in the subcontinent (from the role of the US to the impact of Cuba’s integration into the socialist bloc, from the changing role of the military as an institution to the Doctrine of National Security). We examine the role of the Catholic Church, one of the key actors during this period, in political stability. We close by offering two possible ways to read this book, taking advantage of the comparative framework that its structure offers. Our collective goal in this volume is to explain the end of an era – the Cold War – that conditioned the subcontinent’s transition to democratic regimes, regardless of whether subsequent governments have slanted neoliberal or neo-populist.

The Afterword provides an overview of the different cases and identifies points of convergence and divergence, or of “lumping” and “splitting.” It offers a second reading of the book, one that does not get bogged down in rehashing each case but rather offers a consideration of the whole, providing new ways of thinking about the lessons that can be derived from the previous chapters. It explores the advantages and shortcomings of the various approaches, and helps the reader take away from the volume big and challenging questions for further research.

On June 27, 1973, Juan María Bordaberry, the democratically elected president of Uruguay, dissolved the general assembly and remained in office, sharing executive power with the military command. Uruguayans mention this date when asked when was the last coup d’état in their country. However, political and social actors have long disagreed over the exact meaning of this event and few would now reject that it was just one, albeit final and dramatic, step in a relatively long path toward authoritarianism. Things were different after that date in terms of state institutions as well as freedoms and rights for the citizenry, but many analysts have shown that most of these changes were in the making since at least 1968, when Jorge Pacheco Areco took power and governed under repressive measures of exception. A more recent body of literature has gone further back in time to show the importance of previous steps that aligned national politics with the polarized order of the Cold War. This chapter aims at offering a plausible narrative of what happened in the fifteen years before the date of the coup, combining basic historical facts with the changing interpretations that placed and displaced meaning and importance among them.

Far from representing the abandonment of civilian government by conservative, pro-military forces in Washington, DC, Bolivia’s 1964 coup d’état occurred over strident objections from the United States. In describing this surprising story of local Cold War golpismo (coup waging) in Latin America, this chapter analyzes the overlapping trajectory of three key groups of actors: the deterioration of the ancien régime of middle-class nationalists (los golpeados), the widespread involvement of liberal developmentalist US officials (los gringos), and the multivalent ideologies and strategies of civilian and military plotters (los golpistas) who brought down twentieth-century Bolivia’s most powerful leader. The case study reveals a superpower’s inability to micromanage political development on the periphery, and it highlights the underappreciated intimacy between civil society and military officers in the social phenomenon known as Latin American golpismo.

When British troops entered Germany, they found ‘well dressed and well fed’ Germans, showing how much the Nazi state had plundered from occupied nations and camp inmates. Soon, however, prominent British opinion-shapers arrived at a new appreciation of German victimhood. Millions of ethnic German ‘expellees’ created a constituency of displaced persons whose basic needs had to be met. Central to this story is British publisher, humanitarian and activist Victor Gollancz, the force behind ‘Save Europe Now’ (SEN). Gollancz’s polemical interventions used ‘kaput’ shoes as emblems of German immiseration, evoking the footwear stripped from victims of Nazi genocide. While SEN encouraged Britons to send clothing and food parcels to Germans, British occupation authorities revised their understandings of former enemies and allies. The chapter concludes with the International Military Tribunal convened in Nuremberg to try leading Nazi war criminals in 1945–6. Noting the ‘deflation’ of Nazi leaders stripped of uniforms and insignia, British and US observers also remarked on poor Soviet apparel. Western attempts to kindle consumerist aspirations behind the Iron Curtain soon became prominent.

Debates about Latinx literary representations of war tend to emphasize either how Latinx literature offers a means of repair for war’s ravages or, alternatively, that violence is constitutive of latinidad itself. This chapter charts a middle course through both positions by arguing that US Latinx literature highlights both irresolute, unreconciled wars and, what Jesse Alemán describes as Latinx “micro-wars” within major conflicts; such micro-wars, furthermore, often involve clashes and negotiations around the racialized boundaries of Latinx communities. Here we survey a range of Latinx representations of the Civil War, World War II, the Korean War, and wars of revolution and counterinsurgency in Viet Nam and Central America. Rather than waging war on an irredeemable enemy, we conclude, Latinxs lay siege to the imperial relationship championed by the US in most of these conflicts.

This chapter is a study of India’s involvement in the Korean War, particularly in the later stages of that war and in bringing it to a close through the successful negotiation of an armistice agreement. The period under review is 1950–1953. The Korean War is an insightful case study because it combines a study of the beginnings of Indian diplomacy at the UN with Nehru’s idea of Asia.

This book is a study of non-alignment as it was conceptualised and developed in the context of modern India, particularly in the period immediately after independence. The main architect of India’s external affairs at this juncture was the first Prime Minister and Foreign Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru. The book is restricted to events that took place during the time he held office, between the years 1947 and 1964. In particular, this study aims to study non-alignment as an approach to security and as an approach to politics. There are three themes along which the book proceeds. First, the book contends that non-alignment is understood vaguely and inaccurately, leading to protracted debates about its past relevance and continued significance; secondly, that non-alignment frames politics innovatively; and thirdly, that this is an immensely precarious wager that encounters many points of resistance, which are not adequately engaged with in a sustained theoretical manner in literature on non-alignment. Thus, the book will argue that there has yet to emerge a serious critique of the political nature of non-alignment.

This book has historicized the quest for individual freedom in twentieth-century Europe by highlighting conflict-ridden expansion: more and more people claimed the status of free individuals, but they did so in very different ways, in various contexts, and more often than not in the face of powerful opposition. The Conclusion brings out the overarching narrative centered around ordinary Europeans’ efforts to expand their realm of control in spite of obstacles, to carve out a space for themselves, and to live freely according to their own preferred understandings. It also argues that these efforts stood in tension with various political movements that aspired to combine individual and collective freedom. This tension eased when the quest in its unheroic versions, having put both democracies and dictatorships under pressure to adapt, could be pursued in the more favorable context of détente and affluence. With the end of the Cold war, it seemed indeed to have prevailed. But the relationship between individual freedom and Europeanness was never entirely exempt from conflict and complexity and has recently become more controversial again.

The Sinai Campaign of 1956 was shaped by significant geopolitical developments, including the end of colonialism and the emergence of the Cold War. As former colonial powers relinquished control over territories, the Middle East became a focal point for global power struggles. Great Britain and France, seeking to protect their interests in the region, became involved in the conflict, aligning with Israel to achieve their strategic goals. Amidst these shifting dynamics, the Sinai Campaign unfolded as a pivotal military endeavor. The campaign was characterized by the emphasis on speed in battle, as articulated by Moshe Dayan. Dayan’s strategic vision prioritized the relative advantage of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF), focusing on areas where they could create a decisive edge over their adversaries. This approach led to a reevaluation of force-building principles, with an emphasis on offense and rapid execution capabilities. Furthermore, the campaign revealed the formidable power of the IDF’s armored corps, triggering a genuine revolution in Israeli military strategy. The Sinai Campaign thus stands as a multifaceted historical event, shaped by geopolitical realignments, military innovations, and ethical dilemmas.

Chapter 4 discusses the year 1956 as bringing together two crises that coincided in time almost to the hour but were starkly different in their causes and consequences. These are the Suez Canal Crisis and the Hungarian Revolution. India was intimately involved with both in very different ways. On the one hand, in the Suez Canal Crisis, India assumed again the mediatory role so well constructed during the Korean War. The anti-colonial fervour of the crisis and India’s support of the Egyptian cause did not impede India from mediating with both sides and contributing substantially to the closing of the crisis. On the other hand, in the case of Hungary, Nehru exposed himself to severe criticism, both international and domestic, for his delayed and ambiguous response to Soviet actions in suppressing the revolution. Both these events are discussed in conjunction as an attempt to read them as a discursive moment in which non-alignment as an approach to world politics encountered its first challenge and Nehru responded through an ambiguously constructed idea of Europe.

On the face of it, total war would seem to be fundamentally and entirely at odds with the very notion of individual freedom. Yet the relationship between the two was more complicated than that. From the beginning of World War I, much propagandistic effort went into stressing the voluntariness of military or quasi-military service. At the same time, imposing discipline on complex societies triggered major tensions, unintended effects, and subversive behaviors, allowing for some unexpected gains in personal independence. In general, military conflicts exacerbated disputes about the very meaning of freedom – both while they were being fought and when they were being anticipated or commemorated. This chapter discusses three issues: the extent to which military mobilization and enemy occupation created room for female independence, the ways in which contemporaries understood conscription and soldiers coped with it, and the various means by which Europeans endeavored to free themselves from military conflict, from muddling through to principled resistance under Nazi occupation or during the Cold War.