In the summer of 1835 Mexico chose to abandon the federal form of government instituted a decade earlier in 1824 and to replace it with a centralized republic. The dismantling of federal laws and institutions and the enactment of those designed to replace them occupied the next eighteen months until on December 30, 1836 the process of change to the new system culminated in the publication of a new constitution, the so-called Constitutión de las Siete Leyes. This fundamental change in the political structure of the nation was not achieved without considerable dissent and the protracted transitional period permitted many groups who opposed the new order of things to air their views and in some cases, notably in Zacatecas and Texas, to attempt military resistance. The supporters of centralism found themselves, therefore, obliged to make and justify their case for change and to convince themselves as well as their opponents that their proposals represented the popular will. It is with this centralist case for change, or manifesto, that this article is primarily concerned.

In the twilight years of the eighteenth century, Spanish authorities of church and state resolved that the original Franciscan missions of Texas had achieved the goal of their early foundation, namely conversion of indigenous cultures to an Hispano-European lifestyle. Cognizant that the mission as a frontier agency had gained souls for the Catholic faith and citizens for the empire, Hispanic officials initiated secularization of the Texas establishments with the longest tenure, beginning with the missions along the upper San Antonio River. Less than a generation later, in the transition from Spanish dominion to Mexican rule in the nineteenth century, the Franciscan institutions, woefully in a condition of material neglect, engendered widespread secular avarice as numerous applicants with political contact in municipal government energetically competed to obtain land grants among the former mission temporalities.

In recent years, most historians have abandoned the idea that the revolutions that shook the Atlantic world between 1776 and 1848 were the work of a single social class. A number of studies on the social composition of the groups that ignited and propelled the different revolutionary processes demonstrate the diversity of conditions and social backgrounds of the revolutionaries. However, this revisionism is posing new questions as to why these contingencies in Europe and the Americas decided to mobilize, to construct new liberal national states, and how they carried it out.

Spain is a good sample case for this historiographical inquiry. At present, few historians accept the idea that the series of upheavals that brought about a new liberal state during the 19th century resulted from the exclusive pressure of a national bourgeoisie. Recent scholarship has revisited the classic bourgeois revolution paradigm by presenting liberalism as an ideology that captivated the imagination of Spaniards of a variety of social ranks, with special impact among urban middle and popular groups. But if Spanish scholars are providing better explanations regarding who embraced liberal ideas and facilitated their spread, the answers for the “why” and “how” this process occurred are, in my opinion, less convincing.

One day, a young romance writer who has lost his place to urban expansion in Buenos Aires overhears this intimate conversation coming from another bedroom in an all-women's residence hall. An “invisible houseguest” in Madame Bazan's pensionado for middle-class women of all ages, Mauricio Ridel works on finishing a happy ending for his latest serialized novel. During the writing process, however, he finds himself distracted by the sounds and rhythms of the house, his focus carried away to the conversations in the house on fashion, family life and female emancipation. Careful not to indicate his presence in any way (for he has agreed to respect the privacy of the women who live there), Ridel listens in to the conversations between female residents from the comfort of his assigned room. Believing themselves removed from male listeners, the female characters of Juana Manuela Gorriti's Oasis en la vida (1888) openly discuss their concerns and desires in the security of enclosed spaces. The dialogic sequence that begins this essay demonstrates the relief that a group of unnamed women experience when removing their uncomfortable clothing. They complain about the weight and needless complexity of their fashions and even flesh out a conspiracy theory concerning a few of those crazy designers. As the women contemplate the changes that tomorrow's fashions will inevitably bring, their soft, sweet voices appear punctuated by the incongruous thud of tossed garments.

It is generally recognized that the grave military reverses of 1762 impelled Charles III “to place his American Empire on a competitive military footing.” A crucial element in this process was the “expansion of the regular, or veteran garrisons. . . .” This is not to say, of course, that there were no military establishments in the Indies before the Seven Years War. Indeed, as Allan J. Kuethe points out:

Yet, how different was this “promising defense system” from that put into place after 1762?

The Renowned Tertiary of St. Francis, Christopher Columbus, aided by another tertiary, Queen Isabel of Castile, and the Franciscans of La Rábida, discovered the New World on October 12, 1492. It is not established whether or not on his first journey he was accompanied by a priest, although there are several statements to this effect; but it is now historically certain, with the investigations of Father Angel Ortega, O.F.M., that on his second voyage (1493) the Admiral was accompanied by the Franciscans, Fray Rodrigo Pérez, Fray Juan Bermejo and Fray Juan Tisín, and, quite probably, Fray Juan Pérez also (the Guardian of La Rábida, who was the first to recognize and patronize his genius), as well as Fray Antonio de Marchena, cosmographer, Provincial and his counsellor at the Court. Of the latter the Admiral later wrote to the Catholic Kings: “To him Your Majesties owe the possession of the Indies.” These were the auspicious beginnings of the Seraphic Order in the New World.

This article analyzes the revolutionary diplomacy of the Sandinista National Liberation Front (FSLN) through the prism of Nicaraguan and Western European relations during the final decade of the Cold War. It contends that —despite the FSLN's ideological affiliation with Third World national liberation movements, Cuba, and the socialist bloc—the campaign to influence Western European foreign policies was central to the Sandinista government's international strategy. By pushing Western European governments to play a prominent role in Central America's violent Cold War conflicts, the Sandinistas sought to undermine US power in the isthmus and alter the inter-American dynamics that shaped their region's history up to the late 1970s. Furthermore, by building financial ties with Western European countries, the FSLN could avoid complete financial dependency on the Soviet bloc and strengthen Nicaragua's image as a nonaligned state. The Sandinistas’ campaign to challenge US hegemony in Central America through a pragmatic outreach to Western Europe was largely successful, but it came at the cost of implementing domestic reforms that ran counter to their own ambitions. Ultimately, this prompted the FSLN to hold elections in 1990, which resulted in their removal from power.

During the 1930s Argentina's two railroad unions were the dominant labor organizations in the country. Their members considered themselves the elite of the working class. Through collective contracts and the efforts of the unions, the workers had gained favorable conditions for themselves, so that they were in many ways an elite, despite the harsh reality that the industry in which they worked was in decay.

Why were they able to do this? Not because they all possessed special skills. Groups of skilled workers have often been able to secure for themselves a strong position, as have the engineers and firemen who make up La Fraternidad. In countries in which the position of labor unions is not protected by law the ability of widely differentiated groups to organize successfully is unusual. Therefore, this paper will concentrate on the members of the Unión Ferroviaria. Membership in the Unión Ferroviaria was extended all along the far-flung railroad network and ranged from craftsmen in the repair shops to poorly paid and unskilled crews that maintained the tracks.

As a Part of the Centennial celebration of the death of José de San Martín, the year 1950 was designated by the Congress of Argentina as the “Year of San Martin.” Article 2 of Law 13,661 reads as follows: “From the first day of January until the thirty-first of December of the year 1950, all official documents of national, provincial and municipal authorities; the titles and diplomas granted by institutions of learning of all ranks and jurisdictions, be they of the State or incorporated; diplomatic dispatches and the notations and colophons of books, periodicals, dailies, reviews and every other class of publications whether they be official or private, national or foreign, shall be preceded by the denomination of ‘Year of the Liberator General San Martin’ to indicate the year 1950.”

José Francisco de San Martín is best known as the military genius on whose successes was founded the political independence of Argentina, Chile and Peru. In writing the account of his life, biographers have used such titles as “Captain of the Andes” and “Saint of the Sword.” Born of Spanish parents on the Argentinian frontier at Yapeyu, February 25, 1778, he accompanied them to Spain at the age of seven and was educated for a military career. Joining the Spanish army, he fought in Africa and defended the mother country against Republican France, England, Portugal and Napoleon Bonaparte.

Scholars are in substantial agreement that Latin American constitutionalism leaves much to be desired.

First, there is the wide gap between constitutional formulations and actual political practice. No one would contend that any constitution, Latin American or otherwise, corresponds exactly to reality. There are provisions in the United States Constitution which are no better observed than are those of the Latin American documents. Even so, there can be little doubt that the gulf between theory and reality is far wider in much of Latin America than it is in many other parts of the world. Though many provisions of other constitutions do not correspond to actual political practice, Latin American stipulations on significant principles of government are often so much at variance with reality as to be totally misleading for the description of their political systems. Professor Martin C. Needler puts it quite bluntly:

This essay deals with the lore of the military profession in Latin America in two ways. First, it presents a general introduction to militarylore, its applications to the study of military-civilian relations and its limitations as a research tool. Second, it presents an application (with obvious limitations) of concepts discussed in part I to a case study, part II: the lore of the Chilean Army officer class in the twentieth century. I am convinced that militarylore as defined and discussed herein is an especially fertile field for research in the study of the interaction between the armed forces and state, nation and society.

Terminology used in the following pages is for the most part selfexplanatory and free from neologisms, jargon and “sociologese.” There are, though, some terms which merit clarification, not because of their vagueness, but so that they not be confused with similar terms. There is, I believe, a decreasing tendency to generalize about military-civilian relations; clarity is important.

The New Kingdom of Granada, now Colombia, was discovered and settled by three unrelated expeditions organized for different purposes. Two of them were led by Spaniards and one by a German. The first was placed under the leadership of Gonzalo Jiménez de Quesada by the governor of Santa Marta, and ordered to go south in search of a passage to Peru. Another was led from the south and out of Peru by Sebastián de Benalcázar in search of one Dorado or golden man, who was supposed to reign in the Indian area of Cundirumarca, while the third was organized by Nikolaus Federmann in the province of Venezuela, with the aim of reaching the Xerira land of riches, the existence of which was known from the Indians encountered in early explorations. He was to proceed under the auspices of the German House of Welser, concessionary at the time of the exploration and exploitation of the province of Venezuela.