James Bryce’s Political Analysis of Mexico’s Porfirian Regime

Journeys ◽  
2021 ◽  
Vol 22 (1) ◽  
pp. 70-88
Author(s):  
Itzel Toledo García

This article aims to explore British traveler James Bryce’s political analysis of the Porfirian regime. In October 1901, Bryce visited Mexico and wrote letters to his family portraying his stay. Afterward, based upon his travel account, he spoke about the country in two conferences, one time in Oxford (1902) and another in Aberdeen (1903). Later on, he wrote about Mexico in his book South America: Observations and Impressions (1912), which was the result of his travels through Latin America in 1901 and 1910. We shall explore Bryce’s position toward the Porfirian regime, from disinterest in Porfirio Díaz’s despotism and the political elite in 1901 to admiration of its achievement of peace and progress in 1911 once the Mexican Revolution had commenced.

2020 ◽  
Vol 19 (1) ◽  
pp. 101-120
Author(s):  
Yousef M. Aljamal ◽  
Philipp O. Amour

There are some 700,000 Latin Americans of Palestinian origin, living in fourteen countries of South America. In particular, Palestinian diaspora communities have a considerable presence in Chile, Honduras, and El Salvador. Many members of these communities belong to the professional middle classes, a situation which enables them to play a prominent role in the political and economic life of their countries. The article explores the evolving attitudes of Latin American Palestinians towards the issue of Palestinian statehood. It shows the growing involvement of these communities in Palestinian affairs and their contribution in recent years towards the wide recognition of Palestinian rights — including the right to self-determination and statehood — in Latin America. But the political views of members of these communities also differ considerably about the form and substance of a Palestinian statehood and on the issue of a two-states versus one-state solution.


2010 ◽  
Vol 6 (1) ◽  
Author(s):  
Francis Dupuis-Déri

An examination of the speeches of modern Canada’s “founding fathers” reveals that they were openly antidemocratic. How did a regime founded on anti-democratic ideas come to be positively identified with democracy? Drawing on similar studies of the United States and France, this analysis of the history of the term democracy in Canada shows that the country’s association with democracy was not due to constitutional or institutional changes that might have justified re-labelling the country’s political regime. Rather, it was the result of discursive strategies employed by the political elite to strengthen its ability to mobilize the masses during the World Wars.


Author(s):  
Albert O. Hirschman

This chapter examines the kind of cognitive style that hinders, or promotes, understanding. The topic is introduced with a critical look at two books that exemplify opposite styles—one a study of the Mexican revolution by Hirschman's young colleague at Harvard, John Womack, and the other a study of violence in Colombia by the political scientist James L. Payne. Hirschman has little sympathy for the latter and reserves some unflattering words for what he had seen as a disease in the social sciences—the search for models and paradigms that aim to prove theories rather than understand realities; among other things, the tendency had collapsed into old failurist nostrums Hirschman was combating in Latin America, and that were now infecting North American social science.


2014 ◽  
Vol 3 (2) ◽  
pp. 11-33
Author(s):  
Korstanje Maximiliano

Abstract Why do the United States reserve the right to be called “America” by conferring the “Americas” to the whole continent?, is that a clear sign of discrimination or supremacy or both? Ideologically, America refers to the United States of “America” excluding other regions such as Latin America, central or South America. This leads some scholars to explain convincingly that, beyond this subtle grammatical difference, the Anglo-ethnocentrism in the United States has been drawn to make their citizens believe they are unique, outstanding, and special. Basically, this belief allowed not only to fight against the political enemies in Europe or in any other geographical point, but also to control the incipient worker union leaderships. What merits further attention, anyway, is the sentiment of exemplarity instilled by the founding parents of this nation. Fear was historically a mechanism of control employed by US governments at different stages in several ways. Our intention is not only to review how the fear disciplined by the claims of work-force, but also explain why the sentiment of exemplarity and fear are inextricably intertwined.


2003 ◽  
Vol 63 (1) ◽  
pp. 267-268
Author(s):  
Sandra Kuntz Ficker

After a long decay, in the last decades of the nineteenth century the Mexican economy experienced a process of accelerated growth mainly associated with the export sector. As the latter developed and diversified, new opportunities for investment opened in agriculture, livestock rising, and mining. Starting in the 1890s, this process was also accompanied by an early phenomenon of import-substitution industrialization, which would continue to unfold until the Mexican Revolution broke out in 1910. Although industrial growth was “limited in scope and fraught with inefficiencies” (p. 187), it appears as an uncommon experience in an era dominated by export-led growth in Latin America and as one that has attracted less attention than it deserves in the historiography on Mexico. This is the subject of Edward Beatty's work.


Author(s):  
Deborah Caplow

The Stridentist Movement [Movimiento Estridentista], founded by poet Manuel Maples Arce (1898–1981), was the only avant-garde Mexican literary and artistic group in the 1920s. The movement was centered in Mexico City from 1921–1925 and in Jalapa, Veracruz from 1925 until it disbanded in 1927. Stridentist writers wrote poetry characterized by formal and linguistic experimentation, which were illustrated by Stridentist artists. In this way they developed a style specific to the movement. They produced illustrated books, magazines, pamphlets and manifestos, in which text and image work together in a symbiotic fashion that shaped the political and artistic character of the movement. Like the Futurists, their aesthetic embraced such symbols of modernity as skyscrapers, aeroplanes, telephones, railroads and electric wires. Their influences were Cubism, Spanish Ultraismo, German Expressionism, Futurism, Dadaism and Constructivism. In an unusual combination of artistic internationalism and political nationalism, the Stridentists saw themselves as revolutionary, both artistically and politically, and their works included themes of the Mexican Revolution and its aftermath. Unique in Latin America at this time, the sophisticated appearance of the group, the cubo-futurist fragmentation and the dynamism that characterized the portraits, epitomize the inventiveness of the Stridentist vision.


2020 ◽  
Vol 2 (4) ◽  
pp. 55-60
Author(s):  
Barbara E. Mundy

This collection of essays reconsiders a seminal 1961 article by George Kubler, the most important art historian of Latin America of the English-speaking world at the time of its writing. Often greeted with indifference or hostility, Kubler’s central claim of extinction is still a highly contested one. The essays in this section deal with Kubler’s reception in Mexico, the political stakes of his claim in relation to indigeneity, as well as the utility of Kubler’s categories and objects of “extinction” beyond their original framing paradigm.


2019 ◽  
Vol 74 (3) ◽  
pp. 305-331
Author(s):  
John Owen Havard

John Owen Havard, “‘What Freedom?’: Frankenstein, Anti-Occidentalism, and English Liberty” (pp. 305–331) “If he were vanquished,” Victor Frankenstein states of his monstrous creation in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818), “I should be a free man.” But he goes on: “Alas! what freedom? such as the peasant enjoys when his family have been massacred before his eyes, his cottage burnt, his lands laid waste, and he is turned adrift, homeless, pennyless, and alone, but free.” Victor’s circumstances approximate the deracinated subject of an emergent economic liberalism, while looking to other destitute and shipwrecked heroes. Yet the ironic “freedom” described here carries an added charge, which Victor underscores when he concludes this account of his ravaged condition: “Such would be my liberty.” This essay revisits the geographic plotting of Frankenstein: the digression to the East in the nested “harem” episode, the voyage to England, the neglected episode of Victor’s imprisonment in Ireland, and the creature’s desire to live in South America. Locating Victor’s concluding appeal to his “free” condition within the novel’s expansive geography amplifies the political stakes of his downfall, calling attention to not only his own suffering but the wider trail of destruction left in his wake. Where existing critical accounts have emphasized the French Revolution and its violent aftermath, this obscures the novel’s pointed critique of a deep and tangled history of English liberty and its destructive legacies. Reexamining the novel’s geography in tandem with its use of form similarly allows us to rethink the overarching narrative design of Frankenstein, in ways that disrupt, if not more radically dislocate, existing rigid ways of thinking about the novel.


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