This chapter connects the burning and removal of the Praia do Pinto favela in 1969, the development of the Cidade Alta housing project on Rio’s north side, the development of the middle-class apartment complex Selva de Pedra on the former site of Praia do Pinto, and the preeminent soap operas of Globo Television in the late 1960s and early 1970s. The chapter shows how the Brazilian military dictatorship (1964-1985) carried out a process of state-sponsored gentrificaion through favela removal and subsidized development for the conservative middle class.

On June 27, 1973, Juan María Bordaberry, the democratically elected president of Uruguay, dissolved the general assembly and remained in office, sharing executive power with the military command. Uruguayans mention this date when asked when was the last coup d’état in their country. However, political and social actors have long disagreed over the exact meaning of this event and few would now reject that it was just one, albeit final and dramatic, step in a relatively long path toward authoritarianism. Things were different after that date in terms of state institutions as well as freedoms and rights for the citizenry, but many analysts have shown that most of these changes were in the making since at least 1968, when Jorge Pacheco Areco took power and governed under repressive measures of exception. A more recent body of literature has gone further back in time to show the importance of previous steps that aligned national politics with the polarized order of the Cold War. This chapter aims at offering a plausible narrative of what happened in the fifteen years before the date of the coup, combining basic historical facts with the changing interpretations that placed and displaced meaning and importance among them.

On March 11, 1973, after seven years of de facto government, Argentina celebrated its return to democracy in an electoral act that seemed to announce a new era. Although the alternation between the military and civilians was not unprecedented, two things led many to assume that coups were being left behind forever. First, after years of proscription, clean elections had led the Peronist movement to the government. Second, the new leader, after eighteen years of exile, was the founder of that movement, Juan Perón. “They’re leaving and never coming back!” – referring to the military – was the chant with which demonstrators celebrated the transfer of power and change of regime. Less than three years later, however, on March 24, 1976, a new military coup broke the constitutional order, with no resistance from either the armed forces or civil sectors. This chapter analyzes the main causes, internal and external, that enabled the military’s return to power. Based on the role played by the most relevant political and social actors, the chapter explains the conditions that made it possible for what was considered buried in 1973 to appear as the only way out in 1976, at least to numerous civil sectors.

Throughout the twentieth century, many Europeans agreed that individual freedom had to be defended against an oppressive state. Dissidents strove to do so at the risk of imprisonment and physical violence. Political radicals and neoliberals accused even democratic states of undermining the very possibility of living freely. But for others the relationship was far more equivocal. Social democrats promised to foster working-class people’s freedom by expanding the welfare state, thus rendering them independent of capitalism and the family. Even major dictatorships, out of an interest in mobilization or acquiescence, did not present themselves solely as collectivistic projects. Whether or not the power of the state promoted or stifled freedom thus remained a matter of controversy. This chapter explores three aspects of this relationship: how inmates of concentration and work camps in Stalin’s Russia, Hitler’s Germany, and Franco’s Spain were deprived of their freedom but desperately attempted to safeguard some vestiges of it; how the Third Reich, various Eastern Bloc regimes, and the late Francoist dictatorship tried to accommodate individualistic desires and demands within their repressive structures; and, finally, how the project of social democratic liberty took shape and was challenged from both the left and the right.

While most scholars of criminalized governance in Rio de Janeiro attribute its origins to the prison-based factions which formed during the military dictatorship (1964–85), this chapter argues that these arrangements emerged before, in the homes and on the streets and alleyways of the city’s favelas and housing projects. This chapter investigates these origins by focusing on the first embryonic gangs in Complexo da Maré in the 1970s. Combining archival research with oral histories of longtime residents, the chapter documents the emergence of Maré’s gangs after a variety of other non-state actors that had previously provided governance were increasingly marginalized during Brazil’s military dictatorship and as the abusive practices of police became more widespread. Maré’s incipient gang networks quickly began to compete over valuable drug-selling turf and, as the more successful ones consolidated territorial control, they expanded their organizations and governance activities. The chapter concludes with a description of the history of Rio’s prison-based factions and the marriage between these two organizational forms as the favela-based gangs integrated into these citywide networks.

Chapter 1 sets the scene for this book, providing the requisite background for the chapters that follow. It begins with a short overview of the military regime, focusing on repression and the gradual restoration of democratic freedoms, highlighting the role the latter played in facilitating the country’s burgeoning environmental movement. It then turns to the dictatorship’s plans for industrial growth and energy production. The chapter closes with an overview of the symbolism that surrounds big dams and an introduction to the influential generals and engineers responsible for orchestrating the dictatorship’s dam-building campaign. This chapter also lays the groundwork for the book’s first argument, that political pressures encouraged the military regime to build big dams quickly and with little regard for their social and environmental impacts.

Amid imperial expansion in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, white settlers were a tiny minority in most newer colonies, and in some cases, a non-white middle class arose that was educated in the colonizer's language and political system. This produced three main outcomes. (1) White settlers became a sizable minority in certain parts of Africa, which yielded electoral representation. Settler-minority regimes strongly opposed political rights for non-whites. (2) Settlers reversed their support for electoral institutions when their dominance was threatened. In the British West Indies in the mid-nineteenth century, white planters responded to the prospect of political control by Black politicians by disbanding their elected legislatures and accepting direct British Crown rule. (3) In some colonies with few settlers, a non-white middle class educated in the colonizer's language emerged. These elites were especially strong in the major port cities in South Asia and West Africa, and in colonies with emancipated slaves. Non-white elites in these areas gained representation by the 1920s, although with limited autonomy and a narrow franchise.

This chapter develops a theoretical framework centered on three actors: metropolitan officials, white settlers, and non-Europeans. Colonists could pressure the colonial state through lobbying/agitation, nonparticipation, and revolt; and metropolitan officials could respond by offering electoral concessions. What mattered? (1) Metropoles with pluralistic institutions should be more responsive to demands for electoral representation. (2) Sizable white settlements should trigger early electoral institutions (prodemocratic effect), but resistance by smaller settler minorities to franchise expansion could undermine the democratic foundations created by early elections (antidemocratic effect). (3) Where local elites were weak, non-Europeans should not gain early elections. Instead, they would move rapidly to mass-franchise elections with high autonomy after World War II, when the threat of revolt spiked. In cases with a large non-white middle class, we expect early elections with small franchises and low autonomy, which should broaden peacefully over time. Finally, cases with a national monarch should correspond with high autonomy but without meaningful electoral bodies.

Colonial electoral institutions influenced postindependence democracy levels. (1) Lengthy democratic exposure under colonialism usually produced stable postcolonial democracies. Often, a non-white middle class pushed for and participated in elections for multiple decades prior to independence. Early colonial elections involved a tiny segment of the population, but electoral reforms deepened over time and yielded institutionalized parties. After independence, institutionalized parties and democratically socialized elites acted as a buffer against military coups and executive power grabs. Some settler colonies followed this path as well. (2) Many colonies inherited democratic-looking institutions at independence, but these institutions reflected relatively shallow, post-WWII concessions. Few colonies with short colonial pluralism were democratic within a decade of independence, although some experienced post-Cold War democratization episodes. (3) Other colonies gained no meaningful electoral experience. Regimes established by successful anticolonial rebels and monarchies monopolized military power and constructed durable authoritarian regimes after independence.

This chapter summarizes the main findings thematically, including the theory (actors, goals, and strategic options), the pluralism of metropolitan institutions, the dual effects of white settlers, pressure from non-Europeans, and postcolonial persistence. We also develop broader implications for numerous segments of the democratization literature, including top-down democratic transitions, social classes and democratization, democratic sequencing, dominant-party democracies, non-Western institutions and democracy, and international democracy promotion.

Prospects for successful mass revolts increased dramatically after 1945, but the pace of reform and approaches to decolonization varied. Some colonizers moved to mass-franchise elections and high autonomy, ending with formal independence – whereas others sought to cling to power. This yielded three main outcomes. (1) Franchise size and legislative autonomy expanded rapidly in most colonies ruled by democratic powers. These processes tended to occur earlier when left-wing governments were in power, who were less tied to the colonial project. (2) White settler elites and the governing class in authoritarian metropoles opposed empowerment for non-whites, who they perceived as an existential threat to their social status and economic rents. This prompted anticolonial revolts by disenfranchised Africans and Arabs. (3) Colonial officials sometimes granted autonomy to nonelectoral institutions if doing so would avoid revolt and be acceptable to metropolitan opinion. This desire led to a distinct type of authoritarian decolonization, prevalent among British colonies, in which the colonizer handed off power to a national monarch.

Why are some countries more democratic than others? For most non-European countries, elections began under Western colonial rule. However, existing research largely overlooks these democratic origins. This book analyzes a global sample of colonies across four centuries to explain the emergence of colonial electoral institutions and their lasting impact. The degree of democracy in the metropole, the size of the white settler population, and pressure from non-Europeans shaped the timing and form of colonial elections. White settlers and non-white middle classes educated in the colonizer’s language usually gained early elections, but settler minorities resisted subsequent franchise expansion. Authoritarian metropoles blocked elections entirely. Countries with lengthy exposure to competitive colonial institutions tended to consolidate democracies after independence. By contrast, countries with shorter electoral episodes usually shed democratic institutions, and countries that were denied colonial elections consolidated stable dictatorships. Regime trajectories shaped by colonial rule persist to the present day.

Before the nineteenth century, most European colonies were located in the New World. British colonies experienced more electoral competition because of parliamentary institutions at home. British-settled colonies in North America, the West Indies, and Oceania routinely gained fully elected assemblies shortly after settlement. However, the early British empire was far from democratic: voting rights were confined to white property-owning men, London occasionally pushed back on settlers’ policymaking autonomy (prompting the American Revolution), and colonies with Catholic or convict populations experienced long delays before gaining electoral representation. Prior to the French Revolution, colonists in the French, Spanish, and Portuguese empires lacked electoral representation beyond the municipal level. Afterward, political transformations in authoritarian metropoles triggered reforms to colonial institutions. France fluctuated between democratic and authoritarian institutions after the French Revolution, and colonial institutions closely tracked metropolitan patterns. Spain and Portugal engaged in abortive electoral reforms in their colonies, which preceded the dissolution of their American empires.

In the mid-twentieth century a flow of books written by women writers was published. These works reformulated the emancipatory imaginaries of the political and artistic avant-gardes of the 1920s with original explorations of gender and affective relationships. In these books can be seen the emergence of a new sensibility along with a new poetics that nourishes the demands of the market and the expectations of a wider and more diversified audience prone to reading new experiences, innovative aesthetics, and novel affects. This chapter heeds the articulation of the sensitive and the political in different writers. Salvadora Medina Onrubia, Norah Lange, and Sara Gallardo are the writers of different decades who through their work, the literary-discursive figures they created, and their biographical stories displayed passionate and conflictive interactions with their time. They pursued emancipation specially through language. Literary texts, public speech, and print columns help them to mobilize more than just a political idea or a literary project, by activating perceptions, emotions, sensibilities, and public imaginations. This chapter will analyze the host of feelings that emerged in this process, mainly women’s genuine interest to get close to other women.

This chapter maps out two decades of novelistic production starting with Respiración artificial by Ricardo Piglia in the midst of the dictatorship. An archival pursuit of a history of violence constitutive of national foundations, the narrative insinuates the possibility of a national project where silenced voices might have a hearing. Whereas in Piglia, modernist fragmentation signals an enigma that needs to be solved, in Reina Roffe’s La rompiente a shattered and disrupted memory both names the horror and promises a break away from archival sites of authority. Los Pichiciegos by Rodolfo Fogwill offers a vision of the Malvinas/Falklands War that is both hallucinatory and hyperreal, facing simultaneously the darkness of the present and a visionary glance revealing novel forms of destitution in the making. In novels published in the 1990s such as Matilde Sanchez’s El dock, Rodolfo Fogwill’s Vivir afuera, Sergio Chefjec’s El aire and Los planetas, the characters’ aimless wanderings might be said to explore the failure of memory as historical direction, as national reckoning, as a form of political representation, as harnessing community, yet memories of the horror persist beyond any general project of political reconstitution and the capacity of literature to repair or bestow meaning.