Perceptions of provision for health care in colonial Spanish America are invariably influenced by commonplaces familiar from the comparative history of pre-modern medicine. There is a danger that the reproduction of facile a priori judgements–such as lack of adequate provision, institutional underfunding, deficient nutrition, insanitary conditions, concomitant high mortality rates, and “Dickensian” institutions functioning as workhouses and death-traps for the poor–will distort our understanding of Spanish American health-care systems, such clichés being all too often simplistic, anachronistic, or culturally purblind. Moreover, the whole system, such as it was, may at first sight appear to have depended largely upon the desultory charity of some religious orders and a few pious individuals, with the royal exchequer occasionally rescuing financially-straitened institutions from the brink of bankruptcy and foreclosure. Like most such formulations, there is enough truth to this simplistic scenario for it to be a plausible enough portrait of health care not only in colonial Spanish America but in early modern Spain itself; indeed, of any pre-modern system of health provision. Some of these pejorative impressions–e.g., lack of adequate provision, underfunding–are hardy perennials that even today retain their currency in the wealthiest of welfare states, and are writ especially large in Third World countries. Then as now, such strictures, well-founded or not, are but part of the picture, and overlook considerable institutional achievements in making the best of available resources. Much of this criticism is of course susceptible to quantitative analysis, though statistical data on colonial health care are difficult to come by. As in so many spheres of colonial Spanish America, such figures as are available cluster in the second half of the eighteenth century, a product of the insatiable appetite of Bourbon ministers and bureaucrats for a quantitative dimension to policy-making.

Despite the voluminous body of historical literature devoted to the Mexican Revolution (1910-1920) and U.S.-Mexican diplomatic relations, few works address the subject of revolutionary propaganda. During this tumultuous era, however, factional leaders recognized the importance of justifying their movement, publicizing their activities, and cultivating favorable public opinion for their cause, particularly in the United States. In this regard, Venustiano Carranza was especially energetic. From the inception of his Constitutionalist revolution, Carranza and his adherents persistently attempted to exploit the press to generate support among Mexican expatriates, protect Mexican sovereignty, secure recognition from the administration of Woodrow Wilson, gain the acquiescence–if not the blessing–of key sectors of the North American public for his Constitutionalist program, enhance his personal image, and defend his movement against the criticism and intrigues of his enemies–both Mexican and North American.

Simón Bolívar, soon to become an icon of Latin American independence, wrote a celebrated document, dated from Kingston, his place of temporary exile, on September 6, 1815. Bolívar's document, later known as the Jamaica Letter, made prophesies for Latin America's future, appraised its contemporary political conditions, and justified the region's current rebellions against the Spanish crown. Chief among the justifications for rebellion was the exclusion of American-born Spaniards, or creoles, from administration, government, and politics. Wrote Bolívar:

Despite its vital role in Latin America's ongoing struggle for economic development, Latin-American scientific and technical education remains a neglected topic among historians. Authors also tend to view it in simplistic terms. While some have seen scientific and technical institutes as agents of Latin America's “dependency” on the North Atlantic world, others have seen them as vehicles of Progress, or have stressed the way in which graduates (scientists and technical professionals) have acted as “anti-dependency guerillas.” Evidence from Colombia, however, confounds any simple view. The founding of the country's first program for geological and petroleum engineers at the National School of Mines in Medellín reflected nationalistic desires to increase Colombian control over the oil industry and subsoil resources in general. Yet, Colombia's national energy policies have not led to state control of the industry as in the case of other major oil-producing countries, i.e., Mexico. What explains this apparent gap between desires and deeds? The following essay seeks an answer by tracing the origins of the geological and petroleum engineering program as well as the ideas and activities of graduates who have been directly involved in developing their country's oil and other resources. Above all, it highlights Colombians' pragmatic approach to development concerns.