The relative prosperity which Argentina enjoyed at the beginning of the century made it a candidate to be a major economic power. Despite its abundant natural resources and skilled manpower, Argentina has consistently failed to live up to its potential. Periods of growth have either been too sporadic or political upheavals too frequent for coherent economic policies to be effective. In recent decades the Argentine economy has been characterised by a deterioration in current account,1 exchange rate,2 gross domestic product (GDP) growth,3 investment,4 and has seen inflation become an endemic phenomenon.5 These factors have exacerbated the economy's inability to tackle its mounting foreign debt.

Mexican agrarian philosophy has been characterised by remarkable consistency over the 70 years since the Revolution despite drastic changes in the overall economic context. The symbols of Revolutionary reform persist untarnished – ‘land and liberty’, Zapata and the ejido, an unique form of peasant land tenure. ‘El agro’ and agrarian policy remain a highly sensitive area shrouded in the mystique of past social struggles, so that the legacy of previous development decisions tightly constrains present-day options.

Though Argentina has long been synonymous with trackless pampas and teeming livestock herds, this common image requires some qualification. Before the late nineteenth century, when refrigerated transport made possible a large international market for Argentine beef, cattle played a less important role in the economy of the Río de la Plata than is usually assumed. Except for Buenos Aires province, where stockraising was predominant even in the colonial period, ranchers often had to struggle hard and insistently to find their niche in the overall commerce of the region. Grazing conditions were excellent in many areas of the Río de la Plata, but because the port of Buenos Aires always enjoyed a near-exclusive control over external trade, the porteños effectively blunted the development of any stockraising that threatened to compete with their own exports. In the northeastern provinces, this resulted in a cattle industry marked by technological backwardness and erratic growth. The chaotic politics of the post-independence era reinforced these conditions, though reform-minded ranchers and government officials consistently tried to improve provincial standards of stockraising.

The central paradox of Mexican liberalism was that ‘the proponents of a massive transformation of property relations refused to sanction a central executive endowed with sufficient power either to implement these aims or to resist the reaction they inevitably provoked. The liberals resolutely refused to will the appropriate means to achieve their desired ends’.1 Contemporary statesmen denounced the constitution of 1857 as impracticable and in 1861 Benito Juárez complained: ‘Under these conditions it is impossible to govern: no-one obeys me and I am not able to oblige anyone to obey’.2 In a subsequent study of this period, Emilio Rabasa pointed out that in practice Juárez governed Mexico in despite of the constitution, obtaining from Congress the grant of ‘extraordinary faculties’ which effectively allowed him to rule as dictator. The recent work of Richard N. Sinkin and Laurens Ballard Perry has confirmed the accuracy of Rabasa's diagnosis.3 During the restored republic, 1867–72, Juárez skilfully deployed the prestige and loyal following he had won by his unyielding resistance to the French Intervention to create a presidential autocracy. Public revenues were used to recruit and maintain a political machine which succeeded in imposing official candidates as congressional deputies, jefes políticos, and even state governors. All attempts to challenge the regime by armed revolt were firmly crushed by the regular army. At the same time, political opposition still continued to find public and often violent expression in the press.

Attempts to find social explanations for Peruvian economic backwardness have focused on the role of the elite's economic leadership between 1884 and 1930. Some of these studies consider the leading social class as an obstacle to economic growth. According to these interpretations the elite had, first of all, traditional ‘aristocratic’ or irrational economic behaviour.1 Secondly, the native elite's collaboration with international capital permitted foreign penetration adverse to national interests.2 Thirdly, in the 1884–1930 period, which was dominated by the export recovery after the War of the Pacific, an over-specialisation in export interests limited the elite's economic diversification, industrial capacity and financial decisions.3

Anastasio Bustamante is one of the forgotten men of early nineteenth-century Mexican history. Like many of his contemporaries during the so-called age of Santa Anna – José Maria Tornel, Gabriel Valencia, Juan Nepomuceno Almonte, Mariano Paredes y Arrillaga, to name only a few – he has attracted scant attention of biographers and little serious study has been made of his long and eventful career. Yet Bustamante was in full control of the presidency, as president or vice-president, for a longer period in total than any president before Porfirio Díaz and he presided over crucial stages in the nation's development from colony to sovereign republic. By ideological conviction or political expediency – it is still not clear which – he came to be the figurehead of the conservative, traditionalist forces in Mexican society which struggled to preserve not only their economic control but also their religious, social and moral values against what they considered to be the destructive onslaught of increasingly fashionable and radical liberal ideas. Born in 1780 at Jiquilpan (Michoacán), son of Spanish parents, trained as a doctor, Bustamante fought for the royalist cause in the war of independence until he joined with Iturbide in the plan of Iguala (1821). Various important political posts followed and he first rose to supreme power in 1829 when, as vice-president, he successfully led a rebellion against president Vicente Guerrero.

In the second half of the 1930s, confidential information from and concerning Latin America reaching Washington promoted the suspicion, and ultimately the conviction, that the security of much of Latin America, and by extension that of the United States, was imperiled by the Axis powers. Officials in Washington were convinced that the Axis menace to the Western Hemisphere was not in the form of a direct military threat, but rather through the use of propaganda and subversion. Such concern – based in part on fascism's appeal to Latin America's elites – was aroused particularly by the efforts of the Axis powers to organise their own national communities in Latin America into instruments of their foreign policy and by the simultaneous mounting of a propaganda campaign intended to win over public opinion in the Americas and to weaken the support for democracy.1

The Depression in tin began in 1929 as the price fell towards £200 per ton. By the beginning of 1931 a cartel was organised which was able to reduce production to the point where by 1934 real prices and incomes had been restored to levels comparable with those enjoyed during the boom of the mid-1920s. The tin cartel has received extensive attention, which has tended to be rather critical and has focused on the impact on the largest producer, Malaya.1 Although Bolivia was the major beneficiary of cartelisation, there has been comparatively little analysis of her relationship with the cartel.2

With the downfall of the Somoza regime and coming to power of the Frente Sandinista de Liberación Nacional (FSLN) in July 1979, Israeli– Nicaraguan relations declined, to be eventually cut off three years later. An important contributing factor to the deterioration and breach of relations was Israel's involvement with Anastasio (Tachito) Somoza Debayle, in particular the military assistance which his faltering regime received from the Likud government until shortly before the end. By no means Tachito's sole armourer,1 the salience of Israel's role was, nonetheless, noted by many, including Somoza Debayle himself.2 This, however, was justified by Israeli prime minister Menachem Begin as the sole honourable course of action in view of earlier favours to the Zionist cause, going back to the pre-state period, by Tachito's father, Anastasio (Tacho) Somoza García.

Argentina's labour leaders make up one of the most powerful social groups in the nation's society. Their power is based on the unions' economic resources as well as on their capacity to mobilise rank-and-file workers. However, the group has developed a tendency towards bureaucratisation. On the one hand they are representative of their fellow-workers which is why they are continuously re-elected. At the same time, they have acquired technical and bureaucratic skills which ease their handling of the trade union structure. ‘As long as permanence at the head of the union becomes prolonged, the labour leader draws further away from the cultural and economic criteria of the workers who form the rank-and-file.’1 This tendency towards self-perpetuation in office maintains the acquired social status. In addition, the separation from the rank-and-file increases in order to have a relative autonomy and play the role of intermediary between the worker and the employer. In this sense, the corporativism and verticalism inherent in the Peronist doctrine, as a form of selecting leaders, increases the tendency towards bureaucratisation in the trade union leaders, marking a breach with the historical tendency of the Argentine labour movement previous to 1946–7.

One important cultural factor which has contributed to inhibiting regional cooperation and integration in Latin America lies in the intense territorial nationalism prevailing in several of the Spanish-speaking countries. This frequently underrated phenomenon is an outgrowth of the great number of territorial disputes still to be found in the region and the indoctrination of public opinion through the educational systems and the mass media that often accompanies them.1 At least the following disputes can be considered as having greatly affected the international relations of these countries in recent years:

Argentina vs. Chile. The core of the problem (the dispute over three tiny islands in the Beagle Channel) was solved with the Treaty of Peace and Friendship signed in 1984 and ratified in 1985, but it almost led to war in 1978 and was an excuse for intensive nationalistic indoctrination over several years. It generated arms races and military mobilisation, concomitantly frustrating a natural potential for economic complementarity and integration. The territorial disputes yet unsolved are very minor, but distrust will probably linger on for many years.

For the last fifty years Chilean rural unionism has been characterised by a structural weakness vis-à-vis the state, political parties and the vested landed interests. For instance, the formation of peasant unions remained illegal until 1967 and, after a short period of strength during the land reform, they could only barely survive the military takeover of 1973. So, in marked contrast to miners and industrial workers – who since the 1930s have built strong national organisations and achieved significant bargaining power within Chilean society – peasant unions have always had to rely on the support of urban social and political forces to exist.

The importance of the years of political and social upheaval immediately following the end of the Second World War and coinciding with the beginnings of the Cold War, that is to say, the period from 1944 or 1945 to 1948 or 1949, for the history of Europe (East and West), the Near and Middle East, Asia (Japan, China, South and East Asia), even Africa (certainly South Africa) in the second half of the twentieth century has long been generally recognised. In recent years historians of the United States, which had not, of course, been a theatre of war and which alone among the major belligerents emerged from the Second World War stronger and more prosperous, have begun to focus attention on the political, social and ideological conflict there in the postwar period – and the long term significance for the United States of the basis on which it was resolved. In contrast, except for Argentina, where Perón's rise to power has always attracted the interest of historians, the immediate postwar years in Latin America, which had been relatively untouched by, and had played a relatively minor role in, the Second World War, remain to a large extent neglected. It is our view that these years constituted a critical conjuncture in the political and social history of Latin America just as they did for much of the rest of the world. In a forthcoming collection of case studies, which we are currently editing, the main features of the immediate postwar period in Latin America, and especially the role played by labour and the Left, will be explored in some detail, country by country.1 In this article, somewhat speculative and intentionally polemical, we present the broad outlines of our thesis.