For the past thirty years, the imprint “Editorial Joaquín Mortiz” has stood for innovation, quality, and prestige in Mexican literature. After it was founded in 1962, Joaquín Mortiz quickly emerged as the premier literary publisher in Mexico and has provided readers with many of the novels and short stories now recognized as landmarks defining the contemporary canon of Mexican fiction. Most studies of Mexican narrative of the 1960s have tended to emphasize the dichotomy between the elitist self-conscious experimentation of escritura writing and the irreverent youthful exuberance of onda writing. Shifting the focus from texts to publishers, however, reveals a different configuration. Editorial Joaquín Mortiz actually encouraged both these trends by cultivating the work of escritura authors such as Salvador Elizondo, Juan García Ponce, and José Emilio Pacheco along with those of onda authors like Gustavo Sainz and José Agustín. Moreover, during its first two years, Joaquín Mortiz staked much of its early reputation on promoting two Mexican novels now fundamental to women's writing throughout Latin America: Oficio de tinieblas (1962) by Rosario Castellanos and Los recuerdos del porvenir (1963) by Elena Garro. Thus Editorial Joaquín Mortiz has greatly influenced the development of contemporary Mexican narrative.

In the “fourth wave” of transitions to democracy sweeping the globe over the past twenty years, the Chilean case stands out as an exception. Although most instances of democratization following military rule have tended to yield rightist governments, Chile is one country in which the ruling coalition that emerged was Center-Left in ideological orientation.

This essay seeks to categorize and assess works published since the 1950s on the activities of the tribunal of the Santo Oficio de la Inquisición of Lima and their repercussions on the social history of the viceroyalty of Peru. The studies made of the Inquisition in recent decades, in going beyond a merely descriptive focus or one biased by the old prejudices of the “Black Legend,” have highlighted the exceptional value of the records of the Lima Inquisition for acquainting researchers with interesting dimensions on the level of mentalities, ideas, attitudes, and behaviors—that is to say, in the expressions of the deepest impulses of the human soul. This trend has allowed historians to modify their image of the Inquisition in the Spanish metropolis and in its former colonies in America.

The politics of inflation typically have been cast as reflecting an underlying “collective-action problem,” in which actions that would benefit the entire group are irrational from the viewpoint of each individual. Everyone would be better off without inflation. But in the absence of a mechanism that would permit social groups such as workers and owners to construct a lasting bargain, each group finds itself structurally obliged to push for higher money incomes, even if each one knows that any temporary gains in real income will be inflated away. Brazilian inflation has been described in these terms (Franco 1989). This article will suggest instead that the attitudes of one key Brazilian social group may be better understood as a case of “rent seeking.” In other countries, financial capital as a net-creditor sector opposes inflation. But because of Brazil's unique set of financial regulations, Brazilian bankers and upper-income investors have reaped substantial economic benefits from inflation in recent decades. Although they might prefer as citizens to have lower inflation, their rational economic interests give them few strong reasons to make sacrifices in the interest of solving society's “collective-action problem.” Because not all important actors desire stabilization, bringing prices down becomes intrinsically more difficult than if the problem were simply one of finding a means of overcoming mutual distrust to reach a cooperative solution.

Historical studies of Andean popular religion have largely been confined to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, in the main exegeses of the early chronicles and the rich materials on “extirpation of idolatry.” The eighteenth and nineteenth centuries remain largely terra incognita, while information on twentieth-century popular religion has come primarily from ethnographic field studies. More recently, historians and anthropologists have begun to explore the religious or messianic dimension of the great uprisings of 1780–1783 in the southern Andean sierra, taking their cue from a 1955 essay by John Rowe on a purported “Inca nationalism.” Yet between early-colonial historiography and twentieth-century ethnography, one encounters a virtual silence of two centuries. This hiatus is largely explained by the lack of printed sources for the period and the consequent need to sieve scarce data from archives. Also pertinent is the fact that by the end of the seventeenth century, the tide of early-modern missionary zeal had ebbed. That waning of interest in extirpatory endeavors by church and state alike coincided with a diminution of witch-hunts in Europe generally and a decline in the influence and fervor of the Inquisition in Spain specifically.

The economic crisis of the 1980s and the shift to outward-looking development strategies ignited interest in promoting agricultural exports throughout Latin America. In the 1990s, export strategies continue to dominate discussion on agricultural development in the region. Especially for smaller developing countries in Latin America, agricultural and natural-resource exports appear likely to lead efforts to stimulate export growth. Extraordinarily rapid agro-export growth has already been achieved in many countries. From the middle to late 1980s, nontraditional agricultural exports grew at rates of 222 percent in Chile, 78 percent in Guatemala, and 348 percent in Costa Rica. In Paraguay, the most agrarian country in Latin America, agricultural exports nearly tripled during the otherwise difficult decade of the 1980s.

The observation that redemocratization in Latin America is a fragile process has become a commonplace in the social science literature of the past few years. The social movements crucial to the return of procedural democracy have, we are told, lost their momentum to the very forces they helped to restore. Electoral democracy has returned in many places with neoclientelistic overtones that are eroding the gains in consciousness achieved in the nonelectoral years (Hagopian 1993). The absence of a common enemy, most often an authoritarian military regime, has tended to mask less visible but often equally pernicious enemies in the form of violence that is nonofficial but tolerated nonetheless (Pinheiro 1992). And although procedural democratic practices may have returned for the middle classes, nothing inherent in the transition to democracy guarantees either procedural or substantive democracy for the lower classes (Huggins, ed., 1991; O'Donnell 1992; Fox 1994a).

Slavery in the interior state of Minas Gerais has been a focal point of the voluminous historiography appearing on Brazilian slavery in the past twenty years. During the mineral boom of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, Minas was the key region of the colonial Brazilian economy and the largest slaveholding capitania. The older literature on Brazilian history recognized the centrality of slave labor to the eighteenth-century mining sector but concluded that as the mining boom waned after 1750, slavery began to disintegrate. The history of Minas Gerais after the boom was interpreted as a long period of economic stagnation accompanied by reversion to cattle raising and subsistence agriculture, slow demographic growth, and the transfer of the Mineiro slave population during the nineteenth century to the more dynamic coffee-growing areas in Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo.

A recurring theme in the study of social stability is the relation of rural conditions to political violence and revolution as well as to subtler and less violent forms of opposition and resistance. El Salvador has served as an example for study because of its recent twelve-year civil war and the participation of its rural population. Given the depth and richness of data concerning rural conditions leading up to the civil war, it is somewhat baffling to find that rural social tensions are explained away in the terms used by Mitchell Seligson in “Thirty Years of Agrarian Transformation in El Salvador.”

As a preeminent enduring regime in the world today, Mexico provides a compelling case study regarding the nature and locus of power. Since the 1970s, accounts of politics in postrevolutionary Mexico have assumed that ongoing domination has resulted from centralized, relatively homogeneous power transmitted outward through corporatist mechanisms. The process of transmission replicated the dynamics of the center through a combination of skillful management and efficient coercion. Even now, as researchers are emphasizing the breakdown of corporatism and the complexity and nuance of current Mexican politics, they continue to codify the past according to the terms of the 1970s analysis and view the present through this lens. But while social scientists in the 1970s were right to characterize the postrevolutionary Mexican regime as authoritarian and hegemonic, they were wrong about the nature of hegemony. In constructing a state-centered and center-centered understanding of politics, social scientists then and now have misunderstood the nature of power and domination in Mexico and the reasons for the endurance of the Mexican regime.

In the liberal tradition, democracy is often defined by the holding of open elections and the preservation of a given set of civil rights and liberties. As neoliberal democratic governments emerge around the world, the relationship between democracy and a citizen's democratic rights is rapidly being redefined. In the ensuing debates, access to information has become an important issue. Many of these new governments, in their efforts to project themselves as “democratic,” have moved quickly to declassify a host of documents. This strategy has resulted in a tidal wave of revisionist research. One of the countries following this trend is Brazil.

The causes as well as the consequences of land reform are revolutionary. Land reform is not really reform at all. In an agrarian society, land reform is a revolutionary act because it redistributes the major source of wealth, social standing, and political power. Successful large-scale land reforms in Latin America and elsewhere occur only during social revolution or through the actions of invading armies imposing revolution from above. The land reforms in Mexico, Bolivia, Peru, Cuba, and Nicaragua occurred during revolutions; the land reforms in Japan and Taiwan were imposed by invading armies. The reform in South Korea apparently represented a combination of the two. Fundamental land reform without social transformation is a logical and practical impossibility. This is the reason why land reform as a counterrevolutionary strategy, such as the ill-fated “land-to-the-tiller” program attempted in Vietnam, is bound to fail.

Strikes have important effects on the workers and employers directly involved as well as significant indirect effects on consumers, economic growth, electoral outcomes, policy making, and political stability. Moreover, strikes form patterns that illuminate long-term social processes, the dynamics of economic and political conflict, and the functioning of industrial relations systems. Because strikes are important as both causes and symptoms of social change, an extensive literature has arisen on patterns of strike activity. To date, however, this literature has focused mainly on advanced industrial countries. To prepare the way for analyses of strike patterns in Latin America, more research is needed on the ways in which Latin American strike statistics have been collected and reported. This research note will report the results of such research for Argentina. The first section will assess the quality of strike statistics covering a century of Argentine history. The second section will compare four sources of data on Argentine strikes since the return to democracy in 1983, focusing on particularly useful data published by the Consejo Técnico de Inversiones (CTI) in Buenos Aires. The third section will make the CTI statistics available for research and will employ them to assess some widely held assumptions about labor militancy in Argentina during the period from 1984 to 1993.