Pancho Villa is an intriguing figure of the Mexican Revolution. His popular movement dominated northern Mexico from 1913 to 1915, greatly influencing the revolution's course and the character of modern Mexican politics. As a revolutionary, Villa remains immortalised as a bold and charismatic military leader who rose from poverty to attack the wealthy and powerful while championing peasants' and workers' rights. He also stands as a prominent symbol of national pride, a leader who fought against foreign domination and dared to attack the United States directly. But how ‘revolutionary’ were Villa and the Villista movement? What did they actually accomplish? If Francisco Madero stands for political rights and democracy, Emiliano Zapata for land reform, and Venustiano Carranza for nationalism and the 1917 Constitution, whatdoes Villa represent?

The issue of sovereignty has historically figured prominently in Latin American political discourse. From Simón Bolívar to Benito Juárez in the nineteenth century, to Juan Domingo Perón and Salvador Allende in the twentieth, to Fidel Castro and Hugo Chávez today, sovereignty and its corollary, the non-intervention principle, have been prominent among the region's watchwords. In the late 1950s a Mexican diplomat declared that ‘intransigent non-intervention’ was the ‘cornerstone of the Inter-American system’. Sometimes imbued with racialist elements, as in José E. Rodó's claim that Latin America had ‘an inheritance of race, a great ethnic tradition to maintain’, or in the recent claim by a Venezuelan general that the Latin American defence of sovereignty is ‘part of the legacy which our aboriginal ancestors have passed on to us through chromosomes’, the discourse on sovereignty and non-intervention has become a Latin American trademark.

This article contributes to migration and livelihood scholarship by reflecting on global and political dimensions of livelihoods and experiences of illegalisation in Central America. Based on multi-sited ethnographic research with Nicaraguan families and their migrant family members in Costa Rica, the article adopts a translocal livelihood perspective and uses the notion of everyday politics to explore migrants’ mobility practices and nuance the role and reach of illegalisation in relatively accessible South–South migration. In conclusion, the article reinvigorates the notion of ‘everyday politics of mobility’ to incorporate the multi-sitedness, multi-dimensionality and multi-directionality of translocalising livelihoods, offering a lens for future comparison of illegalisation within and beyond the so-called Global South.

Why do new parties split? Scholars of new party schisms shy away from leadership-centred explanations for fear of excessive voluntarism and thus fail to conceptualise differences between leaders systematically. This article challenges that trend, arguing that externally appealing, internally dominant leaders generate cohesion in new parties. It analyses why some externally appealing leaders are internally dominant, while others are not, and argues that this variation can make the difference between schism and survival. The article supports its argument through a representative case study: the fatal (and consequential) schism of Peru's United Left coalition in the late 1980s.

Through shedding light on traditional Pentecostalism in Brazil this article reveals how middle-class people in São Paulo, Brazil, manage disappointment relating to current socio-economic conditions. Ethnographic research on Brazil's oldest Pentecostal church, which preserves an anachronistic style of practice, shows how people embrace a marginal identity and thereby critique social conditions in the country. In stark contrast to newer forms of Pentecostalism, people featured in this paper respond to an ‘anti-prosperity gospel’, in which failures and setbacks are construed as signs of spiritual purity and development. In a country where a ‘new middle class’ is supposedly finding prosperity, this study shows a religiously-oriented way in which people confront the disappointing gap between the promises of neoliberalism and the realities of jobless growth.

It is axiomatic, but certainly deserving of periodic repetition, that the long-term configuration of political, social and economic institutions in Iberian America has been determined both by the apparatus, operation and rationale of the metropolitan state, as well as by the premises and patterns of colonization. Equally apparent is the premise that the politico-administrative crisis associated with the achievement of independence in early nineteenth-century Latin America must be studied in the light of this ‘set’ of New World institutions, and particularly in relation to what Richard Morse calls the Spanish patrimonial state.