Indigenous peoples in Latin America have produced some of the region’s strongest and most enduring social movements, drawing on a diverse repertoire of contention to pursue their goals. In the twenty-first century, social media have transformed the landscape of collective action, compelling Indigenous movements to navigate the evolving dynamics of digital platforms. There is an ongoing debate in the literature regarding the role of social media in mobilization. But we know relatively little about how social media fit into the tactical repertoires of Indigenous actors and what tasks these platforms are used for. This article addresses this gap through an examination of how Indigenous actors use social media during protest events. We conducted a comparative analysis of social media content produced by Indigenous social movement organizations during major protest events in three countries from 2018 to 2019. We find that the most common functions include activating supporters and exposing state violence. These functions support several of the organizations’ core mobilization tasks by providing actors with tools to complement collection action.

This article examines the literature on popular liberalism in nineteenth-century Mexico and the shortcomings of two interpretations: popular liberalism as an alternative to elite liberalism, and popular liberalism as a strategy to ultimately pursue non-liberal ends. It argues that both interpretations tend to overstate the distance between the liberal elite and its popular supporters because of an unexamined, dichotomous conception of liberalism and the people (generally Indigenous and non-Indigenous peasants) as opposites. It draws its examples from studies of local politics and sides with the interpretation of ‘liberalism tout court’ as the best available option to avoid reifications of liberalism and the popular.

On 20 November 2016, residents of Gran Chaco Province in south-east Bolivia voted by popular referendum to approve a statute that established Gran Chaco as Bolivia's first autonomous region. This article examines regional autonomy in the Chaco as an example of how identities, territory and political power are being remapped at the intersection of an extractivist development model and competing visions of a plurinational state. I chart how regional autonomy, an elite-led project centred on demands for a fixed share of departmental gas royalties, has been institutionalised under the framework of plurinationalism and used to bolster central state power in this gas-rich region. The article considers the historical evolution of this regionalist project, its intersection with broader processes of state formation under the Movimiento al Socialismo (Movement towards Socialism, MAS) government and its implications for the Chaco's Indigenous peoples, who have achieved significant representation within the regional assembly while seeing their own visions of territorial autonomy sidelined by an extractivist development agenda.

In May 2010, Julián Miranda, an Indigenous Asháninka shaman, died hours after killing a jaguar-shaman. Despite knowing that it could kill him, he killed a jaguar-shaman to protect his cows, an investment to support the much-desired progreso (‘progress’) of his children and grandchildren through education. Julián's choice was one of personal sacrifice driven by the hardships he experienced in the degraded forests of the Bajo Urubamba valley in the Peruvian Amazon. My examination of his decision to kill the jaguar-shaman engages with the multi-disciplinary literature on how local peoples engage with the expanding extractive frontier in Latin America. The emphasis most literature places on social movements and – to a lesser extent – on the ontological characteristics of these conflicts needs to be counterbalanced by individual experiences like Julián's for a deeper understanding of the multiple local experiences of large-scale resource extraction and the different strategies through which people pursue their desired futures.

What kind of times are these when a talk about trees is almost a crime? Among other things, they are times of forgetfulness. Forgetting does not mean that reminiscences just vanish as time goes by. It is, on the contrary, a major cultural force grounded in a politics of anti-memory. One needs to forget in order to keep repeating oneself. In this article, I argue that the National Museum in Rio de Janeiro did not burn to the ground merely because of the lack of resources, but because being burned to the ground has always been a virtual feature of the existence of the museum since it was created in 1818. It burned as part of a long-term politics of anti-memory in Brazilian history.

Hundreds of indigenous Mayo ejidatarios became members of the SICAE (Sociedad de Interés Colectivo Agrícola Ejidal) sugarcane cooperative in North-West Mexico in the 1930s, gaining control of irrigated lands and marginalising non-members, called ‘individualists’, by the 1940s. This article focuses on how indigenous individualists of Los Goros and El Teroque ejidos navigated the SICAE's control of water and attempts to annex their lands. Mayo individualists’ resistance to corrupt ejidal leadership and the SICAE cooperative allowed them to influence local water development decisions. These individualist Mayo experiences exemplify how hydraulic social mobilisation became an indigenous people's strategy of survival in mid-twentieth-century Mexico.

Nineteenth-century republicans across the political spectrum agreed: the Spanish monarchy produced ‘miserable Indians’. Abolishing tribute and privatising communal lands, known as resguardos in New Granada (roughly today's Panama and Colombia), would transform that wretched class into equal citizens. Drawing on late eighteenth-century privatisation efforts by the Spanish Crown, early republican leaders in Gran Colombia inaugurated an era seeking equal access to wealth from communal land for all indigenous community members. After Gran Colombia (the first Colombian Republic, 1819–30) dissolved into New Granada, Ecuador and Venezuela in 1830, New Granada's experiments with indigenous resguardo policies went further. By then, legislative efforts considered the needs of all resguardo members, including unmarried mothers and their illegitimate children. Complex laws, diverse ecological terrain and nuanced social realities required well-trained surveyors to ensure each eligible indigenous family received a fair share of land. Whereas indigenous communities in Pasto, Santa Marta and the Cauca river valley resorted to armed insurrection against liberal policies through the War of the Supremes (1839–42), those in the highlands near Bogotá did not. Instead, these republican indígenas – with their greater access to the levers of power housed in the national capital – chose to engage in the reforms of a decentralising state. This article reveals how contentious experiments seeking republican equality within indigenous resguardos as a path towards abolishing the institution were consistently stymied by efforts to ensure that indigenous community governance and communal landholding remained intact.

This article analyses the ethno-politics of water in Argentina at the high point of European immigration, the first three decades of the twentieth century. Focusing on the drying of the Guanacache wetlands, located in the wine-producing region of Cuyo, we show how national and provincial ideologies based on ‘whitening’ and ‘civilisation’ shaped policies that favoured European immigrants at the expense of autochthonous populations in the geographic and social struggle for irrigation water. A large-scale redistribution of water resources drove the indigenisation of indigenous and criollo populations and the desertification of their land.

This article analyses the background to and the content of the Peruvian prior consultation law – the only one enacted in Latin America to date – and its regulating decree. In contrast to the widespread conception that prior consultation is a means for preventing and resolving conflict, it argues that this new legislation will not help to transform conflicts as long as the normative framework itself is contested and the preconditions for participatory governance are not in place. Establishing these preconditions would result in state institutions capable of justly balancing the diverse interests at stake; measures that reduce power asymmetries within consultations; and joint decision-making processes with binding agreements.

Gonzalo Oleas Zambrano was a socialist lawyer from Quito who, from the 1930s to the 1970s, became deeply involved in assisting rural communities in Ecuador with their legal petitions. Intermediaries have a long and varied history in negotiating relationships between the city and the countryside, and one that is often not well understood. At various points in his career Oleas acted like a tinterillo, a socialist and an indigenista. An examination of Oleas’ petitions quickly breaks down a simplistic characterisation of his actions and interpretation of his motivation. Rather, his ability to transcend existing categories helps explain why rural litigants so often turned to Oleas for assistance.