Flourishing in present-day Peru centuries before the Inca, the Moche, sometimes called the Mochica, remain somewhat mysterious compared with more recent pre-conquest cultures. What is known about them comes primarily from crumbling temples and long-ago ransacked graves, which have revealed skilled artisans and architects with a rich spiritual tradition. Twenty-first century discoveries of intact tombs and remains have provided more clues to their long-extinct culture, including some surprising discoveries about their political and social hierarchy.

Who Were the Moche?

Though the Inca civilization is the pre-conquest culture most commonly associated with Peru, the region was once home to a number of significant civilizations that either died out before or were ultimately conquered by the Inca, dating back thousands of years.

The Moche occupied what is today the northern coast of Peru for a period of approximately 700 years, from 100 to 800 AD. While scholars disagree whether the Moche were a cohesive empire or multiple distinct groups, they were unified by a shared culture and were arguably one of the first complex societies of the region. The Moche were skilled artisans and innovative farmers who developed a hierarchical political organization as well as a system of religious beliefs and ritual practices.

What is known about the Moche comes primarily from the murals, ceramics, graves and buildings they left behind. Their ceramics, in particular, feature a realistic style of artwork that, in the absence of a writing system, reveals a great deal about everyday life in Moche society. Ancient temples and huacas provide insight into their long-forgotten gods and goddesses while burial practices reveal not only further spiritual insights but the culture’s social hierarchy as well—as in so many pre-modern cultures, the more goods, and even servants, you were buried with, the more important you were.

Still, what is known for certain about the Moche is somewhat limited. It is believed they spoke two languages and had multiple important rulers in different regions rather than one central king or queen. They were polytheistic, but few gods beyond Ai Paec, the creator god, and Si, the moon goddess, are known. Evidence exists for human sacrifice and other offerings made to these gods. Artifacts from distinct regions of South America, for example, bird feathers from the Amazon, suggest the Moche traded with other cultures.

The collapse of the Moche is thought to have been precipitated by climate change and the expansion of rival cultures, including the Wari and Chimu, which rose to power in the region as the Moche culture declined. Ultimately, the Moche turned to infighting over scarcer resources, were conquered by other cultures and died out.

Uncovering the Moche

Evidence of the Moche culture first began to be excavated and documented by researchers in the late 19th century, with the first theories about the culture’s origins, practices and beliefs developing in the mid-20th century. Early discoveries were primarily temples, stepped pyramidal structures that likely also served as burial sites for prominent elites—and were largely looted long before the structures were excavated.

The discovery of intact graves at a number of sites in the 1980s marked a turning point, at which both the human remains and the goods buried with them allowed scholars to develop a more comprehensive picture of the Moche and their rituals. The first of these was discovered in 1987 at Huaca Rajada, near the village of Sipán in the Lambayeque region, and unearthed a set of remains known today as the Lord of Sipán.

Buried in approximately 250 AD, the Lord of Sipán’s untouched grave provided a wealth of information about how the Moche treated their royal dead—beginning with the skeleton watching guard over the grave, revealing that important Moche were likely buried with guardians or servants who were sacrificed in order to continue serving in the afterlife.

The Lord of Sipán had been buried with a wealth of goods for the afterlife and was dressed in fine regalia including a gold mask, headdress, necklaces, ear spools and additional ostentatious ornamentation. “Based on a comparison of his regalia with iconographic depictions found in his tomb, this man is understood to have been a high-ranking Moche warrior-priest or a lord. Half god, half man, he was very likely the pre-eminent ruler of the Lambayeque valley.” He was also buried with what were likely his wives and several animal sacrifices.

Further excavation at the site has revealed multiple tombs, demonstrating the various goods and sacrifices that might accompany Moche of varying social ranks, echoed in discoveries at other sites, including Huaca del Sol (Temple of the Sun), Huaca de la Luna (Temple of the Moon), and El Brujo. All of these 20th century finds were male leaders, warriors or priests; women found in the graves with them were comparatively unadorned and assumed to be wives or servants. As a result, researchers concluded that men were the dominant rulers in Moche culture.

Discovery of the Dama de Cao

It was at El Brujo that archaeologists would make the discovery that first challenged and ultimately upended this conclusion. In 2005, five intact tombs were identified at Huaca Cao Viejo, one of the temples at the ancient El Brujo Moche site. One in particular, tomb 3, stood out due to its decoration and the grave goods within. Archaeologists found two sets of human remains in the tomb, one wrapped in a funerary bundle: a servant and someone of high rank, the owner of the tomb, so to speak. Imagine their surprise when initial studies of the bundle revealed the remains of a woman.

The funerary bundle was dated to approximately 500 AD and exceptionally well-preserved for its age. Scientists took great pains to protect it as they began to unwrap and study its astonishing contents. Within they discovered layer after layer of mantles, golden ornaments, ceremonial weaponry, crowns, earspools and ultimately the well-preserved and tattooed body of a diminutive woman who, in direct contrast to conventional understandings of the Moche, must have wielded power and influence to have merited such a burial.

The Dama de—or “Lady of”—Cao, as she was ultimately named, stood approximately 4’ 11” tall and was 25 to 30 years old at the time of her death. Her mummified body bore visible tattoos of animals also featured prominently in Moche spiritual iconography, including snakes and spiders, suggesting her connection with religious activities. She was buried with 44 nose ornaments, metallurgical works of art reserved for Moche elites. The two large war clubs and multiple spear throwers found with her would also seem to indicate she was a warrior. Later studies of her remains indicate that she likely died from eclampsia, seizures that develop in pregnancy or shortly after childbirth. More recently, in 2017 a digital reconstruction of her face was produced, bringing the ancient warrior-priestess to life for the modern audience.

Dr. Régulo G. Franco Jordan, one of the Peruvian archaeologists who found her, stated “There was no doubt about it, before us was a woman who had wielded immense power in her lifetime… She appeared to be an authoritative figure—likely a curandera, or priestess—deeply connected to the heavens and skilled in astronomy. We are discussing a semi-divine individual of incredibly high rank, wielding both spiritual and political influence.”

What the Dama de Cao Reveals About the Moche

Beyond the suggestion that at least one Moche woman held political and religious power in her day, the excellent preservation of the Dama de Cao and her funerary bundle revealed a great deal about Moche burial practices, artistry, social hierarchy and ritual life. Her nose ornaments, for example, confirm that Moche society included specialized craftsmen dedicated to producing luxury items for its elite. The presence of cinnabar in her grave revealed its use for funerary and ritual purposes.

As it turns out, the Dama de Cao was the first prominent Moche noblewoman discovered, but not the last. In 2013, for example, a similarly adorned female mummy was discovered at San Jose de Moro. Dating to approximately 750 AD, this likely priestess was buried with human sacrifices and an anthropomorphized coffin “wearing” a copper mask and sandals. She was the eighth Moche noblewoman found at the site, which, according to its project director has only yielded female elites.

Far from an anomaly, the Dama de Cao appears to have been one of many powerful female figures in Moche history. Though researchers cannot determine the exact roles they played in Moche society—whether rulers, priestesses, warriors, or all three—their specific positions are less important than the confirmation that Moche society was not strictly patriarchal. Women could and did wield the power and influence that shaped this enigmatic society, earning the respect and ritual admiration of their people, even in death.

In the 18th century, the once-great Inca empire’s Indigenous peoples were forced to labor for the Spanish crown. In 1780, leader Túpac Amaru II led a revolt against the Spanish colonists that turned Peru’s social structure upside down. Although his attempts to overthrow Spanish rule were ultimately unsuccessful, he is today considered one of the continent’s greatest revolutionaries.

Destiny: Túpac Amaru II’s Royal Lineage

Although known to history as Túpac Amaru II, he was born José Gabriel Condorcanqui Noguera. The son of a local official, José Condorcanqui, he was descended from a long line of Inca royalty, including the famed Túpac Amaru I. The first Túpac Amaru was the last ruling monarch of the neo-Inca state, killed by the Spanish in 1570. José’s royal lineage and resentment of Spain encouraged him to adopt the name Túpac Amaru II during his revolutionary years.

José Condorcanqui was born in 1742 in the Tinta district of Peru, near Cuzco. At the time of his birth, Peru was entirely under Spanish rule. He attended a special Spanish school for the children of kurakas or caciques (Inca officials) and was baptized as a Christian at birth. José was the perfect image of a nobleman, fluent in both his native Quechua and Spanish, thanks to his Jesuit education.

When he was just 18 years old, both of José’s parents died, leaving him to inherit his father’s title of cacique. Around the same time, José married Micaela Bastidas Puyucahua, an indigenous noblewoman who supported her husband throughout the revolution.

As cacique, Condorcanqui witnessed firsthand the brutality of Spanish rule. Indigenous groups were being forced into labor in mines and textile mills, a system known as mita. To make matters worse, Spanish authorities were heavily taxing natives and charging unfair prices for everyday commodities. The plight of the indigenous workers was one of the main drivers of Túpac Amaru II’s rebellion.

Tensions Rise Under Spanish Rule

In 1542, the Spanish conquistador Francisco Pizarro arrived in Peru, marking the beginning of the end for the Inca Empire. Before Pizarro’s conquest, the Inca had ruled the Quechua-speaking peoples around their capital city of Cuzco for centuries. Pizarro brought down the reigning monarch, Atahualpa, and established Spanish rule. In 1570, Atahualpa and his descendants, including Túpac Amaru I, attempted unsuccessfully to oust the Spanish.

At the time of José Condorcanqui’s rise to power, the working conditions of the mitayos (natives forced into labor) had become intolerable. Because much of the ruling class, including José, were of mixed heritage, both native and Spanish, they tended to relate more to the conquerors than to the common indigenous peoples. Nobles were not required to serve in the mandatory labor force or pay the exorbitant taxes required of commoners. Unlike those around him, José could not ignore the cruelty he witnessed.

Seeds of Túpac Amaru’s Rebellion

Violent resistance was not José Condorcanqui’s preferred method for ending the unjust treatment of the natives. He first attempted to go through legal channels, using his status as a local cacique. Condorcanqui demanded an end to the forced labor and oppression of the indigenous peoples. Despite his efforts, he was ignored by the Spaniards in power.

In 1770, he adopted the name Túpac Amaru II. His purpose in doing this was two-fold. Emphasizing his heritage as a descendant of Túpac Amaru I established his legitimacy as an Incan ruler and promoted acceptance by the native masses. Because Túpac Amaru I was the last figure to take a firm (albeit unsuccessful) stand against the Spanish, adopting the name also allowed him to embody the spirit of resistance to oppression that is symbolized by the story of the last Sapa Inca (Inca monarch). By renaming himself after the great Inca monarch, Túpac Amaru II was setting himself up to lead a rebellion in the name of the lost Inca Empire.

The Last Inca Revolution Begins

During Túpac Amaru’s rule as cacique, the local Spanish corregidor (magistrate) was a particularly cruel man named Antonio Arriaga. A man of noble Spanish lineage, he had become infamous in Tinta for recruiting native laborers for the Potosi mines. Túpac Amaru II was well acquainted with Arriaga and had disputed with him over the inhumane conditions of the forced labor Arriaga presided over.

On the night of November 4, 1780, a party was held in Tinta, perhaps celebrating the Spanish King Charles III’s name day. The guest list featured noblemen and officials from the surrounding areas, including Túpac Amaru II and Antonio Arriaga. Túpac Amaru II allegedly left the party quite early compared to many other guests.

As the story goes, Arriaga left the party late at night (and possibly quite drunk). On his way home, he was ambushed by an entourage of men led by none other than Túpac Amaru II. Although he tried to evade capture, Arriaga was seized and imprisoned. In captivity, Arriaga was forced to write a series of letters to local Spanish officials inviting them to Tinta. The letters also asked officials to send money, which raised 25,000 pesos for Túpac Amaru II’s rebellion.

On Friday, November 10th, surrounded by a crowd of natives and Spaniards who had come by his own invitation, Arriaga was executed by hanging. This was the dramatic call to action Túpac Amaru II had been waiting to make. Using the funds he had raised, Túpac Amaru II quickly amassed an army of native and mestizo fighters. He traveled to various villages and declared the mita over and all taxes abolished, gaining support and recruiting revolutionaries.

A week after Arriaga’s execution, the rebels attacked in the Battle of Sangarará, killing 570 Spaniards hiding out in a church. They then captured the villages of Punapuquio and Pumacanchi, where they acquired muskets to arm most of their forces. The most significant Peruvian uprising since Pizarro’s conquest had officially begun.

Inca vs. Spanish: Open War in Peru

By December of 1780, Túpac Amaru II’s army numbered 60,000 native fighters (according to his own accounts). His rebellion represented the revival of the Inca empire, something most indigenous groups naturally identified with. Túpac Amaru II reportedly adopted the Inca style of dress and spoke to his troops in Quechua, further evoking their ancient roots.

Túpac Amaru II’s armies waged war in the area for the next several weeks. He tried twice to capture the capital city of Cuzco, unsuccessfully both times. He retreated to his home in Tinta to regroup and rethink his strategy. Little did he know his opponents were bringing the battle to him.

Under the orders of the Spanish-appointed visitador general, José Antonio de Areche, an army of 17,000 Spaniards and loyal natives was assembled to take on Amaru’s 60,000. Despite being outnumbered, they had the advantage of superior weaponry. General José del Valle y Torres led them to Cuzco in February 1781.

Túpac Amaru II’s reckoning came at the Battle of Checcacupe on April 6, 1781. After losing the battle to Valle’s forces, Túpac Amaru II was captured, along with his wife and two of their sons. They were dragged back to Cuzco in a public procession, which brought them to the capital city’s public square.

Túpac Amaru II’s Execution & Aftermath

Túpac Amaru II’s execution took place on May 18th, 1781, in Cuzco’s Plaza de Armas. The revolutionary leader was first forced to watch the executions of his family. He was then given a very public and brutal sentence. Amaru was first tortured, then drawn and quartered. His dismembered body was burned and publicly displayed in various nearby towns.

Areche took decisive action against the indigenous population in the aftermath of the revolution. He enforced cultural erasure by outlawing the Quechua language and destroying all books, images, and stories glorifying the ancient Inca culture. The remainder of the royal Inca family was systematically hunted down and executed.

In the end, the revolution claimed the lives of over 100,000 people, most of whom were indigenous fighters. Although it was ultimately unsuccessful, Túpac Amaru II’s rebellion permanently altered the landscape of colonial power in Peru. Forty years after his death, Peru would gain independence from the Spanish, inspired largely by Túpac Amaru II’s resistance against foreign oppression. The themes of his rebellion would continue to echo into history far beyond his own time.

Túpac Amaru II’s Legacy: Revolutionary Icon

To this day, Túpac Amaru II is hailed as one of the world’s greatest revolutionaries (and yes—your favorite rapper was, in fact, named after him).

In the early 1980s, a group emerged in Peru calling itself the Túpac Amaru Revolutionary Movement, or the MRTA (Movimiento Revolucionario Túpac Amaru). The MRTA was a Marxist-Leninist group that aimed to establish socialist rule in Peru. Claiming to have been inspired by Túpac Amaru II’s anti-colonial ideologies, they named their group in his honor. A violent guerrilla group, the MRTA was considered a terrorist organization by the governments of Peru and the United States for many of its active years.

Túpac Amaru II is now a household name throughout Peru. Despite the Spanish authorities’ attempts at censorship, his legacy was maintained in the hearts and minds of the indigenous population. Today, a plaque honors him in Cuzco’s central plaza, where he and his family, and his great-great-grandfather 200 years before him, were all executed.

Túpac Amaru II remains a national symbol of strength and resistance against oppression for all of Peru.

During the 20th century, Latin America played host to multiple dictatorships and authoritarian governments that profoundly shaped its institutions and political landscape. In the context of the Cold War and ideological polarization, its closeness to the United States resulted in support for various military dictatorships. Only Mexico, Costa Rica, and Belize managed to maintain relatively stable democratic institutions. These dictatorships left open wounds that impact the region to this day. Learn more about the lesser-known Latin American dictatorships that shaped Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Nicaragua, Guatemala, and Panama.

1. The Duvaliers in Haiti (1957-1986)

In 1963, the outlook in Haiti was grim: a hurricane had destroyed nearly everything, relief funds were not distributed, strikes were widespread, and a military president abused his power by imprisoning opponents and shutting down newspapers. Hope was renewed during the elections when François Duvalier, a shy rural doctor and advocate for the poor, won. People supported him because they felt that, at last, someone was looking out for them, earning him the paternal nickname “Papa Doc.” However, it wasn’t long before he forgot his roots and promises and began to wield power ruthlessly, without any justification or even an ideology.

He focused on amassing vast personal wealth and eliminating any opposition. He organized popular militias known as the Tonton Macoute, named after a bogeyman in Haitian mythology. These were death squads responsible for disappearing regime opponents. They committed countless murders—some by stoning and burning their victims alive—as well as rapes and robberies. Duvalier also fostered a cult of personality, using the voodoo religion and instilling fear based on popular beliefs in order to control the population.

Near the end of his life, the self-proclaimed “president for life” amended the constitution to appoint his 19-year-old son, “Baby Doc,” as president. His father was more cruel and repressive, while he was openly more corrupt and flaunted a luxurious lifestyle. The situation began to unravel due to international pressures, the withdrawal of U.S. military and economic support, the strengthening of the opposition, and popular protests and movements, culminating in a coup that finally ended the dictatorship in 1986.

2. Rafael Trujillo in the Dominican Republic (1930-1961)

In the army, Rafael Trujillo, born into a large, poor family, found a way to get ahead, eventually becoming a general in the Armed Forces. In 1930, during a revolt against President Horacio Vázquez, he took advantage of the situation to present himself as a presidential candidate. He used his power in the armed forces to violently force other candidates to resign. Throughout his government, he continued this strategy of violence and repression: he prohibited political parties and forced all citizens to join the official party.

He established a cult of personality, promoting an excessive adoration of himself: he renamed Santo Domingo “Ciudad Trujillo,” filling the country with monuments in his honor and streets with his name. He even considered himself a saint and wanted all Dominicans to place his picture next to the altar of Jesus.

The bloodiest event during his dictatorship was the infamous 1937 Parsley Massacre.  Over four days, more than 20,000 Haitians, including women and children, were killed, mostly using machetes and knives. The massacre’s perpetrators would test the “Dominicanhood” of their potential victims through the pronunciation of the word “parsley,” giving the event its name. Trujillo promoted an anti-Haitian ideology and covered up the massacre through fear, silencing local witnesses.

His regime ended after an ambush on the road by a group of Dominican armed forces and former collaborators armed with weapons provided by the CIA. He was shot sixty times.

3. Somoza Family in Nicaragua (1936-1979)

From a wealthy background, Anastasio Somoza made his way as a businessman and in politics. He served as governor, consul, foreign minister, and head of the National Guard. He took advantage of this last position to consolidate his power through political persecution. He perpetrated a coup d’état and managed to stay at the helm of Nicaragua for nearly two decades until he was assassinated by the poet Rigoberto López, a supporter of Nicaraguan freedom and revolution. However, freedom did not last long, as the regime soon fell into the hands of his sons: Luis and Anastasio.

During the Somoza dynasty, the Nicaraguan state, economy, and infrastructure were modernized. But the period was also marked by repression and inequality. The concentration of power and national wealth in the hands of the Somozas was notable. The government was oriented exclusively to their personal interests, with no respect for institutions and no limits. Over four decades, the family accumulated enormous wealth through corruption, corporate bribery, industrial monopolies, land appropriation, and diversion of foreign aid. They owned about 23% of the land in Nicaragua and, in terms of wealth, it is speculated they held the equivalent of half of Nicaragua’s debt and 33% of the GDP.

The regime’s own corruption, particularly after the 1972 earthquake, generated deep discontent that, along with human rights violations, the strengthening of the opposition, armed insurgency, and international isolation, accelerated its downfall in 1979.

4. Carlos Castillo Armas in Guatemala (1954-1957)

In the mid-20th century, 76% of Guatemalans owned less than 10% of the land, while just 22% controlled nearly three-quarters. Leftist President Jacobo Árbenz promoted progressive policies, particularly agrarian reform, redistributing uncultivated lands, which affected the interests of large U.S. corporations like the United Fruit Company.

In response, the U.S. designed a program called PBSUCCESS, which, with the help of the CIA and a budget of $2.7 million for “psychological warfare and political action” and “subversion,” among other components of a small paramilitary war, launched a brutal invasion specifically designed to instill panic and draw the population and military to their side before defeating them. They accused Árbenz of being a communist, although his policies were quite moderate and inspired by Abraham Lincoln. Leadership was turned over to exiled General Carlos Castillo Armas, who had previously attempted to overthrow the government.

During his rule, a repressive and conservative state was consolidated, aligned with U.S. interests, which supported him economically and militarily. In a climate of censorship, particularly McCarthyism, he persecuted trade unionists, intellectuals, and opponents. He strengthened his relationship with the Church as an ally in the anti-communist struggle, dissolved Congress, and repealed the 1945 constitution, reversing key social reforms.

He was assassinated with two bullets in the presidential house in 1957. He left a legitimacy crisis, internal strife, and a radicalization of the opposition, laying the groundwork for a vicious cycle of violence and repression and a 36-year civil war.

5. Manuel Antonio Noriega in Panama (1983-1989)

Originating from a poor neighborhood, Noriega made his way to power through the armed forces, becoming a close informant and collaborator of the CIA. In this way, he accumulated power and wove his web of influence. He was never elected president; however, he exercised de facto power by re-electing himself as Commander of the National Guard from 1983 to 1989.

Noriega had an ambiguous relationship with the United States; at times, he was an ally and informant, but he was also an adversary, selling confidential information to Washington’s political enemies, such as drug cartels. While passing secrets about Cuba to the U.S., he sold thousands of Panamanian passports to Fidel Castro for $5,000 each, which were to be used by agents from the island and possibly from Soviet nations as well. He was also heavily involved in drug trafficking, facilitating the drug trade and collaborating with cartels.

It was difficult to know which side he was on; his thirst for power led him to do anything to obtain it, until he ultimately became a tyrant. Tensions with the U.S. peaked in the late 1980s when Noriega refused to cede power. Operation Just Cause was carried out to extradite him; he was subsequently convicted of drug trafficking, money laundering, and organized crime, receiving a 40-year prison sentence. He died in prison. When Capitol Hill cut military and economic aid to Panama’s regime, it fell into debt default, and its economy contracted by 20%.

Latin America’s Legacy of Authoritarianism

Almost all dictatorships in Latin America maintained a close relationship with the U.S., particularly due to the prevailing anti-communist climate in the region. The U.S., as the predominant power, manipulated the politics of the other countries as part of its geopolitical strategy to ensure its political and economic interests, using the fear of communism as a pretext. Many leaders were puppets, replaced and discarded when they ceased to be useful. This manipulation was also reflected in the international image, promoting narratives that legitimized these regimes while the reality, reflecting a struggle for social justice, was systematically silenced.

This had profound repercussions within these countries, as most were going through periods of economic crises, ideological polarization, and, above all, political instability, marked by a lack of democratic institutions and effective checks on power. This institutional void allowed for numerous coups, and in the absence of checks on power, cycles of violence and repression were perpetuated. The armed forces, seen as guarantors of order and stability, gained legitimacy; moreover, anti-communism justified repression as a measure to safeguard national security.

Over time, the military consolidated their positions within their spheres of influence through their connections with the U.S., access to arms, and control over economic resources. This power allowed them to accumulate wealth through corrupt practices, reinforcing their interest in maintaining power while undermining democratic institutions and human rights. A small elite group enriched themselves at the expense of the suffering of the rest, generating not only economic inequality but also a legacy of impunity.

The Cold War turned Latin America into an ideological and military battleground. The anti-communist climate and U.S. pressure enabled military dictatorships and their repressive mechanisms. Operation Condor is a clear example of how they combined cutting-edge technology and intelligence with cruel methods of torture, disappearance, and murder to instill fear and eliminate their enemies. The scars remain, as truth and justice are still pending.

The Cold War’s Global Battlegrounds

The Cold War was a confrontation between the two hegemonic powers that emerged from World War II: the United States and the Soviet Union. It was a struggle for both geopolitical and ideological control. The term “cold war” refers to a world under a constant nuclear threat, where both powers were prepared with the most advanced and lethal technology but avoided direct confrontation as it could lead to global destruction. However, the conflict was not actually as “cold” as the term suggests, as it involved diplomatic, political, social, and ideological disputes and, most notably, violent wars around the world, including the Vietnam War and the Civil War in the Congo.

Latin America was also a key battleground for the development of the conflict. The United States sought to maintain permanent control in ideological and political as well as cultural domains within its “backyard.” Any encroachment of the communist bloc onto the American continent represented a direct threat to the United States, as it could serve as a military base for missile attacks or, indirectly, as an ideological influence.

The Cuban Revolution and its Consequences

Violence in Latin America increased considerably in the 1960s as a result of the Cuban Revolution, Fidel Castro’s rise to power, and leftist nationalism. Not only did these revolutionaries overthrow the previous dictatorship, they also established the first Marxist-Leninist government in the Americas.

The mere existence of the regime encouraged and gave hope to the rest of the continent that it was possible to build a political system that challenged U.S. hegemony and political elites and transformed sociopolitical structures. It contributed to the renewal of the left and ignited the spirit and dreams of young people, leading them towards greater radicalism. However, it also aroused a deep fear of instability among the middle classes, causing polarization as these groups took much more conservative positions.

Unhappy with the situation, the United States implemented the Doctrine of National Security and sought ideological control, intensifying its interference in the political processes of Latin American countries. It also created a specific foreign policy strategy for Latin America, called the Alliance for Progress, which aimed to artificially and systematically accelerate economic development in the region based on the Western capitalist model to compete with the Soviet version based on Marxism. Additionally, it was closely tied to militarization. The Alliance failed to address the problem of Latin American development but left a deep legacy in political systems, contributing to the increase in violence in the following years.

The Seventies: Decade of Terror

During the 1960s and 70s, Latin America experienced a series of military dictatorships plagued by social tensions, violence, and repression. These were the result of the region’s economic and social crises, the exhaustion of the development model, high inflation, and significant inequalities, as well as the weakness of democratic institutions and the gradual control of governments by the military. The influence of the Cold War in political, diplomatic, and economic aspects, and particularly the foreign policy of the United States, exacerbated these crises. Radical anti-communism and the fear of instability deeply affected the armed forces, leading to the adoption of extremely repressive measures.

The United States implemented a National Security Doctrine (NSD) that promoted the idea that the military should protect the nation not only from external threats but also made citizens themselves a target. Any perceived provocation from leftist and revolutionary groups could be met with violence, including torture and forced disappearances. The U.S. actively supported many of these military regimes by providing financial, diplomatic, and military aid. For example, at the School of the Americas in Panama, military personnel from various Latin American countries were trained in counterinsurgency techniques, including torture interrogations, intelligence, military combat, kidnappings, extortion, and psychological warfare.

Emergence of Operation Condor

The violence, a result of the dictatorships and the Cold War, reached unprecedented levels in the modern history of the continent, with tens of thousands of Latin American men, women, and children tortured and murdered. The repressive phenomena adopted a practice of regional coordination in information exchange and police cooperation that allowed for the refinement of counterinsurgency measures across states. Known as Operation Condor, this policy was founded by the military juntas and formalized in 1975 in Santiago, Chile, with the support and resources of the United States government. Among its members were Chile, Argentina, Uruguay, Bolivia, Paraguay, Brazil, and later Peru and Ecuador.

As a result of the extreme anti-communist fervor of the Latin American military elite, Operation Condor aimed to eliminate political opponents of the regimes through intelligence, databases, espionage, torture, disappearances, and repression. Through fear, the military state sought to extinguish aspirations for social justice and revolution; it was a way to keep the population in a state of fear and uncertainty while the military magnified and consolidated its power over society.

The United States played a crucial role as its secret partner and sponsor. They provided financial resources to the Latin American dictatorships to maintain political control and to support the functioning of Operation Condor. The U.S. offered diplomatic assistance by minimizing international criticism of human rights violations and ensuring the achievement of the operation’s objectives.

Institutions like the CIA and the Pentagon collaborated in military training as well as in advising officers and planning operations. They provided advanced technological and military equipment, from computers and communication systems to weapons and espionage tools. They also cooperated through official and covert channels in the exchange of information.

The United States also took advantage of the Condor system to further its own interests. The exact degree of direct involvement has been hotly debated, but many Defense Department and CIA files still need to be declassified to clarify what happened.

The operation was extremely bloody and violent, where anything was permitted to ensure internal order. It operated outside the law without any limitations, violating human rights while using 20th-century science and technology. However, with its high levels of coordination, technology, and precision, it could appear quasi-legal as a counter-guerrilla and counter-insurgency institution, allowing its participants to disguise and conceal the use of criminal and terrorist methods from the rest of the world; otherwise, it would have reduced domestic and international tolerance for the regimes.

The organization was a truly well-kept secret of the Cold War. It wasn’t until 1992 that the “Archives of Terror” were discovered, a new and rare collection of documents that confirmed the testimonies of Operation Condor’s victims. However, there are still many facets to be clarified and numerous cases still awaiting justice.

The Three Phases of Operation Condor

Operation Condor was composed of three elements. The first involved establishing a communicative and informational structure among the various participants. The coordinating base was located in Santiago, Chile, where a database was generated that included information on thousands of “suspicious” individuals. This database contained files with photos, microfilms, surveillance reports, psychological profiles, personal and political backgrounds, lists of friends and family, and more.

A complex communication infrastructure between the member countries, called Condortel, was also developed. Each country had a code: Chile was Condor 1, Argentina Condor 2, Uruguay Condor 3, Paraguay Condor 4, Bolivia Condor 5, and Brazil Condor 6. This hierarchy was not random but indicated who held more power within the organization. The telecommunications network and the database were extremely sophisticated and used the most advanced technology of the time, which could only be supplied by an organization like the CIA.

The second phase involved taking action against enemies within Latin America, particularly leftist revolutionary groups, but also members of the Catholic Church who promoted Liberation Theology or any political figures deemed too problematic for the regime. The methods used ranged from interrogations and torture to disappearances, kidnappings, and murders. Prisoners were detained, tortured, and sometimes even killed in clandestine centers.

Automotores Orletti, in Buenos Aires, was one of the most important clandestine centers during this period. Operating under the facade of a mechanic shop, it was a torture center that over three hundred victims passed through, the majority of whom were killed and disappeared.

Lastly, the third phase involved continuing operations outside the Latin American region, on a global scale. It particularly targeted political leaders who were refugees or exiles, as there was fear that they might mobilize to sway world opinion and gain support against these military regimes.

The most notable operation was the assassination of Orlando Letelier, Chilean Minister of Defense during Salvador Allende’s government and thus very problematic for Augusto Pinochet’s dictatorship, especially due to his activism after exile. He was killed by a bomb planted in his car, which exploded while he was driving in Washington, D.C.

February 5, 1917: After two months of debate, delegates from the Querétaro Convention signed and ratified the Mexican Constitution, establishing a democratic republic and the direct election of all public offices. Yet for 71 years, one political party ruled Mexico with an iron grip. How did the Partido Revolucionario Institucional turn revolutionary ideals into the longest period of one-party rule in American history? Examining the PRI’s rule shows that democracy requires more than just written principles—it needs strong independent institutions, a democratic culture, and a commitment to transparency and accountability.

La Dictadura Perfecta

In 1990, Mario Vargas Llosa, Peruvian novelist and Nobel laureate, described the Partido Revolucionario Institucional as “the perfect dictatorship.” He was referring to how the party maintained an outward appearance of democracy despite their hold on power. The Institutional Revolutionary Party, or PRI, avoided many of the features of traditional dictatorships. There was no military junta or single caudillo. Instead, the PRI maintained its control through a combination of electoral manipulation, the incorporation of various interest groups, clientelism, and outright oppression.

Foundations of Power: The Early Days of the PRI

The PRI was originally founded as el Partido Nacional Revolucionario (National Revolutionary Party, PNR) in 1929 by Plutarco Elías Calles. From the outset, the party defined itself as the champion of the revolution. They adopted a populist, nationalist policy agenda, going even so far as to adopt the official colors of the Mexican flag as their own. Lázaro Cárdenas, one of the most revered Mexican presidents, was the leader who laid the true foundations for the political machine that dominated the rest of 20th-century Mexico. His presidency set the stage for decades of PRI control.

Cárdenas joined the Mexican Revolution at eighteen and quickly rose through the ranks, going from first lieutenant to brigadier general in seven years. He remained in the military until 1928, when he ran for governor of his home state of Michoacán. Cárdenas won the PNR nomination as presidential candidate in 1934 and embarked on a nationwide campaign, visiting remote rural areas and using radio to address the nation. The period before Cardenas was known as the Maximato due to the ongoing influence of Calles. In April 1936, with rumors of a Calles coup circling, Cárdenas had Calles exiled to the US.

Building the PRM: A Party of the Revolution

Cárdenas reasserted the power of the Mexican presidency, but it had become clear that presidential authority would need to be based on more than strong man leadership. In December 1937, the party voted to dissolve and reform as the PRM, or Partido de la Revolución Mexicana (Party of the Mexican Revolution). Cárdenas followed a similar move as he had done in Michoacan, incorporating key interest groups into the structure of the party.

Cárdenas’ PRM’s first pillar of support came from the Mexican armed forces, with roughly 60,000 members. To bring in the labor sector, Cárdenas backed the CTM, el Confederación de Trabajadores de México (Mexican Workers Confederation), the largest workers’ union. The CTM was given a pivotal role in the PRM’s structure. Similarly, the PRM incorporated the CNC, el Confederación Nacional Campesina (National Farmworkers Confederation), which was founded to defend the labor rights of agricultural workers. Cárdenas also incorporated a loosely organized popular sector, representing Mexico’s middle class, professionals, and government bureaucrats. In 1946, this sector would be formally integrated into the system with the formation of the CNOP, Confederación Nacional de Organizaciones Populares (National Confederation of Popular Organizations).

Institutional Strength: Cementing the PRI’s Dominance

Cárdenas’ explicit aim was to build wide representation within the party of the forces that had driven the Mexican revolution. This benefited both the government and the incorporated interest groups. The government had the political support to embark on wide reforms benefiting these sectors, including nationalization of oil production and sweeping land reforms. At the same time, the unions could move masses in support of the party during elections and political rallies.

The PRM wove itself into every part of Mexican society, from labor unions to agriculture, in a system known as corporatism. While, for example, in the UK and the US, interest groups tend to be autonomously formed and their influence determined by lobbying and financial resources, under the PRM, these groups had a permanent seat at the table and formed an organic part of the ruling party itself, reinforcing its hold on power.

However, building these alliances was not enough. The next piece of the PRM’s hold on power would come with Cárdenas’ successor, Manuel Ávila Camacho (1940-46), and the creation of the Federal Electoral Law.

Tacos de Votos: Recipes for Electoral Manipulation

That the PRM absorbed political interests through institutions is clear, but why did no real opposition arise? Although opposition existed, it remained ineffective. Electoral laws crafted by the PRM ensured it was the only party with a realistic chance of winning elections.

In 1946, the PRM was again dissolved and reorganized as the PRI, el Partido Revolucionario Institucional (Institutional Revolutionary Party). In the same year, the party passed the Federal Election Law, and from that point forward, independent candidates were prohibited from entering Mexican elections. Previous presidential races had seen prominent independent candidates challenging the PRI’s hegemony. Furthermore, to register as a political party eligible to nominate candidates, parties were required to have the backing of at least 30,000 supporters, with 1,000 supporters in each of two-thirds of the states and territories of Mexico. Unsurprisingly, few parties could hope to meet these requirements, and even fewer could consistently maintain the support and independence required to act as a true opposition party.

The 1946 Electoral Law also shifted the control, regulation, and verification of presidential and federal legislative elections from the state governments to the Interior Ministry (Secretaría de Gobernación). With this shift, one of the president’s own cabinet ministers was responsible for reporting election results and registering political parties. This gave the sitting president the power to ban the registration of certain parties, effectively modify electoral regulations, and ultimately closely control electoral outcomes.

The result was a variety of techniques for electoral fraud, for example, “Tacos de Votos”: not a delicious election day snack but the practice of stuffing ballot boxes with folded wads of ballots. Another technique involved stuffed ballot boxes, urnas embarazadas, which would arrive at the polls full of votes for the ruling party. Occasionally, official results were simply manipulated before release. Since party members controlled the process, there was no legal means by which to challenge these practices.

Clientelism: You Scratch My Back, I’ll Scratch Yours

The PRI also enjoyed a wide base of genuine popular support alongside relatively stable internal cooperation throughout much of its rule. This was thanks to its ability to bestow favors and rewards on its supporters.

Clientelism is a system where powerful individuals or groups, often politicians, provide favors or benefits—like jobs, services, or goods—to people in exchange for their political support. It’s a “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” arrangement, where both sides get something they need. In Mexico, the PRI’s dominance resulted in a clientelistic structure that spread from the poorest voters right up to the president. Within the PRI, the opportunities an individual enjoyed depended on their ability to build connections with higher-ranking politicians. In turn, a politician could depend on their network of subordinates to help them advance by mobilizing political support in exchange for political favors given to those supporters.

The networks of support an individual politician enjoyed within the party were known as camarillas, and the higher up an individual was in the party, the greater the benefits they could give to their supporters. This could be preferential access to new positions or access to funds for a particular initiative that would, in turn, benefit their supporters. Sometimes these favors could be very small. At the bottom of this chain were individual voters, particularly those in deprived urban and rural settings. Their vote for the PRI on election day could be rewarded with a torta (sandwich), a gift, or the opportunity to resolve a problem with the help of a local politician.

¡Sufragio Efectivo, No Reelección!

Notably, the PRI’s dominance was perhaps foretold, almost predetermined. Prior to the revolution, Francisco I. Madero’s demand for “no re-election,” a response to the dictatorship of Porfirio Diaz, became a powerful rallying cry. It was, therefore, fitting that it would form a key part of the 1917 Constitution. Since then, all Mexican presidents have served a single term.

The rule has had some unintended consequences and arguably led politicians to place their party above all else. Voters can neither punish nor reward the individuals they have voted for. When each legislator knows they will be out of a job in three years, how can they ensure a continued political career after leaving office? No re-election made party loyalty the most rational course of action for any legislator hoping for future opportunities.

This resulted in a malleable legislative body that largely functioned to rubber stamp executive legislative proposals, rather than engaging in independent lawmaking or challenging the power of the executive. Legislators’ primary preoccupation was to ensure they enjoyed favor from higher-ranking members of the party. The executive, therefore, held immense influence. This was most visible in the presidential succession. Throughout the PRI’s dominance, the sitting president would handpick their successor from amongst the various camarillas, an arrangement that ensured party continuity and loyalty from all levels of government.

Tlatelolco: A Nation in Blood and Silence

The PRI’s grip on power cannot be fully understood without addressing its repressive tactics. Of the many incidents during its rule, none left a deeper scar on Mexican political memory than the 1968 attack on student protesters in Tlatelolco, Mexico City.

Throughout the 1960s, many Mexican students were drawn to progressive political positions following events such as the Cuban Revolution and the Vietnam War. The PRI looked upon these happenings with significant concern, and many student leaders were closely monitored. Following a fight between police and various students on June 23, 1968, students from several universities organized strikes and marches throughout the capital, painting signs denouncing the PRI and calling for the resignation of the Mexico City chief of police.

The students organized themselves through the formation of the National Strike Council. The council used an elaborate system of committees and changing leadership to prevent the government from co-opting the protests. Over the summer of 1968, the protests continued to grow, as did the increasingly repressive response from the police, and eventually the military. During increasingly tense clashes in September 1968, dozens of students were killed and hundreds injured. The wider public and workers’ unions soon joined the movement in support of the students protesting for justice for police abuses, as well as broader calls for democratic reform.

Finally, the movement came to a horrific crescendo on October 2, 1968. Six thousand protestors had gathered for a march, set to begin from the residential area surrounding the Plaza of Tlatelolco. Finding themselves boxed by a large number of soldiers, organizers decided to remain in place and begin speaking in the plaza. Soon, armored cars began to arrive as helicopters circled overhead. Soldiers took up positions above the apartment blocks. Several students in attendance reported the arrival of plainclothes men with a single white glove and close military haircuts.

Soldiers opened fire on the main stage and into the crowd. Chaos ensued as the soldiers began beating up protestors and firing indiscriminately. Students, the wider public, and journalists were assaulted, beaten, and killed. Official figures would later claim that just 25 protestors were killed and that they had provoked the police. The actual death toll was likely between 300 and 400. By all appearances, the attack appeared to be organized and premeditated by the highest levels of the Mexican government. 
The PRI’s dominance in 20th-century Mexico is a powerful reminder that democratic principles can be hollow without genuine checks on power. Through corporatist institutional control, clientelism, electoral manipulation, and repression, the PRI created a political machine that reneged on the revolutionary promises that brought it to power. By weaving itself into society’s fabric, it blurred the lines between state and party. Its tight, centralized control over the electoral system ensured it would be many years before genuine opposition could emerge. It was not until the year 2000 that Vincent Fox, from the Partido Acción Nacional (National Action Party), won the presidential election, finally ending the PRI’s 71-year grip on power.

Bibliography

Edmonds-Poli, E., & Shirk, D. A. (2020). Contemporary Mexican politics. Rowman & Littlefield.

Camín, H. A., & Meyer, L. (1993). In the Shadow of the Mexican Revolution: Contemporary Mexican History, 1910–1989. University of Texas Press.

English is notorious for pickpocketing words from other languages and passing them off as its own. The number of words “borrowed” from other European languages easily reaches the thousands. But it doesn’t stop there. Over centuries of exploration and conquest, English plundered words from languages around the globe, and continues to use words from languages that have long since gone extinct. The Americas are no exception. Here are ten “English” words that actually originate from Indigenous American languages.

Indigenous Languages of the Americas

Before European conquest, over 1,000 known languages were spoken in what are today the Americas. In the centuries since Columbus first set sail, many of these languages have fallen out of use, while others remain widely spoken in Indigenous communities. It is estimated that 25 million people continue to speak one of the Americas’ Indigenous languages today, including Quechua, spoken by over seven million people, and languages like Chocho, spoken by fewer than 1,000 people in Mexico.

It goes without saying that if one lands in a new place, spots a plant or animal never seen before and says, “Hey, what’s that?” and someone responds, “It’s a Blimberhopper,” well, that’s what it is. But how and why foreign words are adopted into other languages is not always so clear-cut.

And while it’s perhaps no surprise to discover Indigenous words peppering Spanish, the language of the culture that ultimately conquered most of Central and South America, there are hundreds of examples of these Indigenous languages infiltrating English as well.

With the caveat that etymology is not an exact science, modern linguists have theoretically traced all ten of the following “English” words to the Indigenous languages of the Americas.

High-Altitude South American Imports From Quechua

Quechua, or Runasimi in Quechua itself, was spoken long before the Inca empire came to rule over present-day Peru and parts of Bolivia, Argentina, Ecuador, and Chile. However, it was designated the official language of the empire (which, despite its strength and size, lasted just shy of 100 years), and its continued use was encouraged by Spanish colonizers through the mid-18th century. Today it is the most common Indigenous language family in South America and remains an official language in both Peru and Bolivia.

1. Guano

English loves a good euphemism and often employs “nicer” sounding words for objectively gross things, so it’s no surprise English has a special word for seabird and bat excrement used for fertilizer: guano. What may be a surprise is that guano was actually borrowed from Quechua by the Spanish colonizers and ultimately adopted by the English as well.

Huanu, the Quechua word for dung, was used to refer to the excrement-derived fertilizer from seabirds that populated the coast of what is today Peru and was highly prized and protected by the Incas.

2. Poncho

Given the rain, cold weather, and obvious need for wearable, water-resistant wraps in England and other parts of Europe, it’s a bit shocking that English had no word for such a garment and had to adopt someone else’s.

There are two main theories regarding the etymology of the word “poncho,” but both take us to South America, the birthplace of everyone’s favorite wearable blanket.

Some etymologists trace “poncho” back to the Quechua word punchu, used for a woven blanket-style garment with an opening in the middle for the wearer’s head. Archaeologists have found evidence of woven ponchos in the Andes dating back thousands of years. Others believe the word comes from the Araucanian word pontho, meaning “woolen fabric,” used by the Mapuche in what is today Chile.

3. Jerky

What could be more American than beef jerky, a stick of dried meat you carry with you as you round up cattle on the prairie?

Not only was the method of drying meat to create what we know today as jerky originally learned from the Incas, but the word itself also came from their language too. Ch’arki is a Quechua word meaning “dried flesh,” and this simple method of preserving llama and alpaca meat took advantage of the region’s mountain climate. Meat was salted and left to dry in the hot sun during the day and then frozen in the cold nights.

Ch’arki became charqui in Spanish and ultimately Anglicized as “jerky.”

Culinary Staples Borrowed From Nahuatl

Before the Spanish conquest, the people of the Aztec Empire spoke Nahuatl, a language, in various forms, still spoken by over a million people in what is today Central Mexico. Most linguists studying the language believe it actually originated in what is the present-day southwestern United States and spread south. So perhaps its northward trajectory into English is just a return to its roots?

4. Chili 

A hearty bowl of chili on a cold winter’s day is so delicious you probably never stopped to consider where the name came from.

Chili is taken directly from the Nahuatl word chili, used for what we now call peppers. Some linguists like to specify that chili specifically referred to hot peppers, but as that’s the only type of the fruit native to the Americas, it’s rather redundant, akin to saying “pepper peppers.”

Though the exact origins of chili are unclear, it appears to have evolved from a variety of stews being consumed in what is now Mexico and Texas in the 18th and 19th centuries, in which chilis, often powdered, were the key ingredient. Today’s chili often lacks the heat and spice that inspired its name, so one would be forgiven for not making the connection.

5. Chocolate

When one thinks of Mexican food, chocolate may not necessarily be the first thing that comes to mind. However, present-day Mexico is where Spanish conquistadors first encountered the delicious treat that soon spread around the world. The chocolatey sweets we consume today are dramatically different from the cold, bitter spiced cocoa beverage the conquistadors discovered Montezuma enjoying, but though the food has evolved, the name has remained more or less the same.

Xocol means bitter in Nahuatl, and atl means water or drink, so the name is a literal description of what the Aztecs were consuming at the time. The word xocolatl may look quite different from chocolate, but when you factor in the way the letter “x” is pronounced in Nahuatl, a sound similar to the English “sh,” it’s not such a stretch to see how xocolatl transformed into chocolate over the centuries.

6. Shack

Much like the object in question, this word origin explanation is a little shaky but still worth exploring. The first use of the word “shack” to describe a rickety hut is dated to the late 19th century in American English. However, a similar word was being used in Mexican Spanish, jacal, derived from the Nahuatl word for wooden hut: xacalli. We already know the Nahuatl “x” sound is similar to the English “sh,” and the Spanish “j” is pronounced as a guttural “h” sound, so it’s quite possible “shack” is an Anglicization of one or both of these words.

The Many Languages of the Maya

Many different languages, dozens of which are still spoken today primarily in southern Mexico, Guatemala, and Belize, were spoken within the Maya civilization, which itself comprised various cultures and peoples living in Mesoamerica over a period of thousands of years. Mayan is the widely used umbrella term for all of the languages originating in this region and civilization, which include K’iche’, Yucatec, and Mam, just to name a few.

Though the decline of the Mayan civilization predated the arrival of the Spanish by several hundred years, smaller empires and cities were still thriving when the conquistadors arrived in the Yucatan, and loan words from their languages were readily adopted into Spanish and English.

7. Hurricane

If you live on the East Coast of the United States, you know when hurricane season is, but between boarding up the windows and loading up sandbags, the origin of the word is probably the last thing on your mind. Not only is the word “hurricane” borrowed from the Maya, but it was also one of their gods.

Hunraqan, one-legged in Mayan K’iche’, or Huracan, was the god of wind, storms, and fire. When angered, he unleashed the violent storms the region is famous for, and they were named in his honor.

The Taíno people of the Caribbean also had a goddess who conjured up wild storms, or juracan, leading etymologists to suggest one culture adopted the word from the other. Hurricanes didn’t exist where the Spanish had come from, so they adopted the Indigenous word, which was ultimately Anglicized as “hurricane.”

8. Cigar

With angry gods unleashing punishing winds and torrential rains, the Indigenous peoples of Mesoamerica no doubt needed to relax, perhaps with the aid of one of the Americas’ most famous native plants, tobacco.

Tobacco was used for thousands of years throughout the Americas before the conquest. In Mayan civilization, it was used as an offering to the gods as well as medicinally and recreationally.

While evidence of tobacco pipes and flasks in the pre-Columbian Americas has been discovered, the Maya were also documented to have rolled tobacco leaves for smoking and had a word for it—sicar. This word was adopted by the Spanish as cigarro and ultimately by English speakers as “cigar.” In fact, some of the most expensive cigars available today are part of a collection of 600-year-old Mayan sicars discovered in Guatemala in 2012, which you can claim as your own for just a half million U.S. dollars!

Caribbean Encounters and the Legacy of the Taíno Language

Inca, Aztec, and Maya are perhaps the “big three” civilizations of the pre-Columbian Americas, but numerous smaller or more dispersed Indigenous groups and tribes thrived in the region before the conquest, and their languages were also ripe for the picking, particularly the earliest group to be encountered by Columbus, the Taíno.

The Taíno were a subset of the Arawak Indigenous peoples who occupied the Caribbean island known today as Cuba, the Dominican Republic, Haiti, and Jamaica. Unfortunately, the Taíno were exploited to the point of near extinction by Columbus and his men within just a few decades. Yet their influence remains in some of our most everyday items. You can thank the Taíno for hot summer days spent swinging lazily in a hammock and even your favorite summer cookout tradition.

9. Barbecue

Given the many millennia that humans have been cooking meat over fires, if one guesses the origin of the word “barbecue,” it would likely seem much older than it is. When the first Europeans stumbled upon the island of Hispaniola, they discovered the Indigenous inhabitants roasting meat in a unique way: on a rack of green wood over a fire. The word used for this wooden rack was barbakoa, though it was not specific to cooking; it was also the word used for the wooden racks they would sleep on.

The Spanish conquistadors adopted both the word and the cooking style, lumped them together as one, and spread it throughout the Americas. The meats used and precise cooking methods differed depending on time and place, but the word for roasting meat on a rack over a fire remained more or less the same: barbacoa in Spanish and, ultimately, “barbeque” in English.

10. Potato 

Potatoes are known to have originated in what is today Peru, so why is the English word for them derived from an Indigenous Caribbean language?

The first “potato” to reach Europe was what we now call sweet potato, which the natives of Haiti called batata and is actually unrelated to the many varieties of potato originating in Peru. When Peruvian potatoes made their way to Europe a few years later, they were similar enough in cultivation (both grow underground) and appearance that Europeans simply used the name they already had for starchy tubers. The Taíno batata became patata in European Spanish and ultimately “potato” in English.

In South America, potatoes were and continue to be called papas, the Quechua word for this native species, while the sweet potato is called camote in Mexico, Bolivia, Peru, and several other countries, a word that derives from Nahuatl.

An ancient Inca city, Machu Picchu evokes a sense of wonder and mystery, holding the secrets of a lost civilization to be rediscovered. Its abandonment during the Spanish conquest left it to fade into obscurity until 1911, when Yale researcher Hiram Bingham brought it back into the global spotlight. But he did not “discover” the city, which was shown to him by knowledgeable locals, and which had also previously been documented by Western visitors. Bingham invented the story of the lost city to capture the contemporary imagination.

Symbol of the Inca Empire

Machu Picchu, an ancient Inca city likely constructed in the 15th century, stands today as the most iconic symbol of the Inca Empire, the largest pre-colonial empire in South America due to its conquests of neighboring kingdoms. ​​

Despite the absence of a written language, the Incas devised a sophisticated system of communication and record-keeping using cords adorned with knots, known as quipus, a method that is still not fully understood today.

Their legacy encompasses extraordinary architectural and engineering accomplishments that still captivate historians and archaeologists. Constructed without the use of iron, steel, or wheels, Machu Picchu was undoubtedly a monumental architectural feat, involving the labor of thousands of people.

A Mysterious Purpose 

Situated atop a precipitous ridge between two mountains, in a region characterized by heavy rainfall and geological instability, Machu Picchu covers 80,540 acres of mountain slopes, peaks, and valleys. At its heart lies the spectacular archaeological monument known as The Citadel, situated over 7,900 feet above sea level.

While its exact purpose remains uncertain, historians and archaeologists suggest several potential explanations. One prevalent theory is that Machu Picchu served as a royal estate and retreat for the Inca emperor Pachacuti. Additionally, it may have functioned as a religious sanctuary, agricultural hub, and administrative center. The strategic location of Machu Picchu amidst the Andes Mountains suggests its significance as a cultural, religious, and political center for the Inca Empire.

A recent study proposed a groundbreaking new theory regarding Machu Picchu’s location, attributing it to geological factors. Fault lines beneath the site facilitated stone construction by naturally breaking granite into manageable pieces, aiding in drainage and water management. This suggests the Incas deliberately selected the site based on their understanding of the region’s geology. Moreover, the presence of a Quechua term for significant fractures underscores the Inca’s profound understanding of geological formations within their mountain domain.

Searching for Vilcabamba

The most well-known story attributes the site’s discovery to Hiram Bingham, a Yale researcher who traveled to Peru in search of the last Inca capital. He began his adventure in 1911, accompanied by a geologist-geographer, a topographer, a naturalist, a surgeon, an engineer, and a young assistant. The trip began in Cuzco, where they started ascending the Urubamba River valley. The expedition reached a small plain bordered by gullies, where Melchor Arteaga, a tenant of those lands, resided. He informed them that in the opposite direction lay ruins that possibly matched what they were seeking, so he offered to guide them.

After an exhausting journey, crossing the Urubamba River and ascending slopes under stifling heat, they arrived at a small hut where they were welcomed by the family living there. One of their sons volunteered to show Bingham the ruins. Just around the hill from their hosts’ dwelling, the explorer, astonished, saw hundred-stepped Inca terraces, about 330 yards long and 10 feet high. Bingham hurriedly took many photos with his Kodak No. 3A Special and wrote notes in his journals.

A year later, after securing much more funding from Yale University and the National Geographic Society, he returned to Machu Picchu with a much larger team of geologists, archaeologists, and surveyors to begin excavations with the help of indigenous people from the area.​​ Bingham faced criticism for removing thousands of archaeological artifacts to Yale University. Following long-standing legal disputes, Yale returned the collection to Peru between 2011 and 2012, where they are stored at the Museo Manuel Chávez Ballón and UNSAAC-Yale International Center in Cusco.

Discovery?

With the dissemination of his research, notably featured in a dedicated issue of National Geographic in 1913, Hiram Bingham solidified his reputation as the individual who discovered Machu Picchu. Through publications, lectures, and media coverage, Bingham’s findings captured global attention.

Despite his contributions to the discovery and initial exploration of Machu Picchu, Bingham’s approach and interpretations have been criticized by modern scholars. He was driven more by romanticized notions and preconceptions than by empirical evidence, leading to speculative theories and interpretations. He was convinced that he had found the last city of the Incas, the legendary “lost city” of Vilcabamba la Vieja, the last bastion of the independent Inca rulers who waged a lengthy battle against Spanish conquistadors.

Ironically, Bingham had already visited Vilcabamba but decided it was too small to be so legendary. He invented the new lost city and a whole story behind it. For example, during his explorations, they found dozens of bodies buried there, leading Bingham to speculate that Machu Picchu was a temple devoted to the Virgins of the Sun, a holy order of chosen women dedicated to one of the Inca’s deities, the sun god Inti. However, his theory was quickly debunked as bodies of men were found in equal or greater measure.

The “Lost” City That Never Was

A mountain of evidence attests to the fact that Hiram Bingham was not the first to reach the ruins. In the 16th century, there were references to the Machu Picchu site in the writings of Diego Rodríguez Figueroa, known then as Pijchu. Additionally, recent findings have turned up 19th-century maps in which Machu Picchu is accurately located. In the second half of the 19th century, German adventurer Augusto Berns established a mining company, which he used to plunder and sell the relics of Machu Picchu. There are even documents from 1867 that indicate that Berns had to deliver 10% of his looted gold to the Peruvian government.

In 1902, Agustín Lizárraga, a peasant employed by his landlords, embarked on a mission to explore new lands for agricultural expansion. Known for his skill in “climbing the most inaccessible places” and “challenging obstacles,” he was the ideal candidate for the task. Accompanied by his cousin, he journeyed through the rugged mountain terrain until they stumbled upon the awe-inspiring ruins of Machu Picchu. Overwhelmed by the sight, Lizárraga inscribed his name and the year on a stone, commemorating their discovery. Upon their return, Lizárraga’s landlords organized visits to the ruins, hoping to attract tourists and promote the site’s cultural significance.

When Bingham “discovered” the ruins nine years later, he ordered the inscription to be erased, citing conservation reasons. Although Bingham noted the inscription in his diary, he did not publicize its existence, choosing to remain silent on the matter.

Publicizing Machu Picchu

Bingham, it turns out, was well aware that he hadn’t “discovered” anything. He had the 19th-century maps, the resolution authorizing Berns’ presence at the historical site, and had even photographed Lizárraga’s inscription. Additionally, on his expedition, he found three families cultivating crops, including potatoes, sugar cane, yucca, sweet potatoes, and corn on the terraces of Machu Picchu. The son of one of the peasant families, the Richartes, guided Bingham’s expeditions. Bingham even mentioned in his diaries that if it hadn’t been for the boy, they would never have reached the ruins. But Bingham made no effort to dispel his reputation as the great discoverer.

While Hiram Bingham’s efforts to investigate, excavate, and publicize the historical significance of Machu Picchu should be acknowledged, it remains essential to recognize that the site was never truly lost. Despite Bingham’s role in bringing Machu Picchu to the attention of the world, the site had always been known to locals in the area. His actions underscore a broader narrative often seen in historical exploration: the voices of distant explorers often overshadow the knowledge and heritage of indigenous communities. While Bingham’s efforts were instrumental in popularizing Machu Picchu globally, it’s crucial to recognize the enduring connection of indigenous communities to their heritage sites.

As El Salvador careened toward civil war in 1980, a notable voice for the poor and oppressed, Archbishop Óscar Romero, was gunned down in church. A decade of violence, repression, and political upheaval followed. In the over 40 years since his death, no one has ever gone to prison for his murder. Who was responsible for not only silencing Romero, now a saint, but also ensuring that no one would be held accountable?

Background: El Salvador’s Impending Civil War

In the late 1970s, El Salvador was on the brink of civil war. Decades of severe socioeconomic inequality favoring the landed elite minority had created a precarious power imbalance and a poor majority that was growing increasingly fed up with the situation. A military-elite coalition was necessary to maintain order, and it began to crumble as a slowly emerging middle class began pushing for reform. Violent crackdowns on opposition, supported internationally in the context of the Cold War, further radicalized the country’s citizenry, which continued to organize and found a surprising ally in the Catholic Church.

Despite a long history of allying with conservative, elite governments, after Vatican II, some clergy had begun pursuing a more progressive approach to social justice issues, culminating in the birth of “liberation theology.” Focused on actively addressing the struggles and root causes of poverty, this ideology was necessarily at odds with many Latin American governments that sought to maintain the status quo, including El Salvador.

Why Was Oscar Romero Murdered?

Named Archbishop of San Salvador in 1977, Óscar Romero’s closest friends maintain that he was never a liberation theologist, but a shift in his more conservative approach to social justice issues was seen shortly after he took on his new role. A fellow priest and close friend was gunned down by government forces for helping peasants to organize, and the tragedy seemed to radicalize him.

He later said, “If they killed him for doing what he did, then I too have to walk the same path.” He not only began to speak out against military and paramilitary violence but became a voice for El Salvador’s poor as well.

By 1980, Romero had written to US President Jimmy Carter to plead with him to cease providing military aid to the government—to no effect other than the Catholic radio station being bombed the day after he shared his letter with listeners. Colleagues reveal that Romero was receiving death threats—a bomb was even found behind the pulpit after one mass—and though he had come to see his assassination as inevitable, he continued to pursue his mission. On March 23, 1980, Romero delivered what would be his final appeal to El Salvador’s military, demanding they stop the violence.

Mastermind: Roberto d’Aubuisson

The very next day, while saying mass in the chapel of a hospital in San Salvador, Romero was shot and killed by a lone gunman, taking aim from a car through the open doors of the church.

Despite Romero’s fame and popularity, attempts to bring his killer to justice proved just as fruitless as the era’s many other murder and disappearance investigations. Though it continued throughout the 1980s, the investigation faced numerous setbacks, including death threats leading a judge to resign.

However, the unwillingness or inability to prosecute those responsible does not mean the details are unknown. Six weeks after the assassination, an ex-army intelligence officer with known death squad connections, Roberto d’Aubuisson, was arrested.

D’Aubuisson, once a student of the infamous School of the Americas, had either resigned or been forced out of the military after the most recent coup but was still working with officers in secret and frequently appeared on television to denounce “communists” who often ended up dead shortly after.

The raid resulted in a collection of documents connecting him to Romero’s murder, including the “Saravia Diary,” a notebook belonging to former Air Force Captain Álvaro Rafael Saravia. The details discovered in the documentation made it clear that d’Aubuisson, while not the assassin himself, had coordinated Romero’s murder. They implicated some of his underlings as well and supported the accusation that led to the raid in the first place—that he was planning a coup.

Yet d’Aubuisson was soon released, supported by the military segment of the coalition government, and went on to found ARENA, one of El Salvador’s most powerful political parties. As rumors of his involvement in Romero’s murder persisted, he paid someone to claim to be a guerrilla commander responsible for the assassination and maintained the accusation that Romero had been murdered by left-wing guerrillas throughout the war. After the conflict finally ended in 1992, an amnesty law banned criminal trials in connection with the thousands of civilian murders during the war. By the time a United Nations Truth Commission formally determined that d’Aubuisson had ordered Romero’s execution and named the handful of death squad members who’d carried it out, he was already dead of cancer.

Enough Guilt to Go Around: Co-conspirators

D’Aubuisson was hardly working alone. Death squads, as the right-wing paramilitary groups were often called, were not, in fact, rogue gangs; they were largely soldiers and police officers engaged in activities that were not officially sanctioned, giving the government plausible deniability. Much of the intelligence they used to carry out attacks came from the country’s military intel units, and a substantial amount of their support ultimately came from legitimate stakeholders in the country’s conflict: politicians, landowners, and businessmen.

As the UN Truth Commission explained, “. . . some of the richest landowners and businessmen inside and outside the country offered their estates, homes, vehicles, and bodyguards to help the death squads. They also provided the funds used to organize and maintain the squads, especially those directed by former Major D’Aubuisson.”

These same stakeholders also played a role in ensuring that paramilitary groups were never held accountable for their activities—as did a key Cold War ally, the United States. Military aid to El Salvador skyrocketed during the war, despite the knowledge that arms as well as intel provided were being used by the death squads, while Ronald Reagan’s administration worked to discredit journalists attempting to report the truth. But beyond arming and funding the violence, there is also substantial evidence that the CIA actually knew who murdered Romero in the 1980s.

Despite public calls for justice, the US felt that “solving” the crime would undermine broader efforts to ensure that the right maintained power in the fight against communism. Declassified CIA documents dated from 1987 demonstrate that they had substantial intelligence related to the murder, including a lengthy list of probable conspirators and even names of possible assassins.

Accountability: Álvaro Rafael Saravia 

In a groundbreaking report first published by El Faro in 2010, Álvaro Saravia, wanted in the US in connection with Romero’s assassination, offered his version of events. While hiding somewhere in Latin America, Saravia insisted that he did not pull the trigger but acknowledged his involvement in the plot.

He claims that d’Aubuisson ordered the assassination and that the team that carried it out included members from his organization as well as from the team of the former president’s son, Mario Molina. Others involved in the plot, according to Saravia, included the chauffeur, Amado Garay, and Captains Eduardo Avila and Fernando Sagrera, as well as the actual assassin. Many of the names Saravia provided can be found in declassified CIA documents of the era, and they supported the decades-old conclusions of the UN Truth Commission.

Saravia also provided extensive details about the event, including that the assassination squad, unsure where the church was actually located, ended up taking two cars. The car Saravia was in, driven by a friend who was allegedly in the wrong place at the wrong time, parked out front, while the assassin’s car, a red Volkswagen Passat provided by d’Aubuisson, stopped behind the chapel. He also noted that they were working from a safe house owned by businessman Roberto Daglio, who helped bankroll d’Aubuisson’s illegal activities, and claimed that Eduardo Lemus O’Byrne, another Salvadoran businessman, gave him the 1,000 colones (equivalent to USD $114 in today’s money) to pay the unnamed assassin.

To date, the name of the person who actually pulled the trigger remains unverified. Saravia described the paid assassin as a tall, bearded man but never named him. In 2000, The Guardian investigative reporter Tom Gibb claimed that a number of associates of known death-squad member Óscar Pérez Linares recalled him taking credit for the murder. Pérez was a National Police detective who had long worked for d’Aubuisson to infiltrate rebel groups. He was killed in 1986 by a special police unit set up to investigate human rights violations, though the reporter notes one military officer suggesting Pérez and his associates simply “knew too much” to be left alive.

Justice for Óscar Romero

The amnesty laws enacted put an end to many pending investigations and trials related to paramilitary violence. Saravia, living in the US already, had at one point been named in the murder investigation, so the amnesty bought him a reprieve. But in 2003, the Center for Justice and Accountability filed a civil suit against Saravia, then selling used cars in Modesto, California. He fled but was found accountable and ordered to pay $10 million to a surviving relative of Romero’s. He’s been in hiding since. To date, he is the sole individual held accountable, in some form, for Romero’s murder.

In 2016, the controversial post-war amnesty law was overturned in El Salvador, yet little progress has been made in bringing Romero’s murderers—those who are still alive—to justice. In 2018, an arrest warrant for Saravia was issued, but he remains at large, and none of the other men he implicated were pursued. Though many of those Saravia claimed were involved have since been killed, Molina and Sagrera are believed to be still alive and living in El Salvador; Garay is in the witness protection program in the US.

Spanish America revolted from its Spanish overlords in a way that seems to have almost copied the United States of America, with one key difference. These Spanish states did not remain united, even if revolutionary figures like Simón Bolivar may have wanted it. If Bolivar could not even keep Gran Colombia together, how did Dom Pedro I maintain a united Brazil?

Turmoil in Spain

At the beginning of the 19th century, Spain controlled much of South America, all of Central America, and a large swath of North America. Their empire stretched from Patagonia in the south, Texas in the north, Cuba in the east, and California in the west. The main exports of the colonies were cash crops (like sugar cane and tobacco) and mining (mostly silver and gold). Silver and gold were the most important and were imported to such an extent that they even caused extreme inflation in Spain during the 16th century.

By the 19th century, Spain had declined from their glory days but was still a formidable player in the colonial world. However, things soon began to unravel due to the same thing that caused most calamities in the 1800s: Napoleon.

In 1808, Napoleon Bonaparte placed his brother, Joseph Bonaparte, on the Spanish throne. Discontent in Spain over having their monarch replaced with a foreign outsider led to the Peninsular War, which lasted until 1814, when the Bourbon Dynasty was restored in Spain, with King Ferdinand VII taking the throne.

During the Peninsular War, many Spanish colonies saw the Bonaparte king as illegitimate and started to move away from the crown or outright rebelled. When the Spanish regained the monarchy on the mainland, they were already depleted financially and militarily from fighting France. This made it extremely difficult to put down a rebellion, let alone several happening on the other side of the world simultaneously.

Spanish Colonies Rebel

Spanish America was split into four viceroyalties:

• The Viceroyalty of New Spain
• The Viceroyalty of New Granada
• The Viceroyalty of Peru
• The Viceroyalty of Río de la Plata

Revolts began across Latin America starting in 1809. New Granada rebelled in 1810. Following them, a year later in 1811, Venezuela and Paraguay declared independence. Next was Argentina in 1816 and Chile in 1818. During the chaos, Portuguese Brazil managed to annex a part of the viceroyalty of the Río de la Plata in 1817 (this territory would later form modern-day Uruguay).

Later, Mexico followed in 1821, along with all the Central American states. In 1822, Mexico joined with Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica to form the Mexican Empire. The Mexican Empire would not even last half a decade, as the Central American countries declared independence. These nations united and formed their own country, the Republic of Central America. However, this country too would fall apart.

In 1821, Peru declared its independence (and secured it in 1824). In the same year, Panama broke from Spain; however, they opted to join with Colombia. In 1822, Ecuador joined Gran Colombia as well. They were followed by Bolivia in 1825. Uruguay was finally able to declare its independence from Brazil in 1828. Despite wanting to join Argentina, it was decided that Uruguay would be made into a buffer state between Brazil and Argentina.

Spanish American Isolation

The American Revolutionary War saw 13 colonies that all shared (at least mostly) a common identity. Each colony was easily accessible to the others, which allowed trade and travel between them. They had a shared struggle in the French and Indian War and a colonial system where each colony regularly met with the other twelve.

The Spanish Viceroyalties, on the other hand, had a shared language and a colonial overlord. That is largely where their similarities end. While of course the cultures of each viceroyalty were more similar to each other than they would have been to say an English or French colony, they still were nowhere as unified as the American colonies were for two main reasons.

First: geography. Spanish America was strung out over thousands of miles, making it already a difficult journey to get from one end to the other, not even including all of the physical barriers. Look at the Andes mountains, which separate Chile from Argentina, or the almost impenetrable lush jungles of Peru. The Darien Gap in Panama (still virtually uncrossable today) physically separated South America from North and Central America. The only way to effectively communicate and trade with other viceroyalties was by sea or river, making it all the more difficult for landlocked areas.

The second reason was the Spanish colonial system itself. Spain required each of its viceroyalties to be governed independently of one another. So, if one wanted to talk or trade with another, they would have to go through Madrid; sometimes needing to physically travel all the way to Madrid and back to the Americas.

Spanish America Shattered

As regions within the same viceroyalties were isolated from each other, let alone from other viceroyalties, a collective rebellion was not feasible. While the American Revolutionaries rebelled all at once and formed a cohesive army with George Washington at its head, Spanish America could not do the same.

Different regions of viceroyalties rebelled at different times, often not even in sync within the same viceroyalty. This led to multiple strong men figures like Simón Bolívar in New Grenada (Colombia region), José de San Martín in Río de la Plata (Argentina region), and Miguel Hidalgo in New Spain (Mexico region).

Furthermore, even these figures were not able to keep their respective regions whole due to infighting and differing priorities among factions. Often, while each region was fighting the Spanish, they would have to put down rebellions against their own rule and fight civil wars amongst themselves on issues like maintaining a centralized government or evolving into a federation.

A lack of shared culture, communication, a centralized army, a unified goal, and an agreed-upon hierarchy led to Spanish America breaking up. In fact, when looking at how Spanish America was situated before it began its revolutions, it is hard to ever imagine the region being unified without Spanish force.

Fleeing Portugal

It was almost impossible to expect Spanish America to remain whole. So, how did Brazil pull it off? The answer to this question begins yet again with Napoleon.

The Portuguese crown had a different strategy than the Spanish did for dealing with Napoleon. While Spanish leaders were replaced with a French puppet and engaged in a long guerrilla war to oust the French, the Portuguese royal family simply moved the royal court to Brazil and ruled from there instead.

In 1807, King Dom João VI moved the royal court to Brazil, which made Brazil the effective head of the Portuguese Empire until 1821. During their stay in Brazil, the royal family essentially fell in love with the colony. They began investing in Brazil, funding schools, roads, and trade infrastructure. They even allowed Brazil to engage in free trade outside of their colonial overlords, particularly to trade with the British (a privilege the Spanish colonies desperately wanted). They went as far as to make Brazil a co-equal kingdom with Portugal in 1815.

Brazil was getting treatment Spanish America could only dream of, but this began to change in 1820 when a liberal revolution overtook Portugal proper. The reformers demanded that the king return to Portugal to sign off on the new constitution, forcing him to leave Brazil in 1821. However, he left his son, Dom Pedro I, in Brazil as the prince regent.

Brazil Rebels

Once King Dom João VI returned to Portugal, he was caught between multiple rival factions he did not have strong control over, including his own son (Pedro’s brother) and wife. Portugal began making reforms, many designed to turn Brazil back into a colony instead of a co-equal kingdom. Brazil was upset by this attempt at downgrading their status, and furthermore, the Cortes (the Portuguese parliament) repeatedly demanded that Pedro I return to Portugal.

In 1822, Pedro I, seeing no other path towards Brazilian autonomy, declared independence with the Cry of Ipiranga, when he shouted: “Independência ou Morte!” (Independence or Death). Pedro I coordinated this rebellion alongside Brazilian elites who supported him becoming the Emperor of Brazil, leading the country as a centralized figure.

Armed conflict broke out almost immediately with rebel forces attacking loyalist cities, like Salvador. Fighting lasted from 1822 to 1824 with jungle campaigns, naval campaigns, and urban campaigns. The Portuguese did not put in as much effort into retaking Brazil compared to their Spanish counterparts. And so, in 1825, Portugal recognized Brazilian independence with Pedro I as emperor.

Brazil Remains Whole

Brazil remained whole while Spanish America was completely shattered. Furthermore, Brazil only had to fight for a couple of years while Spanish America fought for decades. Brazil’s success comes down to four broad reasons.

First, Pedro, I was able to legitimize his authority. Brazil was not treated as a backwater region of a colonial empire used only for resource extraction. When the royal family and court moved to Brazil, it became the heart of the empire. Investment rolled into the colony, creating new schools, roads, infrastructure, and dozens of other improvements that allowed for the quality of life in at least some parts of Brazil to be comparable to that of Europe.

Furthermore, the opening of trade with other parts of the world, the further reduction of regulations, and the elevation into a kingdom made Brazilians feel a greater sense of loyalty to the Portuguese. While the Spanish were seen as tyrants by the people of the Americas, the Portuguese were seen in a much better light by not only the people but the Brazilian elites as well.

Second was the centralization of authority. Brazil was run largely as a single colony, unlike the Spanish Empire, which was broken up into four viceroyalties. This allowed all parts of the colony to be on the same page. Essentially, Brazil already had a centralized government with a central commanding figure at the top: Pedro I. Unlike the Spanish Americans, the Brazilians did not have to replace an already existing governmental structure and create an entirely new one; they just had to sever a single thread of contact with Portugal.

Third was geography. The regions of Spanish America were separated from each other by up to almost 5,000 miles in some cases, while Brazil’s regions are separated by at most a little more than half of that. Furthermore, a large part of Brazil is much more easily accessible to other parts due to the lack of geographical boundaries. Brazil has some of the densest jungles in the world, but those jungles weren’t barriers blocking contact from one major part of the empire to another.

Fourth was the level of blowback. Brazil fought a much quicker and easier war than Spanish America had to. This can be attributed to factors such as Portugal having a smaller military than Spain. The Portuguese Empire was politically and economically headed by Brazil instead of by Portugal for more than a decade, strengthening the Brazilian position over the Portuguese, at least for a time. Multiple regions of Spanish America remained loyalist, which gave the Spanish footholds to stage troops and prepare offensives. But in Brazil, virtually the entire colony rebelled, not giving the Portuguese any way to stage a counterattack.

When Brazil formally entered the Second World War in 1942, it was a very unexpected decision. President Getúlio Vargas was an autocratic strongman with close ties to all the major Axis powers. Brazil seemingly had no real reason to enter the war and its territory was not violated by any Axis member state. Nonetheless, it would become the Latin American country with the strongest commitment to the Allies during the war by protecting Allied shipping in the South Atlantic. Its involvement shaped its politics for decades to come.

Brazil Before WWII

During the 1930s, Brazil underwent some of the biggest political and social changes in that country’s history since its independence from Portugal in 1822. The country had faced major instability as a result of power struggles between military and civilian authorities. This was exacerbated by the onset of the Great Depression. Brazil’s government struggled to head off the shockwaves of the global economic downturn. The shock may have been even worse if Brazil had not burned off much of its coffee stocks. This led to political turmoil, giving Getúlio Vargas a chance to take power into his own hands.

When President Washington Luís Pereira de Sousa began cracking down on his opponents, Vargas launched a rebellion against him. Fearing that the country would collapse into chaos, the military overthrew Luís’ and temporarily ruled the country for several days. On October 30, this junta named Vargas the acting president, and he was formally sworn in in early November. He promised to end the chaos in the country and rejuvenate the Brazilian economy.

For the rest of the 1930s, Brazil faced additional political instability from both communist and fascist movements. Vargas did not want his power to be infringed upon and declared a state of emergency. This led to him banning opposition parties, cracking down on dissidents, and creating a new constitution. His political project was known as the Estado Novo and existed until 1945. As Brazil faced major changes to its political institutions, WWII arrived on its doorstep.

Axis Attacks on Brazilian Shipping, 1939-1942

When the war started in September 1939, Vargas vowed to remain neutral. He admired the political systems in Germany, Italy, and Japan and did not want to jeopardize the extensive trade Brazil had with each of those countries. At the same time, Brazil had a close relationship with the United States, and President Roosevelt hoped to preserve that relationship. This meant that Brazil faced a quandary: should it join the Axis alliance when its largest military partner was sympathetic to the Allies?

Germany and Italy resolved that problem for Vargas’s government. In a repeat of the strategy pursued in WWI, Germany began a campaign of unrestricted submarine warfare to prevent supplies from reaching Britain via the Atlantic. This meant that Brazilian ships started to be targeted. The distance between Allied bases in West Africa and Brazil was a short one and its routes were patrolled by Allied aircraft and warships. The British government hoped to get Brazil to agree to patrol its waters and protect the Allied merchantmen that sailed there.

By August 1942, Brazilian ships were repeatedly attacked by German and Italian submarines. Some 15 ships were sunk and many crewmen were killed or wounded by these attacks. Notwithstanding Germany’s previously cordial relations with Brazil, the German U-Boat Command ordered any vessel entering Brazilian waters except from Argentina and Chile to be attacked. The attack on Pearl Harbor meant that the US was involved and other countries in Latin America were now being pressured to help the Allies. Vargas now realized that his country’s entry into the war was a matter of time.

Brazil’s Entry Into the War and Initial Decisions

The attacks by Axis submarines on Brazilian merchant shipping enraged Brazilians, who up to this point had been ambivalent about the war in general. There were riots targeting people of ethnic heritage of any Axis country, especially German-Brazilians. The military was enraged that Brazil’s sovereignty was being violated and insisted on a forceful response. The increased involvement of the US Navy and Coast Guard in anti-submarine warfare off the Brazilian coast meant that Brazil was involved in supplying Allied ships.

Vargas was still reluctant to enter the war because of Brazil’s economy and his fear of civil unrest. However, when it became clear that the public wanted to enter the war, he decided to finally join the Allied war effort. On August 21, 1942, Brazil formally declared war against Germany and Italy. While it cut ties with Japan and arrested Japanese sympathizers, it never formally declared war against Tokyo. Brazil had already cut ties with the Axis powers during the Rio Conference after the Pearl Harbor attacks. Despite his initial reluctance and resignation attempts by some senior officials, Vargas was now all in for an Allied victory.

The Allies were thrilled to have Brazil’s involvement in the war effort. The Brazilian Navy could now assist in patrolling Atlantic convoy routes. Additionally, Brazilian ground forces could join the fight in Europe. The United States provided a massive amount of military aid to ensure that Brazil’s military was prepared for battle. Additionally, Washington financed the creation of a steel mill at Volta Redonda.

The Brazilian Navy’s Hunt for Submarines

Following its entry into the war, Brazil became a big player in the Battle of the Atlantic. While Brazil’s navy was weak by WWII standards and its ships lacked much of the equipment they needed to hunt down and sink German and Italian submarines, Brazil worked closely with the American and British navies to form convoys with escort vessels and aircraft to protect Allied shipping in the Atlantic Ocean. In 1939, it had a mere 19 vessels that were seaworthy; this increased during the war as a result of American military aid. Brazil’s available surface ships were placed under the control of the US Navy’s 4th Fleet. The fleet was aggressive and repeatedly attacked German submarines, although it remains unclear if it successfully sank any.

Brazil’s air force also performed yeoman service. American aid ensured that Brazilian pilots flew top-model aircraft with advanced detection systems. Working with American squadrons from several airfields along the coastline, they managed to drive off Axis attempts to get close to major ports. Twelve Axis submarines were sunk thanks to air attack. Due to an increase in submarine losses, Germany and Italy abandoned their attacks on shipping off the Brazilian coast in late 1943, apart from smaller attacks later on. Brazil successfully protected 3,167 ships in 614 convoys during the war.

The Brazilian Expeditionary Force in Italy

Soldiers from the Brazilian Expeditionary Force in Italy, 1944. Source: National Archives of Brazil

President Vargas promised the Allies that the Brazilian military would join the fight in Europe. After Brazil’s entry into the war, the Brazilian Ministry of Defense created an expeditionary force. Preparations were slow, and the Brazilian public began to say that “it’s more likely for a snake to smoke than for the BEF to go and fight.”

Instead of Vargas’s intention of fielding a corps of 100,000 men, the Brazilian Expeditionary Force ended up being a division of 25,000 men, made up of the 1st, 6th, and 11th Infantry Regiments, the 9th Engineer Battalion, and the 2nd Mechanized Regiment. The soldiers enjoyed the joke and subsequently wore shoulder badges featuring smoking snakes.

After being supplied with American weapons and going through an American training regime, the Smoking Snakes went to Italy with the American 10th Mountain Division and arrived in July 1944 to join the US 5th Army.

Major General João Mascarenhas commanded the BEF upon its arrival in Naples. By this point, the Allies had advanced north of Rome after breaking the German lines. The redeployment of several Allied infantry divisions from Italy to support the invasion of France meant that the Brazilians were welcomed warmly. Despite initially struggling to acclimatize to the weather, Brazilian forces entered the fighting quickly. After seizing the towns of Camaiore and Monte Prano, the BEF moved into the Serchio Valley with other Allied divisions like the 10th Mountain. They held their positions there with a single regiment for several months against German counterattacks.

As part of a major assault on the German’s Gothic Line in northern Italy, the BEF was ordered to assault Monte Castello, a major German position on the Allied left flank. The division was stretched thin and struggled to advance. In just over a day in December 1944, they lost 1,000 men attacking Castello. For the winter, they remained in place until they could advance again in better weather.

The End of the War and Its Legacy in Brazil

In the last spring of the war, the Allies managed to break through the Gothic Line. The BEF seized the Castello and marched northward to accept the surrender of German forces on the border with France. After intense fighting and heavy casualties, Brazilian forces could share in the spoils of victory, and Allied commanders were pleased with their performance. However, they did not participate in the postwar occupation and demobilized immediately after returning to Brazil.

While the Brazilian public was happy with their successes, they did not receive much welcome from the state. The political instability that dominated society in the 1930s returned in 1945 when Vargas was overthrown in a coup. Veterans of the BEF did not receive adequate compensation or support from the state. They were not even allowed to march in public with their uniforms. Many became resentful and this played into the decision by the army to mount a coup in 1964, leading to Brazil’s infamous military regime. Only in recent years have their contributions been acknowledged.

While Brazil was not considered one of the major powers of the war and its contribution to the Allied war effort has largely been forgotten, the Brazilian army, navy, and airforce played their part in aiding Allied convoys and supporting the war effort in Italy. Close to 2,000 Brazilian combatants and civilians died during the war. Of all the Latin American countries involved in the war, Brazil provided the greatest amount of support. It earned itself a place with the other victors of the war.