Pub Date : 2022-01-28DOI: 10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.871
Ilan Stavans
The Spanish language is the second largest in the world. While most of its syntactical patterns are the same, many of its speakers—around 450 million of them (the majority of whom live in Latin America)—use it in diverse, heterogeneous ways, to the point that it might be convenient to talk not of one español but of several. Its modernization began before the Spanish-American War, at the end of the 19th century, with the various drives toward national independence. Mass media (radio, TV, movies, and the internet) has also played a crucial role, along with immigration into and out of the region, tourism, language contact with indigenous tongues, English, and of code-switching strategies, tourism, and the emergence of working-class dialects like cantinflismo. The centripetal role played by Madrid’s Real Academia Española and its branches throughout Latin America can help to explain the tension between unity and plurality.
{"title":"The Spanish Language in Latin America in the 20th Century","authors":"Ilan Stavans","doi":"10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.871","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.871","url":null,"abstract":"The Spanish language is the second largest in the world. While most of its syntactical patterns are the same, many of its speakers—around 450 million of them (the majority of whom live in Latin America)—use it in diverse, heterogeneous ways, to the point that it might be convenient to talk not of one español but of several. Its modernization began before the Spanish-American War, at the end of the 19th century, with the various drives toward national independence. Mass media (radio, TV, movies, and the internet) has also played a crucial role, along with immigration into and out of the region, tourism, language contact with indigenous tongues, English, and of code-switching strategies, tourism, and the emergence of working-class dialects like cantinflismo. The centripetal role played by Madrid’s Real Academia Española and its branches throughout Latin America can help to explain the tension between unity and plurality.","PeriodicalId":190332,"journal":{"name":"Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Latin American History","volume":"18 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2022-01-28","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"127690428","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2022-01-28DOI: 10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.768
Adriana Romeiro
After more than a century and a half of looking for precious metals, by private individuals and the Portuguese crown, gold in abundant quantities was finally discovered in 1695, in the sertões of Cataguases—a region that corresponds to the central portion of the current state of Minas Gerais. The event marked the beginning of a series of finds in the most western part of Portuguese America in the first half of the 18th century, in the regions that would come to be known as Minas do Cuyabá and Minas dos Goyazes. The 18th century marked the dawn of a golden era in the Luso-Brazilian world, pointing to the concretization of the promises that, since the 16th century, had proclaimed an era of wealth for Portugal. The most profound consequence of the discovery of gold was a new geopolitical reconfiguration of Portuguese dominions in the American continent, in a politically delicate conjuncture, in which America came to occupy a central position in the Portuguese Empire, at the same time that Iberian territorial boundaries—established by the Treaty of Tordesillas—were the subject of intense negotiation. The captaincy of Minas Gerais, where a large amount of gold was discovered for the first time, constituted a laboratory where the Portuguese crown drafted the political and administrative formula that would later be applied in the captaincies of Mato Grosso and Goiás.
{"title":"The Discovery of Gold Mines in Minas Gerais, Mato Grosso, and Goiás","authors":"Adriana Romeiro","doi":"10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.768","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.768","url":null,"abstract":"After more than a century and a half of looking for precious metals, by private individuals and the Portuguese crown, gold in abundant quantities was finally discovered in 1695, in the sertões of Cataguases—a region that corresponds to the central portion of the current state of Minas Gerais. The event marked the beginning of a series of finds in the most western part of Portuguese America in the first half of the 18th century, in the regions that would come to be known as Minas do Cuyabá and Minas dos Goyazes. The 18th century marked the dawn of a golden era in the Luso-Brazilian world, pointing to the concretization of the promises that, since the 16th century, had proclaimed an era of wealth for Portugal. The most profound consequence of the discovery of gold was a new geopolitical reconfiguration of Portuguese dominions in the American continent, in a politically delicate conjuncture, in which America came to occupy a central position in the Portuguese Empire, at the same time that Iberian territorial boundaries—established by the Treaty of Tordesillas—were the subject of intense negotiation. The captaincy of Minas Gerais, where a large amount of gold was discovered for the first time, constituted a laboratory where the Portuguese crown drafted the political and administrative formula that would later be applied in the captaincies of Mato Grosso and Goiás.","PeriodicalId":190332,"journal":{"name":"Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Latin American History","volume":"30 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2022-01-28","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"125763945","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2022-01-28DOI: 10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.944
Cecilia Reynoso
Elmer Thomas Stanford (b. Albuquerque, New Mexico, January 2, 1929; d. Mexico City, December 10, 2018) was an ethnomusicologist from the United States who settled in Mexico in 1956. He is considered one of the precursors of field recording in Mexico, which he carried out from the end of 1956 until 2005. His recording covered various indigenous and mestizo musical traditions from more than 400 pueblos in states such as Oaxaca, Chiapas, Guerrero, Tabasco, Quintana Roo, Yucatán, Tlaxcala, Veracruz, Hidalgo, Puebla, San Luis Potosí, Michoacán, Jalisco, Morelos, Estado de México, Distrito Federal, Sinaloa, Chihuahua, and Sonora. His first field recordings can be found in the Fonoteca del Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia (INAH). Along with recordings from other researchers, these gave rise to a series of albums entitled Testimonio Musical de México. Stanford’s recordings were accompanied by his own reflections and research about the records that were released, which he disseminated through publications in bulletins, journal articles, books, and booklets. In 2007 Thomas Stanford gave his recordings to the Fonoteca Nacional, becoming this institution’s first collection; by 2010 his recordings were recognized as part of the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization’s (UNESCO’s) Memory of the World program.
{"title":"Thomas Stanford and His Field Recordings of Mexican Music","authors":"Cecilia Reynoso","doi":"10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.944","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.944","url":null,"abstract":"Elmer Thomas Stanford (b. Albuquerque, New Mexico, January 2, 1929; d. Mexico City, December 10, 2018) was an ethnomusicologist from the United States who settled in Mexico in 1956. He is considered one of the precursors of field recording in Mexico, which he carried out from the end of 1956 until 2005. His recording covered various indigenous and mestizo musical traditions from more than 400 pueblos in states such as Oaxaca, Chiapas, Guerrero, Tabasco, Quintana Roo, Yucatán, Tlaxcala, Veracruz, Hidalgo, Puebla, San Luis Potosí, Michoacán, Jalisco, Morelos, Estado de México, Distrito Federal, Sinaloa, Chihuahua, and Sonora. His first field recordings can be found in the Fonoteca del Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia (INAH). Along with recordings from other researchers, these gave rise to a series of albums entitled Testimonio Musical de México. Stanford’s recordings were accompanied by his own reflections and research about the records that were released, which he disseminated through publications in bulletins, journal articles, books, and booklets. In 2007 Thomas Stanford gave his recordings to the Fonoteca Nacional, becoming this institution’s first collection; by 2010 his recordings were recognized as part of the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization’s (UNESCO’s) Memory of the World program.","PeriodicalId":190332,"journal":{"name":"Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Latin American History","volume":"11 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2022-01-28","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"131506570","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2022-01-28DOI: 10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.957
Luciana Scaraffuni
Between 1968 and 1985, Uruguay experienced the twelve most tragic years of its history, due to the establishment of a civic–military dictatorship (1973–1985); such dictatorships came to power in various Southern Cone countries at that time: Brazil (1964), Bolivia (1971), Uruguay (1973), Chile (1973), and Argentina (1976). In Uruguay, the roots of political violence were present before the dictatorial period, though such violence was consolidated during this time (1973 to 1985). In 1968 a state of exception was established in the country through the implementation of what were called the Medidas Prontas de Seguridad and the pro-military actions of the Jorge Pacheco Areco administration (1967–1972). Subsequent years were characterized by the consolidation of the regime under the democratically elected president Juan María Bordaberry, who commanded the dissolution of the legislature on June 27, 1973. Due to the persecution, kidnapping, imprisonment, and disappearance of a large proportion of the population resulting from this, many Uruguayans went into exile. The experiences of a group of teatreros and teatreras, or theater workers, belonging to the El Galpón theater company, who went into exile in Mexico in 1976, are of particular interest. Exile interpellated this group of teatreros and teatreras in various ways, by examining the cultural context, the political context, and the material conditions in which the Galponeros lived in Mexico. It also takes into account that the experience of exile led to different forms of theater work for the group. Throughout, it is necessary to understand the relationship between “the national” and “the Latin American,” to distinguish them in some way, in reference to aspects that influenced the group’s theatrical production and construction both in Mexico and on its return to Uruguay. Similarly, members’ private lives are of interest, since the experience of exile, in addition to resignifying the theatrical work of the group, meant that the teatreros and teatreras experienced the rupturing of their daily lives and their “life world,” including the disintegration of families and their reconstruction in the countries of exile, in which the exiles formed new ties and family groups.
1968年至1985年期间，乌拉圭经历了其历史上最悲惨的12年，原因是建立了一个文武独裁政权(1973年至1985年);当时这样的独裁统治在南锥体的许多国家出现:巴西(1964年)、玻利维亚(1971年)、乌拉圭(1973年)、智利(1973年)和阿根廷(1976年)。在乌拉圭，政治暴力的根源在独裁时期之前就存在了，尽管这种暴力在这段时间(1973年至1985年)得到了巩固。1968年，通过实施所谓的Medidas Prontas de Seguridad和豪尔赫·帕切科·阿雷科政府(1967-1972)的亲军事行动，该国建立了一个例外状态。随后几年的特点是在民主选举的总统胡安María博尔达贝里领导下巩固政权，他于1973年6月27日下令解散立法机关。由于迫害、绑架、监禁和大量人口的失踪，许多乌拉圭人被流放。1976年流亡墨西哥的El Galpón剧团的一群戏剧演员和戏剧工作者的经历特别有趣。通过考察Galponeros在墨西哥生活的文化背景、政治背景和物质条件，Exile以各种方式询问了这群戏剧演员和戏剧演员。它还考虑到流亡的经历导致了不同形式的戏剧工作的团体。在整个过程中，有必要了解“民族”和“拉丁美洲”之间的关系，以某种方式区分它们，参考影响该团体在墨西哥和返回乌拉圭的戏剧制作和建设的方面。同样，成员的私人生活也很有趣，因为流亡的经历，除了对群体的戏剧工作的辞职，意味着戏剧家和剧院经历了他们日常生活和“生活世界”的破裂，包括家庭的解体和他们在流亡国家的重建，流亡者在其中形成了新的关系和家庭群体。
{"title":"Uruguayan Theater in Exile","authors":"Luciana Scaraffuni","doi":"10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.957","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.957","url":null,"abstract":"Between 1968 and 1985, Uruguay experienced the twelve most tragic years of its history, due to the establishment of a civic–military dictatorship (1973–1985); such dictatorships came to power in various Southern Cone countries at that time: Brazil (1964), Bolivia (1971), Uruguay (1973), Chile (1973), and Argentina (1976).\u0000 In Uruguay, the roots of political violence were present before the dictatorial period, though such violence was consolidated during this time (1973 to 1985). In 1968 a state of exception was established in the country through the implementation of what were called the Medidas Prontas de Seguridad and the pro-military actions of the Jorge Pacheco Areco administration (1967–1972). Subsequent years were characterized by the consolidation of the regime under the democratically elected president Juan María Bordaberry, who commanded the dissolution of the legislature on June 27, 1973.\u0000 Due to the persecution, kidnapping, imprisonment, and disappearance of a large proportion of the population resulting from this, many Uruguayans went into exile. The experiences of a group of teatreros and teatreras, or theater workers, belonging to the El Galpón theater company, who went into exile in Mexico in 1976, are of particular interest.\u0000 Exile interpellated this group of teatreros and teatreras in various ways, by examining the cultural context, the political context, and the material conditions in which the Galponeros lived in Mexico. It also takes into account that the experience of exile led to different forms of theater work for the group. Throughout, it is necessary to understand the relationship between “the national” and “the Latin American,” to distinguish them in some way, in reference to aspects that influenced the group’s theatrical production and construction both in Mexico and on its return to Uruguay.\u0000 Similarly, members’ private lives are of interest, since the experience of exile, in addition to resignifying the theatrical work of the group, meant that the teatreros and teatreras experienced the rupturing of their daily lives and their “life world,” including the disintegration of families and their reconstruction in the countries of exile, in which the exiles formed new ties and family groups.","PeriodicalId":190332,"journal":{"name":"Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Latin American History","volume":"25 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2022-01-28","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"133124407","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2022-01-28DOI: 10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.1036
N. Duffau
The process that led to the independence of the Oriental State of Uruguay (now the Oriental Republic of Uruguay) began with the 1810 revolution and lasted until the 1828 Preliminary Peace Convention and the enactment of the first constitution in July 1830. In these twenty years, the territory of the River Plate was marked by war and various experiments of social and political organization. In the 1810s, some of the elites of the territory located on the eastern bank of the Uruguay River joined the uprising that had begun in Buenos Aires. This support for the Buenos Aires junta—the outcome of demands for the expansion of jurisdiction and greater autonomy—divided the territory between the administration of Montevideo (until 1814 in the hands of Españolistas) and a revolutionary group. In this context, a radical popular revolutionary project was produced under the leadership of José Artigas (1764–1850). This sought a federal union with other provinces along the Uruguay River and became known as the System of Free Peoples. It encountered fierce resistance from the authorities in Buenos Aires. The radicalization of certain postures among the “Orientales” (as the people in what is now Uruguay were called) was rejected by the Creole elites, who abandoned the Artiguista group and imposed restraints on the social revolution. Added to this were the occupation of the territory by Luso-Brazilian forces (who had strong local support) and the transformation of the Oriental Province into the Cisplatin Province, since 1821 part of the Portuguese Empire. In 1825, a second stage began in the fight for independence from the king of Portugal and the emperor of Brazil, and the union with the United Provinces based in Buenos Aires. Support from the latter was due to a war with Brazil, which ended with the Preliminary Convention of Peace. Signed and ratified in 1828, this allowed the creation of an independent state—with not very precise boundaries—whose first constitution was enacted in 1830. From the second half of the 19th century to the present, the independence of Uruguay has been a permanent theme of historiographic and political debate, fundamental for the definition of national identity. This discussion became intertwined with the foundation of a national account of the country and the formation of a pantheon of patriotic heroes (headed by Artigas). Views of the past, which merged with the ideological debate of each present, traveled along distant paths, ranging from the initial desire of the Orientales to construct an independent state at the beginning of the revolution, to interpretations that resignified political projects as possible alternatives as events unfolded.
{"title":"The Independence of Uruguay and the Atlantic World","authors":"N. Duffau","doi":"10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.1036","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.1036","url":null,"abstract":"The process that led to the independence of the Oriental State of Uruguay (now the Oriental Republic of Uruguay) began with the 1810 revolution and lasted until the 1828 Preliminary Peace Convention and the enactment of the first constitution in July 1830. In these twenty years, the territory of the River Plate was marked by war and various experiments of social and political organization.\u0000 In the 1810s, some of the elites of the territory located on the eastern bank of the Uruguay River joined the uprising that had begun in Buenos Aires. This support for the Buenos Aires junta—the outcome of demands for the expansion of jurisdiction and greater autonomy—divided the territory between the administration of Montevideo (until 1814 in the hands of Españolistas) and a revolutionary group. In this context, a radical popular revolutionary project was produced under the leadership of José Artigas (1764–1850). This sought a federal union with other provinces along the Uruguay River and became known as the System of Free Peoples. It encountered fierce resistance from the authorities in Buenos Aires. The radicalization of certain postures among the “Orientales” (as the people in what is now Uruguay were called) was rejected by the Creole elites, who abandoned the Artiguista group and imposed restraints on the social revolution. Added to this were the occupation of the territory by Luso-Brazilian forces (who had strong local support) and the transformation of the Oriental Province into the Cisplatin Province, since 1821 part of the Portuguese Empire.\u0000 In 1825, a second stage began in the fight for independence from the king of Portugal and the emperor of Brazil, and the union with the United Provinces based in Buenos Aires. Support from the latter was due to a war with Brazil, which ended with the Preliminary Convention of Peace. Signed and ratified in 1828, this allowed the creation of an independent state—with not very precise boundaries—whose first constitution was enacted in 1830.\u0000 From the second half of the 19th century to the present, the independence of Uruguay has been a permanent theme of historiographic and political debate, fundamental for the definition of national identity. This discussion became intertwined with the foundation of a national account of the country and the formation of a pantheon of patriotic heroes (headed by Artigas). Views of the past, which merged with the ideological debate of each present, traveled along distant paths, ranging from the initial desire of the Orientales to construct an independent state at the beginning of the revolution, to interpretations that resignified political projects as possible alternatives as events unfolded.","PeriodicalId":190332,"journal":{"name":"Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Latin American History","volume":"45 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2022-01-28","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"131026454","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2022-01-28DOI: 10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.1031
Hugo André Flores Fernandes Araújo
The Dutch West Indies Company (WIC) occupied the heart of Brazil’s sugar economy between 1630 and 1654, benefiting from the lucrative Atlantic trade based on African slave labor. The changes that occurred with the end of the Iberian Union, with D. João IV acclaimed king of Portugal in 1640 and the signing of a truce with the United Provinces in 1641, created a favorable scenario for the organization of a plan to retake the Portuguese territories. The Luso-Brazilians of the northern captaincies were in debt, and, discontented with the WIC’s administration, they took advantage of the changes to articulate a revolt to expel the Dutch from Brazil. This movement was designed to be a definitive strike against the WIC, seeking to retake the occupied territories in a few months. However, adverse factors turned the revolt into a war that lasted almost nine years. The Luso-Brazilian forces that began the revolt were not made up of professional soldiers, and the men were often poorly equipped and suffered from a lack of supplies. The revolt had the veiled support of the general government of Brazil and the Portuguese king, who provided troops, ammunition, and money that were used to maintain the army and bribe Dutch officers. The wars that took place on both shores of the Atlantic during this period directly influenced the course of the revolt. The Portuguese reconquest of Angola in 1648 was a heavy blow to the main source of slaves that the WIC used in Brazil, while the defeats suffered during the First Anglo-Dutch War (1652–1654) weakened the ability of the Dutch to maintain maritime control in northeast Brazil. The deterioration caused by the prolonged war, the successive defeats, and the weak support of the WIC and the United Provinces to their forces in Brazil led the Dutch to capitulate in 1654, in the face of a naval blockade carried out by the fleet of the General Brazil Company.
{"title":"The Insurrection of Pernambuco and the Surrender of the Dutch in Brazil (1645–1654)","authors":"Hugo André Flores Fernandes Araújo","doi":"10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.1031","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.1031","url":null,"abstract":"The Dutch West Indies Company (WIC) occupied the heart of Brazil’s sugar economy between 1630 and 1654, benefiting from the lucrative Atlantic trade based on African slave labor. The changes that occurred with the end of the Iberian Union, with D. João IV acclaimed king of Portugal in 1640 and the signing of a truce with the United Provinces in 1641, created a favorable scenario for the organization of a plan to retake the Portuguese territories. The Luso-Brazilians of the northern captaincies were in debt, and, discontented with the WIC’s administration, they took advantage of the changes to articulate a revolt to expel the Dutch from Brazil.\u0000 This movement was designed to be a definitive strike against the WIC, seeking to retake the occupied territories in a few months. However, adverse factors turned the revolt into a war that lasted almost nine years. The Luso-Brazilian forces that began the revolt were not made up of professional soldiers, and the men were often poorly equipped and suffered from a lack of supplies. The revolt had the veiled support of the general government of Brazil and the Portuguese king, who provided troops, ammunition, and money that were used to maintain the army and bribe Dutch officers. The wars that took place on both shores of the Atlantic during this period directly influenced the course of the revolt. The Portuguese reconquest of Angola in 1648 was a heavy blow to the main source of slaves that the WIC used in Brazil, while the defeats suffered during the First Anglo-Dutch War (1652–1654) weakened the ability of the Dutch to maintain maritime control in northeast Brazil. The deterioration caused by the prolonged war, the successive defeats, and the weak support of the WIC and the United Provinces to their forces in Brazil led the Dutch to capitulate in 1654, in the face of a naval blockade carried out by the fleet of the General Brazil Company.","PeriodicalId":190332,"journal":{"name":"Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Latin American History","volume":"19 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2022-01-28","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"114891954","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-12-22DOI: 10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.432
Nicole von Germeten
The European ideas associated with witchcraft came to the Americas as a multipronged weapon of imperialism, a conception of non-Christian beliefs not as separate worldviews but as manifestations of evil and the reigning power of the devil over Indigenous peoples and, slightly later, African slaves and free people of African origins or heritage. To create this imperialist concept, colonizers drew from a late medieval demonological literature that defined witchcraft as ways of influencing one’s fate through a pact with the devil and the ritual of witches’ sabbaths. Through the court structure of the Holy Offices of the Spanish and Portuguese Inquisitions, Iberian imperialists set up judicial processes that they designed to elicit confessions from their colonial subjects regarding their involvement in what was labeled witchcraft and witches’ sabbaths, but which was most likely either non-European beliefs and practices, or even popular European ideas of healing. Archival documents from the Holy Office fueled Europeans’ vision of themselves as on the side of cosmic good as well as providing some details regarding popular practices such as divination and love magic. Whatever ethnographic details emerge from this documentation, the use of the terminology of witchcraft always signals an imperialistic lens.
{"title":"Witchcraft in Colonial Latin America","authors":"Nicole von Germeten","doi":"10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.432","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.432","url":null,"abstract":"The European ideas associated with witchcraft came to the Americas as a multipronged weapon of imperialism, a conception of non-Christian beliefs not as separate worldviews but as manifestations of evil and the reigning power of the devil over Indigenous peoples and, slightly later, African slaves and free people of African origins or heritage. To create this imperialist concept, colonizers drew from a late medieval demonological literature that defined witchcraft as ways of influencing one’s fate through a pact with the devil and the ritual of witches’ sabbaths. Through the court structure of the Holy Offices of the Spanish and Portuguese Inquisitions, Iberian imperialists set up judicial processes that they designed to elicit confessions from their colonial subjects regarding their involvement in what was labeled witchcraft and witches’ sabbaths, but which was most likely either non-European beliefs and practices, or even popular European ideas of healing. Archival documents from the Holy Office fueled Europeans’ vision of themselves as on the side of cosmic good as well as providing some details regarding popular practices such as divination and love magic. Whatever ethnographic details emerge from this documentation, the use of the terminology of witchcraft always signals an imperialistic lens.","PeriodicalId":190332,"journal":{"name":"Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Latin American History","volume":"8 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2021-12-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"128829902","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-12-22DOI: 10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.1018
V. Walker
Human rights was perhaps the defining feature of Jimmy Carter’s presidency. Although much attention was given at the time to its impact on US relations with the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, Latin America was equally, if not more, important in defining and implementing Carter’s vision of a human rights foreign policy. Latin America was the site of some of the Carter administration’s most visible and concentrated human rights diplomacy, and revealed the central logic and persistent challenges of implementing a coherent, comprehensive human rights policy that worked in tandem with other US interests. Carter’s Latin America policy reimagined US national interests and paired human rights with greater respect for national sovereignty, challenging US patterns of intervention and alignment with right-wing anticommunist dictatorships throughout the Cold War. In the Southern Cone, the Carter administration’s efforts to distance the United States from repressive Cold War allies and foster improvements in human rights conditions provoked nationalist backlash from the military regimes, and faced domestic criticism about the economic and security costs of new human rights policies. Similarly, in Central America, the administration faced the challenge of reforming relations with abusive anticommunist allies in Nicaragua, Guatemala, and El Salvador without supporting communist revolution. Its tepid and cautious response to violence by the Central American governments called into question the Carter administration’s commitment to its human rights agenda. In Cuba, the Carter administration sought to advance human rights as part of a larger effort to normalize relations between the two countries, an effort that was ultimately stymied by both geopolitical dynamics and domestic politics. Although limited in the fundamental changes it could coax from foreign governments and societies, the administration’s policy had a tangible impact in specific high-profile human rights cases. In the long term, it helped legitimize human rights as part of international diplomacy in Latin America and beyond, amplifying the work of other government and nongovernment proponents of human rights.
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Pub Date : 2021-12-22DOI: 10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.991
A. Wright
Latin America is thought to be the world’s most biodiverse region, but as in the rest of the world, the number of species and the size of their populations is generally in sharp decline. Most experts consider agriculture to be the most important cause of biodiversity decline. At one extreme of policy argument regarding biodiversity conservation are those who argue that the only path to species protection is the establishment of many more and larger “protected areas” in which human activities will be severely restricted. On the remaining land agriculture will be carried out largely with the presently prevailing methods of “industrial agriculture,” including heavy reliance on synthetic pesticides and fertilizers, heavy machine use, large-scale irrigation schemes, limited crop diversity, and crops genetically engineered to maximize returns from these tools and techniques. Those who argue for these policies largely accept that industrial agriculture of this sort is severely hostile to biodiversity, but argue that the high productivity of such methods makes it possible to limit agriculture to a relatively small land base, leaving the rest for protected areas and other human activities. On the other side of the argument are those who argue that agricultural techniques are either available or can be created to make agricultural areas more favorable to species survival. They argue that even with a desirable expansion of protected areas, such reserves cannot successfully maintain high biodiversity levels if protected reserves are not complemented by an agriculture more friendly to species survival and migration. The policy arguments on these issues are of major human and biological importance. They are also very complex and depend on theoretical perspectives and data that do not provide definitive guidance. One way to enrich the debate is to develop a specifically historical perspective that illuminates the relationship between human actions and species diversity. In Latin America, humans have been modifying landscapes and species composition of landscapes for thousands of years. Even in areas of presently low human population density and extraordinarily high species diversity, such as remaining tropical rainforests, humans may have been active in shaping species composition for millennia. After 1492, human population levels in Latin America plummeted with the introduction of Old-World diseases. It is often assumed that this led to a blossoming of species diversity, but the historical evidence from 1492 to the present strongly suggests the combination of European technologies and the integration of agriculture into world markets meant more damaging use of soils, widespread deforestation, and subsequent decline in species numbers. The exploitation and consequent despoliation of Latin American resources were integral to colonialism and intensified later by national governments focused on rapid economic growth. High species diversity remained in areas that w
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Pub Date : 2021-12-22DOI: 10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.934
Daniel Efraín Navarro Granados
At the beginning of the 20th century, the charro, a traditional figure from the rural world, emerged on the Mexican cultural scene as a relevant stereotype. In the following years, the charro transformed into a national personification of Mexico, especially once it became a key figure of Mexican cinema and mariachi music. Notwithstanding this fact, its trajectory was more convoluted than it seems, and different versions of the character coexisted at least until the 1920s. Whereas the charro was usually represented as an attractive and seductive man, there was also a comic version, portrayed as an overweight or unkempt man with a provincial mentality. The characters played by the comic performer Leopoldo Beristáin and the protagonists of Sunday comic strips, such as Don Catarino and Mamerto Albondiguilla, were some examples of the latter. While the positive interpretation of the charro ended up prevailing as the main iteration of the character, the comic depictions of this stereotype show the rejection and contempt that the urban population felt for a rural world that had invaded the Mexican capital as a result of the revolution—a world perceived as provincial, backward, and laughable, an idea that would dominate foreign and national imageries of Mexico.
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