Indigenous Movements Research Articles

Tempest in the Andes? Part 1: Agrarian Reform and Peasant Differentiation in Cotopaxi (Ecuador)

This paper, published in two parts, contains an analysis of the links between the ‘agrarian question’ in the Ecuadorian Andes and the creation of a network of indigenous‐peasant organizations that became the backbone of the national indigenous movement. Based on a monographic study in the province of Cotopaxi, in Ecuador's central sierra, I explore the relations between agrarian and social change. I analyse the agrarian roots of Andean ethnic platforms at the local level, attempting to see how those processes that politicized ethnicity came about between the 1960s and the first decade of the twenty‐first century. Beginning with the redistributive results of the state‐driven agrarian reform (1964–73), the paper demonstrates that the articulation of the contemporary indigenous movement cannot be explained without an understanding of the implications that the reform process entailed and the synergies it unleashed, amongst these being an increase in the internal differentiation of the peasantry until then subject to the power of large estate owners. Throughout this process, the leaders, authentic organic intellectuals, played a fundamental role, picking up the reins of the organizations, weaving their own political discourse and becoming independent of their external allies. In a second stage, the NGOs and cooperation agencies that focused their attention on the indigenous world made organizational strengthening a banner of their work on the ground, consolidating that structural transformation. In this paper, I explore the deep roots of the agrarian system's political economy in order to come to a full understanding of the social differentiation process and the ethnicization of the peasant movement. This contributes towards the comparative reflection of other scenarios in the Andean region and, in general, of those Latin American spaces characterized by the presence of significant contingents of indigenous‐peasant populations.

El discurso político indígena en América Latina

This paper attempts to make a meticulous analysis of the political messages constructed by some prominent indigenous movements in LatinAmerica. In order to do so, the author chose the theoretical framework called frame analysis —an analytical category originated by Goffman’s symbolic interactionism— which today is regarded as a central element in the identity formation of social actors and their “social performance”. The systematization of certain significant ideas that shape the indigenous ideological matrix into several “frameworks of interpretation” is performed by these social subjects with the purpose of projecting unto others an image that generates certain impressions in their audience and defines a set of problems, their causes, their solutions and the adversaries. The “political success” of their proposals and political program depends on the resonance that these “frameworks” can achieve with different internal and external audiences.

History, Memory, and Utopia in the Missionaries' Creation of the Indigenous Movement in Brazil (1967–1988)

On April 17, 1974, and die two days following, a gathering of 16 indigenous participants from nine different indigenous societies was held in Diamantino, Mato Grosso, Brazil. During the three days, vernacular narratives, trivial announcements, and critiques of the government and local ranchers were presented—without any of the participants significantly engaging with one another. Only one primary source on this event, a short, typed document, is available today. The historicity of this “Assembly of Indigenous Chiefs” is granted by both the anthropological and the historical situations of the participating communities. For the first time, individuals from indigenous societies that did not share ethnic borders or history met to advance indigenous rights; for the first time also, these individuals were granted political representation (of their groups), a notion largely foreign to indigenous political traditions. There was a conscious effort to draw chiefs from as many communities as possible and to establish a large, pan-Indian movement.

History, Memory, and Utopia in the Missionaries' Creation of the Indigenous Movement in Brazil (1967–1988)

On April 17, 1974, and die two days following, a gathering of 16 indigenous participants from nine different indigenous societies was held in Diamantino, Mato Grosso, Brazil. During the three days, vernacular narratives, trivial announcements, and critiques of the government and local ranchers were presented—without any of the participants significantly engaging with one another. Only one primary source on this event, a short, typed document, is available today. The historicity of this “Assembly of Indigenous Chiefs” is granted by both the anthropological and the historical situations of the participating communities. For the first time, individuals from indigenous societies that did not share ethnic borders or history met to advance indigenous rights; for the first time also, these individuals were granted political representation (of their groups), a notion largely foreign to indigenous political traditions. There was a conscious effort to draw chiefs from as many communities as possible and to establish a large, pan-Indian movement.

Why Interculturalidad is not Interculturality

Interculturality is a notion that has come to dominate the debate on cultural diversity among supranational bodies such as the European Union (EU) and the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) in recent years. The EU goes so far as to identify interculturality as a key cultural and linguistic characteristic of a union which, it argues, acts as an inspiration to other parts of the world. At the same time, the very notion of interculturality is a core component of indigenous movements in the Andean region of Latin America in their struggles for decolonization. Every bit as contingent as any other concept, it is apparent that several translations of interculturality are simultaneously in play. Through interviews with students and teachers in a course on interculturality run by indigenous alliances, my aim in this essay is to study how the notion is translated in the sociopolitical context of the Andes. With reference points drawn from the works of Walter Mignolo and the concept of delinking, I will engage in a discussion about the potential for interculturality to break out of the prison-house of colonial vocabulary – modernization, progress and salvation – that lingers on in official memory. Engagement in such an interchange of experiences, memories and significations provides not only recognition of other forms of subjectivity, knowledge systems and visions of the future, but also a possible contribution to an understanding of how any attempt to invoke a universal reach for interculturality, as in the case of the EU and UNESCO, risks echoing the imperial order that the notion in another context attempts to overcome.

Runa soncco: Manuel Núñez Butron y su proyecto de educación sanitaria

Runa soncco, a Quechua term for "Indian heart", is the title of a magazine published between 1935 and 1948, which articles reveal the intention to integrate the Andean culture with Western public health on-site. It also turned into a key tool for the dissemination of the sanitation and education message and the indigenous movement led by Dr. Manuel Núñez Butrón, one of the first experiences in promotional preventive care in Peru and in the world - a pioneer of what four decades later would be called "primary health care".

Latin American Social Movements and a New Left Consensus: State and Civil Society Challenges to Neoliberal Globalization

This article explores the shift to the left in Latin America within the context of understanding power relations among, within, and between social movements and the state. We examine the emergence and development of social movement resistance to neoliberal globalization in Latin America over the past two decades, as well as how charismatic leaders of the left have captured state power. Through an analysis of the Zapatista and Appista Movements in Mexico, the Piqueteros and workers' movements in Argentina, the Chavistas in Venezuela, and the Aymara coca-growers and indigenous movements in Bolivia, as well as an examination of presidential behavior and state power in these countries, this article describes and enumerates the alternative models of power in use in Latin America today, arguing that a combination of strategies working both with and autonomously from the state works best to achieve leftist ends. The social movements associated with the shift to the left in Latin America today are adopting not one but a combination of approaches or meshworks in relation to the state and capital, and they seem to fall within two general patterns: (1) reformist and autonomous approaches toward the state and capital (Zapatistas and Appistas in Mexico and Piqueteros and workers' movements in Argentina); (2) autonomous and evolutionary approaches toward the state and capital (Aymara Nation in Bolivia and Chavismo in Venezuela). This article is an interpretative analysis of the dialectical relationship between social movement and state power in Latin America using examples from six movements in four countries which help us to elucidate the models of power we see emerging. We conclude that controlling state power and working autonomously from the state, in tandem, is the most effective strategy to achieve leftist ends.

Justice in whose eyes? Why lawyers should read black Australian literature

This article presents a challenge to legal scholars to engage with Indigenous literature. Because such literature is closely aligned to Indigenous movements, it is a rich source of information in relation to what Indigenous people believe is necessary for them to receive redress for the injuries of colonisation. Such engagement grounds the conclusion that litigation is rarely an end in itself, but rather one part of an enduring struggle for the transformation of relationships between Indigenous people and the state. Platforms written by Indigenous people are holistic and, in spite of diversity over time, they usually include at least three elements – the realisation of self-determination, the creation of a land base, and compensation for dispossession. Critical race theory provides a theoretical foundation for the incorporation of such platforms into legal scholarship. By engaging with Indigenous literature, legal scholars will be exposed to the shortcomings of the native title recognition process, and devise new frameworks that will support Indigenous self-determination.

Leading a Good Life: The White Earth Anishinaabeg in Transitional Times

Commentary

International Norms and National Indigenous Politics: Mapuche Demands for Territory in Chile

Indigenous movements have increasingly turned to the global arena to achieve their political goals at the national level. Using the norm diffusion model, the present article analyzes the relationship between the international indigenous rights regime (IRR) and the conceptualizations of indigenous territory used by four Mapuche organizations in Chile over the last 10 years. We find that the organizations draw on the IRR to frame their demand for autonomous territories based on historical Mapuche practices. We identify two conceptualizations: (1) a larger territory with political but not economic autonomy and (2) a smaller natural-cultural space characterized by a distinctive economic logic.

Entre el movimiento y el partido político: los movimientos indígenas en Bolivia y Ecuador

This paper analyzes the link between the logic of social movement and that of a political party in the case of indigenous movements in Bolivia and Ecuador. Specifically, it sought to explain why a movement capable of organizing plenty of protests, like the Ecuadorian, was unable to succeed in the electoral arena during the important 2007 elections to the Ecuadorian Constituent Assembly, while the fragmented Bolivian movements achieved some success by participating in a similar electoral scenario. The author argues that the relative success of Bolivia’s indigenous movements in the electoral arena was due to a greater ability of these groups to translate the support and strength originated in the field of social protest into the realm of institutional politics, and to combine institutional and non-institutional repertoires.

Tribal nations, transnational Indigenous movements, and D'Arcy McNickle

Indigenous activism faces the compelling dilemma of how to manage the relationship between the strength of polities defined around distinct tribal identities and building pan-tribal and increasingly transnational Indigenous coalitions. Resembling their Native North American nationalist counterparts, many Latin American Indigenous communities call for the autonomy and self-determination of what I call tribal nations. Yet the inspiration and the strategies for this demand for tribal nationhood are often transnational in origin. Discussing the work of Indigenous activists throughout the Americas, this article examines how tribal nations are conceptualized in contemporary Native politics. Lastly, it investigates how the dynamics of specific tribal identities and the need to organize across tribal differences informed the work of the Native writer and public intellectual D'Arcy McNickle.

Producing and Circulating Kichwa Community in Intercultural Ecuador

PRODUCING AND CIRCULATING KICHWA COMMUNITY IN INTERCULTURAL ECUADOR John Stolle-McAllister University of Maryland, Baltimore County (UMBC) Over the past thirty years, Ecuador’s Indigenous movement has made remarkable advances in winning rights and recognition for Indigenous peoples, and positioning themselves as important players in national politics . Mobilizing discourses of community, as both ideological and organizational strategies, has been a key to that success. While historically community has been connected to well-defined geographic territories and cultural practices, in recent years those seemingly immutable entities have faced serious challenges. Economic, political and cultural changes from the outside world coupled with the movement’s success in bringing uneven social mobility and increased public participation with the country’s majority White-Mestizo population have contributed to substantial restructuring of what it means to be a community. In this article, I argue that Kichwa1 activists and community members in the northern highland areas of Otavalo, Cotacachi and Cayambe produce their communities, by constructing political, economic, educational and communicational relationships that incorporate the drastically changing social and economic structures in which they find themselves. Community is not a predetermined social fact, nor is it an ideal abstraction, but rather it is a continuous process of discursive production and circulation. Kichwa political actors and organizations have opted for different community strategies that reflect reflect the material realities and the political possibilities of each organization and each project. Each in its own way, however, represents attempts to connect past and future, that is to build on ancestral practices and knowledge, while at the same time enacting a community that accounts for demographic changes, class differentiation and national and global integration. The production of community becomes increasingly complicated as political leaders and activists often deploy an essentialized notion of community to promote a unified front in confrontations with the state and dominant white-mestizo society. The reality of community is, and always has been, much more complicated. In everyday interactions, community often still refers to rural, geographic locations in which extended networks of families live and work, but as the Indigenous movement creates more spaces for participation and has increased the physical and economic mobility of some of its members, community takes on a more abstract, idealized meaning as well. These articulations of community are increasingly intercultural endeavors in that although they C 2012 Southeastern Council on Latin American Studies and Wiley Periodicals, Inc. 29 The Latin Americanist, September 2013 are distinctly Kichwa, they are developing in explicit relationships with multiple other cultural groups. The four examples that I examine in this essay represent different attemptstodefineandconstruct communityincontemporarycircumstances, as well as the pitfalls to the notion of community itself that many organizations encounter. The municipalities of Otavalo and Cotacachi, for example , have elected Kichwa mayors and Indigenous organizations are highly influential in municipal politics. From positions controlling the formal institutions of power, they have enacted inclusive policies that build on the municipality’s intercultural makeup. At the same time, however, political conflicts between Indigenous organizations highlight the difficulty of actually speaking for a community. In Cotacachi, the Union of Peasant Organizations of Cotacachi (Unión de Organizaciones Campesinas de Cotacachi–UNORCAC), has a long history of fostering local, integrated development that seeks to find economic support for local communities by building on ethnic knowledge and practices, while seeking economic sustainability. The Confederation of the Kayambi People (Confederación del Pueblo Kayambi), works to help its member communities strengthen their identities and work toward economic development in particular through an education project designed to allow young Kayambi adults to find productive work without abandoning their local relationships and practices . The last project I examine is the website, otavalosonline.com, which represents a different type of community building corresponding to the transnational dispersion of many Otavalos. While the notion of belonging to a group with historic continuity is clearly an important part of the community discourse being circulated by these media activists, they are also producing a community that is not completely dependent on that past by posing the question of what it means to be a member of the Otavalo “community,” when one does not physically live within the physical confines of the community. In all of these cases...

The War on Heresy by R. I. Moore (review)

Reviewed by: The War on Heresy by R. I. Moore Claire Taylor The War on Heresy. By R. I. Moore. Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2012. 416 pp. $35.00 (cloth and e-book). R. I. Moore has made some of the most significant contributions to our knowledge of religious heresy in Western Europe in the Middle [End Page 681] Ages. His two most influential works, The Origins of European Dissent and The Formation of a Persecuting Society, reject the idea that the suppression of religious dissent from circa 1000 c.e. was a spontaneous response of faith communities to deviant religiosity or confessional diversity.1 He established a connection between the rise of secular bureaucracies in the High Middle Ages and the legitimization of rulers as defenders of the Church from its “enemies.” Although he moderated his position slightly in the second edition of Formation, the suppression of heresy was a “top-down” process. As a result, Moore reads the early evidence for heresy as politically rather than doctrinally positioned. It is constructed in the first instance. Wherever they looked for it, powerful people “found” “heresy” of the worst kinds. This included a supposed revival of ancient Manichaeism, a “dualist” heresy, positing the existence of two gods: one good, who created souls and other “invisible things,” and one evil, who created physical things, including human bodies, in which he imprisoned human souls. The followers of Mani were in fact long extinct, but in Moore’s schema the tenets of the heresy formed the basis of accusations against people who, until the 1140s at least, were in fact religious reformers consciously preaching a simpler form of Christianity closer to that practiced by the apostles. This indigenous movement arose from dissatisfaction not only with the wealth of the clergy, but also with the creeping encroachment of the medieval Church into every aspect of Christian life, which Moore explored further in The First European Revolution.2 Thus Moore’s work not only places heresy within its sociopolitical context but also has shown that context to be causal of phenomena noted by the sources. For many scholars, before the emergence in the West in circa 1140 of a more certainly Greek-influenced dualist heresy, known to a few medieval people and the majority of historians as “Catharism,” “heretics” were in the main radical and idealistic Christians, pushing too far and too fast for reform. It is primarily Moore who was responsible for this differentiation between “heretical” movements of circa 1000 to circa 1100 c.e., and those post–circa 1140 c.e. Now, in The War on Heresy, Moore now seeks to undermine “Catharism” itself as a fiction of the sources. He repositions the sect as he [End Page 682] has done with the simple, pious people labeled heretics in the previous century: as a doctrinally orthodox but anti-clerical spiritual elite amongst the laity. In all, he asserts, “the traditional story of how ‘medieval heresy’ in which ‘the Cathars’ played a starring role is now authoritatively challenged at almost every point … No attempt has yet been made to retell as a whole the story of the emergence and growth of heresy and accusations of heresy in the eleventh and twelfth century Europe in the light of new and often radically different understanding of the sources … To do so is the aim of this book” (p. 333). In short, he wishes to “clear away the luxuriant growth of falsehood” concerning “Catharism” (p. 10). To coin a phrase from a French school of thought influencing Moore, the medieval elite “invented” even “Catharism.”3 This is a bold assertion. If Moore is correct, The War on Heresy is the revolution that nonspecialist reviewers and readers have hailed it. Scholars with their careers invested in the study of “real” Catharism will be threatened by Moore’s latest conclusions and will have to grapple with them given his track record. Having said this, and as someone very much with a vested interest, I was surprised to find little here to challenge the orthodoxy concerning “Catharism.” This is essentially because of weaknesses in methodology that are wholly untypical of this historian. One major mistake underlines...

Let's Save Humanity from Extinction

Translated by Teo Ballve This essay is aimed at clarifying for revolutionaries in the core countries of the capitalist system the importance of indigenous movements and their leading role in the an...

Transcending the Coloniality of Development

At this particular historical conjuncture, human-made crises—from ecological disasters such as the BP oil spill or the Fukushima nuclear accident, to food shortages and national economic calamities—have rightly gained attention, and the prospect of real limits to consumption seem ever present on the horizon. According to David Harvey, such “[c]rises are moments of paradox and possibility out of which all manner of alternatives . . . can spring.” It is these moments, or encounters, of paradox and possibility that I address in this article. I specifically consider novel ecological political articulations that have emerged out of indigenous movements that unmask the material foundations of world history and demonstrate cracks in a dominant ideology that commoditizes all matter—living and otherwise.

Long Live Atahualpa: Indigenous Politics, Justice, and Democracy in the Northern Andes

Emma Cervone’s Long Live Atahualpa contributes to the scholarly trend of examining Ecuadorian indigenous political activism from the perspective of grassroots organizations rather than only via national indigenous leaders. Also important is Cervone’s focus on activism in the central highland civil parish of Tixán, Chimborazo, rather than on the better-known cases in the northern highlands of Ecuador. Cervone asserts that examining national events from a local perspective “works at the frontier of culture, identity, and power to explore the meanings generated in the everyday by the people who resist domination” (p. 19).The focus on Tixán and Cervone’s many years in residence there provide a richly detailed discussion of indigenous versus nonindigenous perceptions of the rise of the Inca Atahualpa organization in the region. She shows, for example, how the context of national indigenous uprisings emboldened local indigenous peoples to act on their grievances (particularly over land) and how the rise of the indianada made nonindigenous tixaneños both resentful of indigenous actions and afraid to counter them. Moreover, her discussion of local indigenous politics considers not only the big moments of overt confrontation but also the resistances offered through daily interactions, particularly the ways in which indigenous peoples often ignored abusive demands rather than submitting to them. It was out of this particular convergence of local and national politics that the Inca Atahualpa organization came to serve as an alternative justice system in Tixán (p. 171), holding meetings on Sundays to hear disputes between indigenous peoples and to mete out justice, including punishments for those found guilty.Perhaps the best discussion of the overlapping issues of identity, politics, and inter-ethnic interactions in Tixán can be found in chapter 6, “Celebrating Diversity,” in which Cervone scrutinizes the “festival of the Quichuas” held in Tixán around the summer solstice in June. The celebrations date back to the days in which hacienda owners presided over harvest festivals, but in the aftermath of the 1960s agrarian reform, indigenous peoples gradually took over the planning and oversight of the festival, which became an indigenous event located in the white-mestizo town center of Tixán. It was symbolically, culturally, and politically crucial as an event that developed alongside rising political activism. Eventually, the festival became more inclusive of nonindigenous as well as indigenous peoples. Cervone offers a particularly fine discussion in this chapter of the variety of ways that indigenous peoples used clothing to highlight distinct parts of their identities at different times. In this chapter, theory and detail, collective and individual experiences, and indigenous and nonindigenous views all blend seamlessly for a powerful and fascinating look at a well-known yearly event.Other chapters do not blend theory and detail or description and analysis nearly as well. Cervone offers interesting quotes and descriptions throughout the monograph, but these are typically separated from theoretical discussions, and the connections between the two are often not well developed. Moreover, despite Cervone’s emphasis on doing “politically engaged” anthropology by collaborating with the indigenous group she studied (p. 31), she makes only brief references to things like organizing workshops in Tixán. This was a missed opportunity to explore the significance of anthropological engagement along the lines set out by Maximilian Viatori in One State, Many Nations: Indigenous Rights Struggles in Ecuador (2009), in which he discusses his political involvements with the Amazonian community that he studied.Cervone is at her best when discussing the rising political power of both the Inca Atahualpa organization and the broader Ecuadorian indigenous movement in the 1990s. Her discussion of events from 2000 forward offers a useful summary of scholarly studies on national developments, but her references to local activities are brief in contrast to her richly textured and specific discussions of the Inca Atahualpa movement in the 1990s. More problematic is her discussion of the earlier twentieth century: she often takes indigenous peoples’ memories of the hacienda system as fact rather than analyzing them in light of the context in which they were made. Furthermore, she does not take full advantage of some of the available scholarship on the preagrarian reform decades, such as Marc Becker’s groundbreaking study of Indian-state relations in the early to mid-twentieth century, Indians and Leftists in the Making of Ecuador’s Modern Indigenous Movements (2008), which, while included in her bibliography, is underutilized. Similarly, although she often mentions haciendas in Chimborazo and the problem of respect for indigenous peoples, she never references the important work of fellow anthropologist Barry Lyons on these subjects, Remembering the Hacienda: Religion, Authority, and Social Change in Highland Ecuador (2006).Even with these limitations, Long Live Atahualpa is a solid book that will be of interest to scholars who focus on the complex issues of indigenous identity and politics, particularly with regard to local versus national experiences of political change both in Ecuador and in Latin America more generally.

Chachawarmi: Rhetorics and Lived Realities

Latin America's turn away from neoliberalism and adoption of decolonising alternatives to development has been spearheaded—nowhere more so than Bolivia—by indigenous movements. The gender ideology of chachawarmi is part of this decolonisation programme, but has been criticised for disguising gendered exploitation. These tensions are explored by looking at, in Escobar's words, ‘the concrete struggles within particular communities’. Based on long‐term research in rural Bolivia, this article situates the chachawarmi ideal in the multiple influences on the recreation of gender identities, and considers the complex ways in which chachawarmi as mobilised politically may influence gendered power.

Reinventing the Lefts in Latin America

The Venezuelan popular educator and activist Joel Linares tells us, in Pablo Navarrete’s 2009 film Inside the Revolution, that “one morning in Guarenas, behind the mountains [on the outskirts of Caracas], at 5 a.m. on February 27, 1989, a woman tried to get on the bus. When she refused to pay the new bus fare, the driver pushed her. When the driver pushed her, that was the beginning of everything. . . . The other passengers . . . got up from their seats and attacked the bus with sticks and then turned it upside down and burned it.” The popular uprising known as the Caracazo that emerged from this event turned isolated acts of resistance into mass rebellion and challenged “normal” politics. Those who had been silenced by the elite pact of developmentalism and its descent into neoliberalism began to speak as political subjects. The Caracazo marked the beginning of a new era of popular struggle in Venezuela and, arguably, across Latin America. As Mendieta (2008: xii) argues, the ideological prophets and political architects of neoliberalism sought to create an age of “the abolition of politics.” This “antipolitics” was primarily an effort to disarticulate, delegitimize, and criminalize popular-class political horizons and imaginaries, projects, subjectivities, moral economies,1 and ways of life. The embodied and visceral rupture of the Caracazo signaled the emergence of cracks in neoliberal elites’ ability to speak for Latin America’s popular classes. The fault lines in this project of antipolitics deepened in the following decade and eventually resulted in the election to power of various governments falling under the broad rubric of the “pink tide,” including those of Luiz Ignacio (Lula) da Silva of the Workers’ Party in Brazil, Hugo Chavez in Venezuela, and Evo Morales in Bolivia, and the development of social-movement and community struggles—the recovered-factories movement in Argentina, the Movimento Sem Terra (Landless Rural Workers’ Movement—MST) in Brazil, the water movements in Uruguay, the indigenous movements in Ecuador and Bolivia, the urban land committees in Venezuela, 489665LAPXXX10.1177/0094582X13489665LATIN AMERICAN PERSPECTIVESMotta 2013

Peace stillborn? Guatemala's liberal peace and the indigenous movement

This article analyses the relationship between Guatemala's protracted internationally sponsored peace process (1987–96) and the country's indigenous movement. The impact of the peace process and its emancipatory potential was ultimately limited by the intransigence of triumphalist national military, economic and political elites and the acute limitations imposed by the liberal peace framework in the aftermath of the United Nations' Agenda for Peace. Negotiations did not respond adequately to the underlying structural causes of armed conflict, nor did they represent or incorporate sufficiently the historical demands and cultural focus of Guatemala's majority indigenous population, undergirded as they were by a restricted rights framework that coincided with the liberal peace parameters. Indigenous actors nevertheless took advantage of the embedded liberal peace and the political space it afforded, developing hybrid political forms to make visible their historical demands and establish an incipient peace infrastructure.