In this week's reading, I extremely enjoyed Creelman's account of Porfirio Diaz. It was a refreshing outlook on a man I have studied in many other classes in my time here at UBC. In this blog post, I want to shine a light on the correlation between this week's title (The Export Boom) and the week's reading. Thus, I took a deep dive into Porfirio Diaz's foreign policy and diplomacy during his tenure.
At first, I thought we studied Porfirio Diaz in this week because from what I have read, anti-porfirista historiography has argued that in Diaz's drive to obtain international recognition and, above all, to secure the foreign investment which its economic policy required to fuel economic development, his regime betrayed the interests of the nation, throwing its arms open to rapacious foreign entrepreneurs who exploited the country's resources. Mexico's political and economic sovereignty was, it is argued, seriously abused in the process. Thus, I thought the correlation lied somewhere around this interpretation.
But then I started investigating why Porfirio developed the international relations agenda he had, and I found that Mexico had a difficult beginning to its development as a nation. Namely, during the first 50 years of its life as an independent nation, there had been a number of serious external threats to Mexican sovereignty. Post-colonial retribution - from Spain in 1829 - and neo-colonial ambition - from the USA in 1847-48 and France between 1862 and 1867 - these had all threatened Mexico's survival as an independent nation and had made nineteenth-century governments acutely aware of the external threats to national self-determination. This explains partially why liberal policy in Mexico after 1855 linked diplomatic recognition with the development of economic links to outside nations.
Thus, I now understand why late-nineteenth-century liberals of the Reforma and Porfiriato were therefore faced with the difficult task of protecting national sovereignty. Furthermore, I comprehend why they concurrently opened up national frontiers to foreign capital, investment, and colonization. This is due to one main reason: they saw these goals as complementary rather than contradictory.
Monday, October 14, 2019
Monday, October 7, 2019
Blog Post #6: Week 6
In this week's blog post I was particularly interested in the concept of constitutionalism in Latin America. In my perspective, constitutions are the backbone of citizenship and studying the way laws and first principles have been forged in Latin America will give us a comprehensive understanding of the rule of law in this region.
To study this, I read Mirrow's Latin American Constitutions. This book provided me with a comprehensive historical study of the concept of constitutionalism in Latin America. It ventures out from the independence period (similar to the ones we studied in Week 4) to the current day. One of the most important focus areas of the book is the Constitution of Cadiz. After coming across this topic, I shifted my focus to this document.
The Constitution of Cádiz or the Spanish Constitution of 1812 has an important place in the development of liberal constitutionalism in Europe and Latin America. It also played a very big role in the independence of many Latin American republics. This is because in Cádiz. “The American
question” involved issues of the representation of American populations and the citizenship of indigenous populations. Whether various populations counted for purposes of representation was debated with concern and passion in this document. Just as the United States Constitution was forced to consider issues of slaves, slavery, and the slave trade, so too we find these issues at the forefront of the American question in Cádiz, Spain.
I would like to argue that these constitutional ideas and experiences were brought back to Latin America countries, many of which were already well on the path to complete independence.
To study this, I read Mirrow's Latin American Constitutions. This book provided me with a comprehensive historical study of the concept of constitutionalism in Latin America. It ventures out from the independence period (similar to the ones we studied in Week 4) to the current day. One of the most important focus areas of the book is the Constitution of Cadiz. After coming across this topic, I shifted my focus to this document.
The Constitution of Cádiz or the Spanish Constitution of 1812 has an important place in the development of liberal constitutionalism in Europe and Latin America. It also played a very big role in the independence of many Latin American republics. This is because in Cádiz. “The American
question” involved issues of the representation of American populations and the citizenship of indigenous populations. Whether various populations counted for purposes of representation was debated with concern and passion in this document. Just as the United States Constitution was forced to consider issues of slaves, slavery, and the slave trade, so too we find these issues at the forefront of the American question in Cádiz, Spain.
I would like to argue that these constitutional ideas and experiences were brought back to Latin America countries, many of which were already well on the path to complete independence.
Monday, September 30, 2019
Blog Post #5: Week 5
My blog post is an examination of the term caudillo. Admittedly, I had little knowledge of the term, so here is my investigation.
While there is no universal definition that fits every caudillo under all circumstances, scholars generally agree on a cluster of attributes that most caudillos shared and that together provide a viable working definition of the caudillo phenomenon. In general, a caudillo was a political-military strongman who wielded political authority and exercised political and military power by virtue of personal charisma, control of resources such as land and property, the personal loyalty of his followers and clients, reliance on extensive clientage networks, the capacity to dispense patronage and resources to clients, and personal control of the means of organized violence. The keyword is personal: a caudillo was a type of leader, marked by his style of leadership, and most defined by the personal nature of his rule. Constitutions, state bureaucracies, representative assemblies, periodic elections—these and other institutional constraints on individual and personal power, commonly associated with modern state forms, all were antithetical to the caudillo style of rule, while also often coexisting in tension with it. Ideology mattered little.
A good example of a caudillo is Rosas. Scion of an elite porteño (Buenos Aires) Creole family, Rosas left the port city as a young man to become a cattle rancher. Rosas was opposed to the liberal, unitarian, modernizing regime of Bernardino Rivadavia, whose policies were designed to make Buenos Aire's equal with the other provinces of the Río de la Plata. His opposition to Rivadavia was not rooted in ideology but in the belief that Buenos Aires should retain its superior power. With his base of support secure, Rosas allied with the federalists who overthrew Rivadavia. Soon after, he became the governor of Buenos Aires and then absolute dictator. His style of leadership was profoundly personal: All power and authority flowed directly from him.
There is no scholarly consensus on when the caudillo phenomenon ended, or even if it has ended. Some point to the first half of the 19th century as the heyday of caudillos and caudillismo; others argue that the phenomenon continued into the 20th century and after, transmuting into various forms of populism and dictatorship, and manifest in the likes of Juan Perón of Argentina, Fidel Castro of Cuba, and Hugo Chávez of Venezuela. Despite vigorous debates over definitions, origins, periodization, and other aspects, however, few disagree that understanding the phenomenon of the caudillo and caudillismo is essential to understanding the political evolution of post-independence Latin America.
While there is no universal definition that fits every caudillo under all circumstances, scholars generally agree on a cluster of attributes that most caudillos shared and that together provide a viable working definition of the caudillo phenomenon. In general, a caudillo was a political-military strongman who wielded political authority and exercised political and military power by virtue of personal charisma, control of resources such as land and property, the personal loyalty of his followers and clients, reliance on extensive clientage networks, the capacity to dispense patronage and resources to clients, and personal control of the means of organized violence. The keyword is personal: a caudillo was a type of leader, marked by his style of leadership, and most defined by the personal nature of his rule. Constitutions, state bureaucracies, representative assemblies, periodic elections—these and other institutional constraints on individual and personal power, commonly associated with modern state forms, all were antithetical to the caudillo style of rule, while also often coexisting in tension with it. Ideology mattered little.
A good example of a caudillo is Rosas. Scion of an elite porteño (Buenos Aires) Creole family, Rosas left the port city as a young man to become a cattle rancher. Rosas was opposed to the liberal, unitarian, modernizing regime of Bernardino Rivadavia, whose policies were designed to make Buenos Aire's equal with the other provinces of the Río de la Plata. His opposition to Rivadavia was not rooted in ideology but in the belief that Buenos Aires should retain its superior power. With his base of support secure, Rosas allied with the federalists who overthrew Rivadavia. Soon after, he became the governor of Buenos Aires and then absolute dictator. His style of leadership was profoundly personal: All power and authority flowed directly from him.
There is no scholarly consensus on when the caudillo phenomenon ended, or even if it has ended. Some point to the first half of the 19th century as the heyday of caudillos and caudillismo; others argue that the phenomenon continued into the 20th century and after, transmuting into various forms of populism and dictatorship, and manifest in the likes of Juan Perón of Argentina, Fidel Castro of Cuba, and Hugo Chávez of Venezuela. Despite vigorous debates over definitions, origins, periodization, and other aspects, however, few disagree that understanding the phenomenon of the caudillo and caudillismo is essential to understanding the political evolution of post-independence Latin America.
Monday, September 23, 2019
Blog Post #4: Week 4
For this week's blog post, I want to discuss Marti's narrative. In Puerto Rico, Marti is revered as one of the most influential intellectuals of the Caribbean in the last two centuries. Thus, I desired to historically investigate his contribution. Namely, this post will attempt to explain and contextualize Marti's "Nuestra America."
The article was written in 1891 in New York. It's written as a direct response to the first Pan-American Conference that took place in 1890. The conference tried to establish a diplomatic relationship between North and Latin America. Thus, the utmost objective of the meeting was the establishment of Pan-Americanism as a new way of interaction between the two hemispheres. But, José Martí did not agree with this conceptualization of uniting these two hemispheres. He tried to oppose this concept by emphasizing the differences between the United States and “Our America.“
To understand Martí‘s essay, it's also crucial to analyze what was happening in Cuba. Under Spanish occupation, Cuba was struggling hard to become independent from Europe, while also fighting the potential threat of its neighbor North America. After the U.S. had successfully taken over California, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, and Utah as well as parts of Colorado, Wyoming, and Kansas from its neighbor Mexico, it seemed to be more and more interested in Cuba as another addition to its territory. In addition to this threat from Cuba‘s North American neighbor, it was still trying to liberate itself from its colonizer in Europe. After the Grito de Yara in 1868, the first declaration of independence, Cuba was at war with Spain for ten years, which very much helped it to form a distinctive Cuban identity, but also had profound impacts on its economy. In the Paz de Zanjón (Peace of Zanjón) Spain tried to make some minor concessions that were rejected by the rebels. José Martí then founded the Revolutionary Party of Cuba in 1892 and mobilized Cuba to rise again against Spain in 1895.
This is the situation in which José Martí wrote his famous essay “Nuestra América.“ He tries to create a Latin American identity and to liberate Latin America from the oppression of the powerful neighbor North America and the former colonizer Europe. The article is addressed to his own people, especially Cuban intellectuals living in exile, as a call for unity and shared identity, but also to Europe and the United States for them to understand the differences between North America and Latin America.
The article was written in 1891 in New York. It's written as a direct response to the first Pan-American Conference that took place in 1890. The conference tried to establish a diplomatic relationship between North and Latin America. Thus, the utmost objective of the meeting was the establishment of Pan-Americanism as a new way of interaction between the two hemispheres. But, José Martí did not agree with this conceptualization of uniting these two hemispheres. He tried to oppose this concept by emphasizing the differences between the United States and “Our America.“
To understand Martí‘s essay, it's also crucial to analyze what was happening in Cuba. Under Spanish occupation, Cuba was struggling hard to become independent from Europe, while also fighting the potential threat of its neighbor North America. After the U.S. had successfully taken over California, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, and Utah as well as parts of Colorado, Wyoming, and Kansas from its neighbor Mexico, it seemed to be more and more interested in Cuba as another addition to its territory. In addition to this threat from Cuba‘s North American neighbor, it was still trying to liberate itself from its colonizer in Europe. After the Grito de Yara in 1868, the first declaration of independence, Cuba was at war with Spain for ten years, which very much helped it to form a distinctive Cuban identity, but also had profound impacts on its economy. In the Paz de Zanjón (Peace of Zanjón) Spain tried to make some minor concessions that were rejected by the rebels. José Martí then founded the Revolutionary Party of Cuba in 1892 and mobilized Cuba to rise again against Spain in 1895.
This is the situation in which José Martí wrote his famous essay “Nuestra América.“ He tries to create a Latin American identity and to liberate Latin America from the oppression of the powerful neighbor North America and the former colonizer Europe. The article is addressed to his own people, especially Cuban intellectuals living in exile, as a call for unity and shared identity, but also to Europe and the United States for them to understand the differences between North America and Latin America.
Monday, September 16, 2019
Blog Post #3: Week 3
A common denominator with different casta paintings is how they treat race as a central aspect of the piece of art. This is due to the definition of casta: a term that describes mixed-race individuals in Spanish America, resulting from unions of Spaniards, Indigenous, and Africans. In many casta paintings, we can see depictions of the ethnic and racial combinations resulting from mestizaje, such as mulatos. Casta paintings offer rich insights on the quotidian practices of colonial individuals, including dress, diet, and household practices; this is information that archaeologists desire. Thus, they're not only beautiful pieces of art but more than that, they represent historical data.
However, (as we see with Lieutenant Nun) there are many stories and experiences that these paintings lack. There are without a doubt some stories that these paintings fail to capture, which can only be captured with words on a piece of paper. These paintings represent a static image of a supposedly highly structured and regulated colonial world that was imposed on colonial peoples through their bodies. I'm interested in the moments where visual and archaeological pieces of evidence provide different stories. These paintings are used to explore how the imagined, ordered world depicted in casta paintings meshed with daily life in colonial communities. But, what happens when historical documents, and material culture trump the reality that is portrayed in the painting?
When we use paintings as historical data, there are many positives. For example, (1) it shows a visual record of a particular moment in time, (2) it conveys a variety of details about people, places, objects, and events, and (3) it portrays information about everyday life and behaviour that is best communicated in visual terms (hair and clothing styles, interior design). On the other hand, paintings or images, in general, can also portray a tainted illustration of the event since the relationship of the painter to his or her subject is not always clear. One example could be that the emotions and thoughts of those involved are not evident. So, what does this mean?
This means that when we study casta paintings, it's important to study them in conjunction with other historical data. This is due to the fact that information from paintings is often suggestive rather than definitive; we must pair paintings with other evidence such as documents and oral histories, to determine if the information is unusual or part of a larger pattern.
So, that ends my investigation for this week, and here I propose my question for the class:
What are the limitations of using a painting as a historical source?
Monday, September 9, 2019
Blog Post #2: Week 2
Question for the week:
Do you think the colonization movement was empathetic? Is it reasonable to demand empathy from them?
In this week's readings and videos, I revisit a topic I have studied all my life: Cristopher Columbus and his discovery of America. In the Puerto Rican educational system, we all go through a weird relationship with Columbus. When one is in middle school, I remember reading idealistic portrayals of Columbus, portrayed as a man with a cause. Someone who inspired to inspire. As the years went by, and the history courses started using more primary resources, my conceptualization of Columbus began to morph. It suddenly became odd to label Columbus as the "man who freed us," which is how I remember reading about him in middle school.
Why so? Because of people like Guaman Poma. Poma was an Andean native, a member of the Yarovilca dynasty, born around 1535. After collaborating with the Spanish against his fellow Indians, he eventually became active on behalf of Andean causes. He spent roughly three decades composing his impassioned letter to the King, which he titled "Nueva Coronica I Buen Gobierno," or "New Chronicle and Good Government." He wanted autonomy. And he felt that the incredible suffering at the hands of the colonizers was uncalled for.
Who were the Spaniards to consider themselves as "better rulers" just because of their advanced technologies and different beliefs? Who were they to IMPOSE their way of life into the traditional lifestyle that the Indigenous people of the "Old World" carried?
These questions illuminate the most disappointing fact about the colonization era: the lack of empathy. The colonizers thought they had a mission. But their purpose was utterly unilateral. They didn't care to communicate with these people. They didn't mind learning about their customs. They didn't think they were capable enough to have worthy ideas or conceptions of the world.
It wasn't until someone like Poma spoke to them in their own language that they took a decision. Poma had to depict scenes of unspeakable violence and outrage against natives. For example, a wide-eyed priest kicking a pregnant woman who kneels at his feet, or a magistrate and lieutenant pulling the sheet that covers a nude Indian woman, or the decapitation of an Incan. Guaman Poma spoke in their language, using imagery that argued for the dignity of his people and the logic of self-rule.
You may be wondering, what decision did the colonizers take after examining Poma's manuscript? The colonial authorities deemed him a subversive and exiled from Haumanga, the city where he lived.
Do you think the colonization movement was empathetic? Is it reasonable to demand empathy from them?
In this week's readings and videos, I revisit a topic I have studied all my life: Cristopher Columbus and his discovery of America. In the Puerto Rican educational system, we all go through a weird relationship with Columbus. When one is in middle school, I remember reading idealistic portrayals of Columbus, portrayed as a man with a cause. Someone who inspired to inspire. As the years went by, and the history courses started using more primary resources, my conceptualization of Columbus began to morph. It suddenly became odd to label Columbus as the "man who freed us," which is how I remember reading about him in middle school.
Why so? Because of people like Guaman Poma. Poma was an Andean native, a member of the Yarovilca dynasty, born around 1535. After collaborating with the Spanish against his fellow Indians, he eventually became active on behalf of Andean causes. He spent roughly three decades composing his impassioned letter to the King, which he titled "Nueva Coronica I Buen Gobierno," or "New Chronicle and Good Government." He wanted autonomy. And he felt that the incredible suffering at the hands of the colonizers was uncalled for.
Who were the Spaniards to consider themselves as "better rulers" just because of their advanced technologies and different beliefs? Who were they to IMPOSE their way of life into the traditional lifestyle that the Indigenous people of the "Old World" carried?
These questions illuminate the most disappointing fact about the colonization era: the lack of empathy. The colonizers thought they had a mission. But their purpose was utterly unilateral. They didn't care to communicate with these people. They didn't mind learning about their customs. They didn't think they were capable enough to have worthy ideas or conceptions of the world.
It wasn't until someone like Poma spoke to them in their own language that they took a decision. Poma had to depict scenes of unspeakable violence and outrage against natives. For example, a wide-eyed priest kicking a pregnant woman who kneels at his feet, or a magistrate and lieutenant pulling the sheet that covers a nude Indian woman, or the decapitation of an Incan. Guaman Poma spoke in their language, using imagery that argued for the dignity of his people and the logic of self-rule.
You may be wondering, what decision did the colonizers take after examining Poma's manuscript? The colonial authorities deemed him a subversive and exiled from Haumanga, the city where he lived.
Blog Post #1: Week 1
*Because of my love of economics and math, I like to name things arbitrarily to maximize clarity. In this blog post, I will label the video on Marti as A and the video on the uncertain future of Latin America as B*
In this week's videos, I was particularly moved by two subject matters. Namely, I enjoyed the videos labeled as "Marti and Cuba" (A) and "Towards an Uncertain Future" (B). I think these two videos work perfectly with each other because of my belief that Latin America needs influential leaders such as Marti to cause a change in these uncertain times.
Let's analyze the first video, A. In A, I was moved by the allusions to my geographical Caribbean partner, Cuba and its patriotic icon, Jose Marti. Jose Marti, venerated as the father of Cuban independence, is one of Latin America's most famous leaders. He lived in exile in New York, earning his living as a foreign correspondent. Throughout the 1880s and early 1890s, it was through Marti's gaze that Latin Americans were able to see and understand the United States. In essence, he was one of the gatekeepers between the New World (the economic powerhouse of the US) and Old World (the economically developing Cuba).
Then, in the second video, B, I enjoyed the economic data they provided about the history of Latin America. Particularly, the way the footage analyzed the critical question of "How in fact do you reform institutions with long histories of corruption and mismanagement?" was awe-inspiring. It reminded me of the striking finding in a World Bank study called Understanding the Income and Efficiency Gap in Latin America and the Caribbean. Here, economists try to pin numbers into the fact that Countries in Latin America and the Caribbean could have been twice as productive, had they enjoyed the same level of efficiency in the capital and labor use as in the US. In this study, they conclude that a possible answer to the regions efficiency gap is that the region’s workers produce on average just a fifth of the output of a US worker.
So, how do these videos/studies relate to each other? I think that they meet in the intersection of economics and culture: we need more capable leaders in Latin America. Learning from Marti, and having a comprehensive view on the uncertainty in Latin America, is essential to cause a change in this troubled region. The members of the diaspora are imperative to cause economic well-being.
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