Pierre Elliot Trudeau became leader of Canada's Liberal Party and Prime Minister of Canada in April 1968. Almost immediately he promised an effort to take new directions in Canada's external relations. One of the regions he focused attention on was Latin America (Dobell, 1972: 115).

That Trudeau was interested in Latin America appears natural for an intellectual raised in Quebec. There has long been a certain sympathy with the concept of latinité. French-Canadian intellectuals often believed that they had much in common with Latin Americans, because of their religions or cultural heritage, and felt a pull from that region even if they had never visited it. Trudeau had been editor of a leading Quebec journal, Cité Libre, and that journal occasionally had editorial comment on events in Latin America. Indeed, Trudeau established his position on political involvement in the Inter-American system in that journal and he has not wavered from that position since then (Octobre 1964; and his recent statement in International Canada, 1976).

The Aztecs discovered petroleum in Mexico and used it before the arrival of the Spanish in 1519. They burned it in tribute to their gods, caulked their canoes with it, smeared it on their bodies as a medicine, and utilized it as a dye and a glue. Over three centuries elapsed before an effort was made to turn black gold into cash. Ten years after Edwin L. Drake drilled his famous well near Titusville, Pennsylvania, in 1859, a group of Mexicans unsuccessfully attempted to produce oil on the “Furbero” hacienda near Papantla in Vera Cruz state. It was not until May 1901 that Edward L. Doheny, a wily product of the rough-and-tumble American oil industry in which he had amassed a fortune, struck oil in Ébano, a jungle region of San Luis Potosí. Another pioneer in the development of Mexico's petroleum industry was Weeman Pearson, later Lord Cowdray, a Yorkshire entrepreneur who formed the fabulously profitable Mexican Eagle (Aguila) Company after discovering the “Golden Lane” fields in 1908 (Bermúdez, 1963; Sampson, 1975: 83-85; Grayson, 1978a).

The Puebla meeting of the Latin American bishops in early 1979 capped a decade of far-reaching and surprising change in the Catholic Church. A new, local-level unit—the “ecclesial base community” or CEB—has given Catholicism a vitality in society it has not known for centuries. At the same time, the Church has achieved an unprecedented integration as an institution nationally and regionally, in Latin America as a whole. It has found itself, through an unexpected historical dynamic, increasingly committed to the cause of the poor in deed as well as word, And it has been thrust into political confrontations with state authority throughout the region with an intensity and scope unmatched since the nineteenth century.

During the Cuban revolution's first decade, Fidel Castro's charismatic authority and predominant position eclipsed the significance of the new institutions created to replace the prerevolutionary political order. The “institutionalization” under way in Cuba since 1970, however, has strengthened and formalized the political structure to the extent that the island's institutions can no longer be regarded as peripheral to the dynamics of Cuban politics. This is particularly true of the Communist party of Cuba, which has emerged from the 1970s as the central political institution. The way in which the party has developed not only highlights some of the problems inherent in the process of creating a new political order, but is also essential for understanding contemporary Cuban politics.

Perón and the Peronista party and movement have been interesting from at least two crucially important perspectives: first, Perón's ability to keep Argentina hostage for three decades in his roles as twice-elected “lider,” as exiled “caudillo,” and president once more (I say “hostage” in the sense that he remained the pivotal political force in all the crucial coalition bargains struck among the major power contenders since 1943); second, his ability to forge an intellectual and political clientele that spanned several generations and encompassed various, but unique, ideological views. Perón had the leadership capability not only of touching many people but also of striking a common political resonance among vastly differing sets of values.

It is difficult to write about a martyr. One has to contend with the keepers of the flame, who have strong personal and political reasons for preserving the hero's image. Moreover, myths usually contain elements of truth. Although Leonardo Ruiz Pineda is not known as widely as Zapata, Sandino, Che, or Camilo Torres, there are unmistakable efforts on the part of Venezuela's democratic leaders to include him in the pantheon of Latin America's recent revolutionary heroes.

Religion and politics have depended on and influenced one another since the origins of what we know as Latin America. Their relation is both mutual and multifaceted; mutual because religion and politics have evolved together over the years, taking material and symbolic support from one another, and multifaceted because it embraces interinstitutional conflict and accommodation (e.g., the “church-state” relations which dominated earlier scholarship) as well as more subtle and elusive exchanges whereby religious and political orders gave legitimacy and moral authority to one another. In this process, religious notions of hierarchy, authority, and obedience reflected and reinforced the pattern of existing social and political arrangements to such an extent that the two orders often seemed indistinguishable.

The relationship between ideas and political action represents a continuing, albeit frustrating, point of contention among political analysts. Referring to the literature on ideology, Robert Putnam reflects this sentiment by noting, “Few concepts in social analysis have inspired such a mass of commentary yet few have stimulated the production of so little cumulative knowledge about society and politics. The lack of cumulation is due, above all, to recurrent confusion of empirical with definitional issues and of both with normative concerns” (Putnam, 1971: 651). The proliferation of definitions, measurement techniques, and frameworks for analyzing the concept should not be surprising because “for the political scientist the term ideology points to a cluster concept, i.e., belongs to the concepts that bracket a variety of complex phenomena about which one tries to generalize” (Sartori, 1969: 398).

A series of recently declassified documents in the National Archives provide striking evidence of the shift of United States military strategic thinking away from the nineteenth and early twentieth century unilateral interventionist approaches to the bilateral approaches taken in World War II under the multilateral framework of the Good Neighbor Policy.

It is also significant to note that, despite the multilateral thrust of this Good Neighbor Policy promulgated by President Roosevelt and the U.S. State Department, the U.S. Military Departments— War and Navy—made no provisions for multilateral strategic plans in World War II.

But even as U.S. military planners prepared for bilateral cooperation with Latin American allies in the war, they continued to draft and update unilateral plans for intervention and invasion of key Latin American countries if cooperative approaches should fail.

Ten years ago the Latin American Catholic Bishops held their Second General Conference in Medellín, Colombia. The conference had a great influence not only within the Catholic Church, but also on the formation of socioeconomic and political issues in Latin American countries. At the time of this writing, we are in the midst of preparations for the Third General Conference taking place in Puebla, Mexico, in October 1978. Therefore, this seems a good opportunity to reflect on the general processes of change in the Church leading to Puebla and their implications for the future.

The fall of Salvador Allende's government on September 11, 1973, has given rise to debates over many issues, such as the role of the United States in bringing about the conditions that led to a military coup, the feasibility of a peaceful road toward socialism, and the existence or nonexistence of a democratic and national bourgeoisie in Chile (Valenzuela and Valenzuela, 1975). One issue remains relatively unexplored, however, namely, how much was the Soviet Union willing to aid the Popular Unity (UP) government in its quest for autonomy from the United States? This quest for autonomy was a paramount foreign policy goal because the basic program of Allende's coalition government, approved by the Communist, Socialist, Radical, Social Democratic, Movement for Unitary Popular Action, and Independent Popular Action parties, stated that the basic cause of Chile's poverty and inflation was their intimate economic ties with the United States. The resulting dependence brought about the underdevelopment of Chile and prevented the Chilean bourgeoisie from being truly nationalistic. These dependent ties with the United States would have to be broken for Chile to be capable of autonomous development.

In the early morning hours of July 27, 1974, the military government of Peru employed riot police to seize control of the country's principal daily newspapers. The government announced that the newspapers were being transferred to independent organizations representative of broad sectors of Peruvian society. Peru's “Revolutionary Government of the Armed Forces,” which came to power in 1968, had already surprised students of the Latin American military with a series of radical measures which included an extensive land reform, the expropriation of a number of foreign companies, reorganization of the financial sector, and the creation of a system of worker control for industry. Now President Juan Velasco Alvarado presented the press takeover as an integral part of a fundamental reordering of the existing society along progressive nationalist lines.

In 1973 Alfred Stepan published an article with the descriptive title “The New Professionalism of Internal Warfare and Military Role Expansion.” In this article, he used the cases of Brazil and Peru to discuss “how the ideology of new professionalism arose and how it contributed to the expansion of the military's role in politics.” He proposed to do this by identifying “some of the institutional and political variables that are peculiar to Brazil and that help account for some of the special characteristics of the present military regime” (1973). He then set out the paradigms of the “old professionalism” as formulated in the carefully constructed analysis of Samuel P. Huntington (1957) and compared these to the stated missions and observed activities of the Brazilian army in the 1960s. This comparison led him to conclude that because the army's missions and activities were clearly different from those in the Huntington model they must flow from a different definition of the military profession rather than merely being lapses from the “old professionalism” (Stepan, 1973: 48).

In the latter half of the 1920s, a half dozen North American, British, and Canadian engineers and geologists individually began secretive explorations for oil, minerals, and likely locations for rubber plantations in the Brazilian Amazon jungle. Their goal: to interest the Ford, Firestone, and Goodyear companies in land that would supply the raw materials for their product—tires. As these land speculators negotiated with the Amazonian state governments for concessions, each thought he had claimed the richest territory with virtually unlimited exploitation privileges. Several scrambled for concessions, and by July of 1927 one individual obtained 2.5 million acres on the Tapajós river in the Amazonian state of Pará. He secretively planted half a million rubber seedlings in the forest (an indication of the vastness, sparse population, and poor communications in the Amazon at that date) and left behind an armed guard to protect the land against incursions by other speculators (Winter, 1927). In a subsequent contract with Pará, Henry Ford then acquired this land to grow rubber.

After decades of neglect, interest in the political significance of Latin American Catholicism increased sharply in the late 1960s when it began to appear that the Church might have unimagined potential for promoting social change, particularly in a continent plagued by social upheaval and political instability (Drekonja, 1971: 59-65). In both word and deed, the postconciliar Church manifested a changing social orientation which entailed open involvement in political issues on behalf of the poor. In fact, by August 1968 and the convening of the Council of Latin American Bishops (CELAM) in Medellín, Colombia, the Church seemed to be changing its social and political attitudes so profoundly that reports of a revolutionary Church began to accompany discussions of the political situation in Latin America. Since Medellín, an important literature has evolved from efforts to understand this change in Latin American Catholicism.

In geographic studies of modernization, attention has tended to focus on the processes of urbanization and the characteristics of urban areas rather than on rural areas. The latter have been included in macro-scale studies such as those of Gould and Soja in Africa investigating the spatial diffusion of modernization. In their studies of change in the Pacific, Brookfield (1973) and his associates also worked in rural communities, concentrating on the micro-scale. In research dealing with change in rural Latin America, emphasis has been on colonization studies and ruralurban migration, (Parsons, 1973; Preston, 1974; Stouse, 1971) but study of the effects of urbanization on change within a traditional rural areas has been neglected. Further, there have been few attempts in research on modernization to integrate macro and micro studies or to work at an intermediate scale.

In a book which has circulated rather widely in Latin America (Lieuwen, 1960), it was stated that, with the passage of time, Latin American military men would intervene less and less in politics. This was not an altogether mistaken belief, considering that in 1961 Paraguay was a “military island” in a sea of Latin American civilian governments. Today the situation has radically changed in many ways. On the one hand, more than half the population of Latin America lives under military regimes; on the other, military domination has a different cast: it is no longer a caudillo who takes over, but the armed forces, which have institutionalized their access to the government. Linked to the foregoing is the emergence of an authoritarian ideological platform—the military call it a doctrine of national security—which provides the armed forces with the necessary rationale for their political activities.

In a recent reinterpretation of political change in Peru between independence and World War I, Berg and Weaver (1978) suggest that the rise of guano export beginning in the 1840s led to important changes in socioeconomic relations within the country. In consequence, a centralized and powerful state emerged which asserted its authority over the formerly dominant provincial elites. On this point, Berg and Weaver's analysis is not inconsistent with existing literature on the period (Basadre, 1963; Pike, 1967; Bonilla, 1974). But their argument that by retaining control over guano export the state acquired the financial resources with which to establish its independence from newly emerging urban elites does not seem completely valid.