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Position Papers Cross-Genealogies in Latin American and South Asian Subaltern Studies Ileana Rodrguez
The question of cross-genealogies, which was the theme of the Fifth Latin American Subaltern Studies Conference organized by Duke University, begs a definition of the term genealogy. The Oxford English Dictionary defines genealogy as origins, lineage, ancestry, progeny, and pedigree. Situated within the semantic field of the copula, the term generates a series of questions that transcend disciplinary and cultural boundaries. As a metaphor for the production of knowledges and cultures, it brings to mind the rift between legitimacy and illegitimacy as much as it establishes all kinds of hierarchies in the status of their production. Cross-genealogies as the copula puts us up against the notion of bastard fields, orphans, and outcasts, as well as bringing with it all the aspects of the hybrid introduced by the hyphen. Despite these two points of disturbance the term introduces, cross-genealogies can be used to discuss the impact of subaltern experiences and agency on the production of elite knowledges. It is in this sense that I will be using the term in this essay. In line with this idea of knowledge as a product of the copula, I wish to address three propositions that will enable me to discuss the relevance of cross-genealogies to subaltern studies. The first proposition is to decenter the metaphor of the copula, which ties knowledge production to the mandates of the natural sciences based on the principles of social Darwinism, and replace it with the notion of genderin other words, to denaturalize the fields of knowledge and discuss their production as disciplines and scholarship, field competence, the formation of esprit de corps, productivities, and hegemonies.1 The second proposition is to use the [End Page 45] metaphor of the copula to show that counterpoetics and subaltern studies are bastard fields that only produce a type of pseudoknowledgefiction, an anthropological type of culture at best, rather than science or philosophy. 2 The corpus of this pseudoknowledge, which comes from the collective wisdom expressed in songs, dances, speech, and sketches, either lacks a bibliographical genealogy honored by history, or is endowed with adverse (colonial/imperial/global) bibliographies. The third proposition concerns the notion of local knowledge. 3 Essentially, local knowledge is nothing less than the power to produce and reproduce localities, reliable local subjects, and neighborhoods, which in turn translate into the possibility of creating and then of enriching a genealogy. These three propositions clearly illustrate the attempts of inclusion (or the idea of crossing, or grafting, as in the hybrid) of the subaltern, or subaltern knowledges into knowledge. In fact, if there is a point subaltern studies insists in making, it concerns rendering evident the contribution of subalterns to knowledge. One of the more productive avenues subaltern studies takes is to expose the paradoxes subaltern presence creates when subaltern experience and agency is bypassed or misinterpreted. Subaltern experiences have the power to obscure or render transparent certain areas of social interaction. This is particularly evident when the categories of knowledge become fluid. For instance, at the beginning of this century, the recomposition of societies created by modernization and the ensuing changes in the nomenclature of analysis destabilized the viewpoint of the elite. The population could no longer be neatly divided into workers and peasants. Both groups had been collapsed into the new, undetermined, and unruly category of the masses. A direct byproduct of this change in the composition of the socius was a disorientation of the social sciences. The consequence was the production of equivocal or paradoxical forms of knowledge born out of the exclusion of both a degendered subaltern and his/her desires and capacity for mobilization in the creation of his/her own local knowledge to produce his/her localities.4 Thus the paradoxes of knowledge spring from the overlooking of subaltern subjectivity and agency, or the conspicuous absence of what we are calling here crossgenealogies. I would argue that the paradoxes of knowledge even illustrate how subaltern experience and agency is nullified, misunderstood, or translated into what it is not, and therefore given the status of pseudo- or bastard knowledge without patrimonial status and legitimacy. One of the main problems we face at the end of the twentieth century is precisely the coming to terms with the paradoxes of this [End Page 46] elite, academic, or governmental type of knowledge production, one that is reluctant, unable, or unwilling to grasp the complex nature of the social disorganization. The flip side of this argument is that cross-genealogies make it possible to have the benefit of the social interaction and conflict as an organic whole. The benefit of cross-genealogies is first to become aware of the complexities of the reconfiguration of the subject of knowledge and to show how new categoriesgender, ethnicity, masses, people, subalternitydifferent accentuation and perspectives, and a different corpus make possible the shift from elite to subaltern studies or the possibilities of cross-genealogies. From Copula to Gender, Poetic to Counterpoetic, and Universal to Local Knowledge I now turn to analyze each of the three propositions mentioned earlier in order to entertain the possibilities of cross-genealogies, or subaltern studies, particularly in the intersection of the fields of history and culture. In order to take the discussion out of the semantic field established by the copula and use the category of gender to discuss the webs of meaning and relationships woven by disciplines and scholarship, I have chosen as my entry point chapter one of Hayden Whites book The Content of the Form (1987). This chapter explains how narrative becomes history. Whites main agenda is to explore the question of the value attached to narrativity itself in the representation of reality (24). To develop his argument, White distinguishes between three different forms of writing history: the annals, the chronicle, and history. The annals are a nonnarrative Rodrguez 1

Nepantla 1.1 (2000) representation of historical reality because in them there is the absence of an articulating consciousness or principle (subjectivity). In the annals, a vertical organization (mostly a chronology, or listing, of natural events) fails to acquire horizontal systematicity because it lacks the diacritical markers for ranking the importance of events (1987, 10). The annals lack a social center and organizing principle that will make their selection of disasters and disruptions not events in themselves (historia rerum gestarum) but events with agents (res gestae). The chronicle is an unfinished story marked by a failure to achieve narrative closure (5). And history, he concludes, is a finished story with a moral lesson. To illustrate the distinction between these three narrative forms, he uses two bibliographical corpora: medieval historiography and contemporary French theory. The first set serves him as material, the second as the scaffold to prop up his own theoretical propositions based on the difference between discourse (use of [End Page 47] first person) and narrative (use of third person, in Roland Barthess scheme) and the difference between genres established by Roman Jakobson, Emile Benveniste, Jean Genette, Tzvetan Todorov, and Jacques Lacan, among others. Consciousness here makes all the difference between history and nonhistory, but whose consciousness are we talking about? Not that of women, nor that of the illiterate, for certain. And I believe this is Whites pointto demonstrate that oral history is discounted from the very beginning. Mine is to show there are no crossgenealogies here because the three propositions outlined abovegender, ethnicity, and localityare absent. The genealogy of historical knowledge as copula is here metaphorically predicated as a male-male copula. White shows here how knowledge is gendered male, colored white, and localized in Europe. These are the three paradigmatic positions of elite knowledge, right? Yet in Whites piece a second distinction leads us in the direction of counterpoetics: Hegels distinction between pseudoknowledge and true knowledge. According to Hegel, pseudoknowledge is based on feelings more than on reason, on family rather than the state, and hence is constituted within the environments of primordialism or the primitive. I will come back to this concept. In contrast, in his discussion of history Hegel defines true knowledge as the union of the objective and the subjective, namely, events plus the consciousness of those events; or more properly, European events and male European consciousness of thema classic case of what Arjun Appadurai calls the capacity of knowledge to generate localities. Yet for Hegel there is a hierarchy between the subjective, profound sentiments (affects or emotionsthe material of counterpoetics), and the objective, that outward existence of a political constitution which is enshrined in rational laws and customs (the state). This is why there are periods that, although filled with revolutions, nomadic wanderings, and the strangest mutations, are destitute of any objective history. And their destitution of an objective history is a function of the fact that they could produce no subjective history, no annals (White 1987, 12). And here is inscribed the chasm between state and stateless societies, which later is going to take us to the distinction between poetics and counterpoetics. What Hegel calls annals, White refers to as history. The difference between White and Hegel is that for Hegel the state is the organizing principle and diacritical marker which ranks the events, and history is a sort of disembodied narrative existing in a kind of transcendental subjective (social and consensual, perhaps?) [End Page 48] consciousness inscribed in the rational laws and the political constitution of the state. To introduce the question of the subjective and the objective back into a work on cross-genealogies we must keep in mind the three elements that make the distinction between the annals and history: agency, consciousness, and the state. But what if the question is displaced from the copula to gender, from written histories to the oral storytelling of counterpoetics, or from the European literate and central localities to those of the so-called illiterate societies of the periphery? The first thing we must be ready for, if the writing of history is possible in these societies, is to be open to other forms of mediating consciousness and diacritical markers than those underscored by Hegel. Because in these societies, as Gayatri Spivak (1988) has suggested, history has not lapsed into logic (philosophy) but, rather, as Antonio Cornejo Polar (1994) puts it, into fictiondancing, weaving, singinganthropological types of culture. In other words, in non-European societies the emphasis supposedly lies on what Hegel calls the subjective. It lies on the affective and emotional contained in the philosophies of primordialism (and of primitivism and romanticism too) proper to the societies with weak or not yet constituted states, or on populations not yet represented by the state. The briefest reference to the Latin American field will immediately foreground the paradoxical relationship between people and the state, and hence, in Hegels terms, between people and the production of historical knowledge. This rift between state and people forecloses all possibilities of having the state establish the diacritical marks for ordering events and consciousness into history. And hence one of the questions that a conference on cross-genealogies should address concerns the relationship between the non-European colonial and postcolonial worlds and agency, consciousness, and the state. In an attempt to make more transparent the relation between history as a conscious narrative in relation to the state and history as a culturally performed activity, one of the strategic moves in the Latin American field was to shift the space of knowledge discussion from history to culture and from the state to the market. The refurbishing of the field under these new guidelines comes to be an all-inclusive heuristic move in search of a postmodern method of highlighting the importance of the transition between literate (Angel Ramas [1984] city of letters), mass, and industrial cultures (Nstor Garca Canclinis [1995] concept of hybridity; Jess Martn Barberos [1993] notion of mass mediations). This move takes the question out of narrativity and into the world of orality and the image, and the question [End Page 49] of consciousness and diacritical markers out of the state and into the interaction between the public and the media. Here, it is not only a matter of reformulating fields of knowledge (history and culture) but also of modifying the notion of agency and consciousness in relationship to the state. The study of culture is an epistemological inflection which manages the notion that culture is an all-encompassing field, a field that does not exclude any type of practice.5 Within the field of culture, production is described not as survivals or degenerate remnants of a once authentic culture but as immensely variable relations to the market, to national culture and to local history (Franco 1992, 135). Furthermore, the actual terms of the debate are not subordinated to a search for legitimacy which comes coupled to the hiding of the forms of control of knowledge implicated the determinate effects of the market and public and private institutions (Rowe n.d., 2), but by the cultural effects of privatization, the new kinds of authorship and reception that have been introduced by the electronic media (Franco 1992, 136). In the same spirit and in sharp contrast to the narrative presented by White, subaltern studies finds in this move from history into culture a profitable surface to redeploy questions pertaining to agency in relationship to the state. Our interest is to go back Rodrguez 2

Nepantla 1.1 (2000) into both culture and history to introduce in them the three propositions outlined at this articles beginning: gender, bastard knowledges, and localities. Most of our questions relate to the organizing consciousness and diacritical markers that account for legitimization, be they understood within narrative history or oral storytelling. In my view, subaltern studies is a space invested in keeping politics within the discussions of culture, and culture within the discussions of history, always insisting on inserting the negated as a major agency, and even condition sine qua non, in the production of knowledge. The aim is to keep the presence of agency and consciousness of the oppressed as one of the diacritical markers. In this case, I would like to argue we are challenged to see the moral lesson as written in history in reverse, and to figure out forms proper to different types of narrating consciousness. In a way we are obliged to turn upside down the hierarchy between profound sentiments (the logic of primordialism) and that outward existence of a political constitution which is enshrined in rational laws and customs (the state) (White 1987, 12). Here is where we find the usefulness of the many subaltern studies works on hegemony, culture, and modernity, such as those of Antonio Gramsci (1988), Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe (1989), Julio Ramos [End Page 50] (1996), Nelly Richard (1999), Roberto Schwarz (1992), and Renato Ortiz (1994), among others. In many ways, this is the same point the South Asian Subaltern Group makes by driving a wedge between the Hegelian statist notion of history (or the history of reason), a discipline which constitutes subjects and produces hegemony, and subaltern studies investment in hearing the small voices of history as the negated or sublated narratives of the people. Ranajit Guha (1988a) criticizes historiography not for the value invested in it as a narrative form but because it is a form of power, and he is not invested in the logic of hegemony but in that of domination. In his analysis of historiography along the paradigmatic and syntagmatic axis, Guha tells us that the paradigmatic is vertical. It is diachrony, the diagrammatical signs of ideology, Whites diacritical markers, which Guha calls indices after Barthes. The syntagmatic axis is horizontal. It is the diegesis, a narrative that shuts off the small and silences the voices of the subaltern. That explains why Guha privileges other types of textnot the written narratives of history, but the study of everyday cultural performance, the body, the organizations of festivities and labor, the ideas of celebration, the expression of feelingsall of which are texts that directly contradict the narratives of statist historiography. In sum, all these debates on the conditions of possibility of agency within history and culture can generate an absolute consensus in the opposition to concepts of primordialism. But what is primordialism? In Appadurais (1996, 140) words, all group sentiments involve a strong sense of group identity, of we-ness, [and] draw on those attachments that bind small, intimate collectivities, usually those based on kinship or its extensions. Ideas of collective identity based on shared claims to blood, soil, or language draw their affective force from the sentiments that bind small groups. This deceptively simple thesis has certain special qualities that deserve to be noted. It is usually cited to account for certain aspects of politics, notably those that show groups engaging in various forms of behavior that in terms of the model are considered irrational. Appadurai (142) thus underscores that the rational model is good only for those countries that have had time to work out the Enlightenment project of political participationbased on the idea of an educated, post-ethnic, calculating individual, subsisting on the workings of the free market [End Page 51] and participating in a genuine civil society. Primordialism is the modern rendition of what Hegel defined as family stories and patriarchal traditions confined to the family and the clan, whose uniform events are not subject to serious remembrance, although at times emotions, love, the religious provoke imagination to give shape to a previously formless impulse [that is, transform them into literature]. But it is only the state which first presents subject-matter that is not only adapted to the prose of History, but involves the production of such history in the very progress of its own being. (Appadurai 1996, 12) Having said this I can bring back to the center Whites theoretical question of the organizing consciousness and relate it to the social determination of subalternity, the national-popular subject, the multicultural agent whose voice, programs, and desires are negated. The organizing consciousness takes us back to our second proposition of counterpoetics and underscores that within the metaphor of genealogies as the copula, counterpoetics are bad blood. It brings up illegitimacy (an anti- or a statist position), that specter of presence, or that submerged subject or floating signifier which (at least in regard to both history and historiography, the disciplines about which we are arguing here) Guha (1988b) proposes to retrieve by reading the documents in reverse or by finding the paradox in them. In the Caribbean, counterpoetics represents the history of the body, written in blood by Africans. In continental America counterpoetics refers to stories told by Ladino Indians, who created the indigenous bibliographical corpus of the first confrontation between Amerindians and Europeans. Today, some of these bibliographies are produced by the testimonials written by subalterns. This is a proposition I find very compatible with Antonio Cornejo Polars (1994) reflections on the idea of nondialogic heterogeneities, defined as a constant clash between the European and that other submerged subaltern corpus. This idea takes me back to the question of local knowledges. Here local is understood as that which is not universal. Thus, local knowledge, according to Appadurai (1996, 181), is actually knowledge of how to produce and reproduce locality under conditions of anxiety and entropy, social wear and flux, ecological uncertainty and cosmic volatility. The locality of local knowledge is [End Page 52] not only, or even mainly, its embeddedness in a nonnegotiable here and now or its stubborn disinterest in things at large. Local knowledge is substantially about producing reliable local subjects as well as about producing reliable local neighborhoods within which such subjects can be recognized and organized. local knowledge is what it is not principally by contrast with other knowledges but by their local teleology and ethos. it is not only local in itself but, even more important, for itself. In this regard, I find particularly useful Guhas forthcoming article entitled Subaltern Studies: Projects for Our Time and Their Convergence. In this piece, he states that the South Asian Subaltern Studies Group was a localized, regional group without aspiration to a globalization of their thinking, used to being represented by the colonizer, as the intellectuals were during the long period of colonial government. After all, it is through their academicians, intellectuals, publications, and mass media that the nonWestern world has come to know the Western world as the producer of universals. It is time for us to think of the organizing principles and diacritical markers Rodrguez 3

Nepantla 1.1 (2000) (indices) that are going to give coherence to different types of narratives. It is time to choose from the other locally produced knowledges and bibliographies what is convenient to establish the new universals from below, to constitute what Edouard Glissant calls the universal history of oppression. It is time to remember, as Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe state, that knowledge does not occur spontaneously but depends on the political mediation of intellectuals. It also depends on the locality that generates it. Epilogue: The Production of Localities To end, I want to present two examples of the production of local knowledges that invert the Hegelian distinction between those stories generated by the family and the clan and those generated by the state. In an article entitled Between Memory and History: Les Lieux de mmoire (1994, 288) Pierre Nora speaks about the disengagement of the equation of memory and history that took place in the period between the two European wars, a decisive moment in which the particular historical synthesis of memory and history came apart and the coupling of state and nation was gradually replaced by the coupling of state and society: At the same time and for the same reasons, history was transformed, spectacularly, from the [End Page 53] tradition of memory it had become into the self-knowledge of society. As such, history was able to highlight many kinds of memory, even turn itself into a laboratory of past mentalities. This observation is interesting because it bears on the relation between state and civil society, but also because it represents an about-face in European historiography, one which disengages the lieux de mmoire from statist history itself. That is, it validates a hybrid type of narrative, which is simultaneously annals (in that it has only a chronological history), chronicle (in that it has no closure), and history (in that it is a narrative with a different organizing principle and diacritical markerwhere another subject tells a story). These lieux de mmoire move away from the loci of patrimony (museums, archives, cemeteries, festivals, monuments), which belong to the age of the father, and replace them with gestures and habits, skills passed down by unspoken traditions, the bodys inherent self-knowledge, unstudied reflexes and ingrained memories, and memory transformed by its passage through history; which is nearly the opposite: voluntary and deliberate, experienced as a duty, no longer spontaneous; psychological, individual, and subjective (Nora 1994, 289). To illustrate his critical point Nora examines geography books for children, for example, Tour de la France par deux enfants (1877), or the Petit lavisse, in which the memory of adults is represented as the present undertaking of children and how they get to remember landscapes as patriawhich invokes the presence of the state. Few Latin American children, if any, must have escaped the same memories of patria when reading From the Apennines to the Andes, by Edmundo dAmici. The story tells the problems endured by an Italian boy who travels from Italy to Argentina in search of his mother. What, if not affect and the identification with a migrant boy, is the mediating device which creates patria in alien lands and experiences? Based on these examples we can argue once more that cross-genealogies is perhaps a way of exploring the possibilities of constructing strategic gender- and subalternfriendly bibliographical alliances. These alliances bring together the experiences of subjects like peasants in India, peasant Amerindians, and migrant farm workers in the United States, whose stories (those of multiculturalism, feminism, ethnicity, popular fronts) have not been included in old notions of archives. The great families, the church, and the state do not generate these stories. They are rather compiled, as Nora states in agreement with Guha and Michel Foucault, in the public offices and institutions, in the criminal recordsfor instance, the three hundred linear kilometers of documents of the French security archives [End Page 54] (or in the United States, in the CIA, the FBI, and the Immigration and Naturalization archives). Nora (1994, 291) asserts that ideally, in France, the computerized evaluation of this mass of raw memory would provide a reading of the sum total of the normal and the pathological in society, from diets to life-styles, by region and by profession; yet even preservation and plausible implementation call for drastic and impossible choices. There are currently in France more than three hundred teams employed in gathering the voices that come to us from the past to produce them requires thirtysix hours for each hour of recording time and they can never be used piecemeal, because they only have meaning when heard in their entirety. Whose will to remember do they ultimately reflect, that of the interviewer or that of the interviewed? No longer living memorys more or less intended remainder, the archive has become the deliberate and calculated secretion of lost memory. In the United States, the Virginia Foundation for the Humanities provides another example. One of the purposes of this institution is to finance the writing of alternative histories. It is interesting to note that one of the main goals of this foundation is to promote studies of victims of state violence. I recently had the opportunity to hear a presentation on battered women. The speaker, Claudia Hasanbegovic, established a relationship between state violence (history) and private violence (storytelling). In her practice as a lawyer, she gathered an impressive number of autobiographic testimonials of battered women. These testimonials were their depositions, entire diaries, which recorded the instances, forms, and time of battering and the relationship between the victimization of women and state terrorism and torture. These radically critical annals and new single mothers biographies shed light on the organizing principle of the new socialities. Along the same lines of storytelling as history, Nora Strejilevich (1997), one of the many Argentinean woman desaparecidas, wrote a magnificent novel-testimonial, Una sola muerte numerosa. This novel, narrated as a collage of voices, recounts her own experience in Argentina. Her attempt is to write what Mercedes Sosa sings as todas las voces, todas; todas las manos, todas; todas las sangres, todas [All the voices, all; all the hands, all; all the bloods, all]. There are several other studies worth mentioning. One wants to tell the [End Page 55] story of child abuse and pedophilia. This project is undertaken by a scholar who is using her own memories of abuse as a point of departure. Her story is particularly attractive because her parents were deaf. Like blind people in Ernesto Sabatos novels, deaf people in the United States are a community. They know each other nationally and have lived together in communities specially organized for the deaf. Thus she is reconstructing a story of sexual abuse through the testimonials provided by the deaf. There is another scholar, studying racism, who is also working from her own experiences. She remembers how her own family wanted to keep her protected from the civil rights movement, although some major demonstrations occurred right outside of her house. Insofar as storytelling as literary narrative goes, I can also mention works of fiction like Ricardo Piglias Memorias del fuego (1998), as well as Diamela Eltits The Fourth World (1995) and Arturo Ariass Jaguar en llamas (1989), which offer instances of the new narrative written from alternative types of Rodrguez 4

Nepantla 1.1 (2000) organizing consciousness, those of the descartados sociales. These instances, which are now blooming, bring me back to the efforts established by Guha many years ago when he foresaw the possibilities of establishing cross-genealogies between India and China (as did many of the Latin American guerrilla movements) and looked in the categories of negativity, gossip, and territoriality for new organizing principles of the socialities that had not enjoyed the privileges of statist history but were carriers of memory and culture. Notes 1. For this proposition, see Franco 1992. 2. For the second proposition, see Glissant 1989. 3. For the third proposition, see Appadurai 1996. 4. See, for instance, Barbero 1993. In this text, Barbero studies the role of state governance in regard to the internal national migrations from the countryside to the city produced by modernization. He points out the presence of the masses in the city began to mean an enormous deficit of housing and transport and a new way of inhabiting the cities, of walking through the streets, of behaving. The masses wanted jobs, health, education, and entertainment. But they could not vindicate their rights to those goods and services without massifying [democratizing] everything. A revolution of expectations, massification laid bare its paradox: in integration laid subversion (172). See also Hobsbawm 1983. Writing about the same period in Europe, Hobsbawm argues that the relation between ruling bodies and their projects with the goals of governing the masses finds a paradox in the unexpected presence of self-ruled mass organizations, which rendered the state efforts to control them obsolete. In Hobsbawms (1983, 245) words the state, seen from above in the perspective of its formal rulers or dominant groups, raised unprecedented problems of how to maintain or even establish the obedience, loyalty and cooperation of its subjects or members, or its own legitimacy in their eyes. They became even more acute when the political movements of citizens as masses deliberately challenged the legitimacy of the systems of political or social rule, and/or threatened to prove incompatible with the states order by setting the obligations to some other human collectivitymost usually class, church or nationalityabove it. Arjun Appadurai (1996, 129) describes this same paradoxical situation, showing how numbers, census reports, and the invention of new categories such as castes regulate and discipline subalterns but often obtain diametrically opposite results. After 1870 not only had numbers become an integral part of the colonial imaginary and the practical ideologies of its low-level functionaries, but Indian social groups had become both functionally and discursively unyoked from the local agrarian landscapes and set adrift in a vast pan-Indian social encyclopedia. This release was a function of the growing sense that the social morphology of caste could provide an overall grid through the census for organizing knowledge about the Indian population. These are the conditions for the special force of the Indian census after 1870, which was intended to quantify previously set classifications but in fact had just the reverse effectto stimulate the self-mobilization of these groups into a variety of larger trans-local political forms. 5. For a more detailed discussion on this topic, see Rowe n.d. References Appadurai, Arjun. 1996. Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Arias, Arturo. 1989. Jaguar en llamas. Guatemala: Ministero de Educacin. Barbero, Jess Martn. 1993. De los medios a las mediaciones: Comunicacin, cultura, y hegemona. Mexico City: Ediciones G. Gili. Cornejo Polar, Antonio. 1994. Escribir en el aire: Ensayo sobre la heterogeneidad socio-cultural en las literaturas andinas. Lima: Editorial Horizonte. Eltit, Diamela. 1995. The Fourth World. Translated by Dick Gerdes. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Franco, Jean. 1992. Border Patrol. Travesa 1: 13442. Garca Canclini, Nstor. 1995. Hybrid Cultures: Strategies for Entering and Leaving Modernity. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Glissant, Edouard. 1989. Caribbean Discourse: Selected Essays. Translated by Michael Dash. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press. Gramsci, Antonio. 1988. A Gramsci Reader: Selected Writings. Edited by David Forgacs. London: Lawrencer Wishart. Guha, Ranajit. 1988a. Dominance without Hegemony and Its Historiography. In Subaltern Studies VI, edited by Ranajit Guha. Delhi: Oxford University Press. . 1988b. The Prose of Counter-Insurgency. In Selected Subaltern Studies, edited by Ranajit Guha and Gayatri Spivak. New York: Oxford University Press. . Forthcoming. Subaltern Studies: Projects for Our Time and Their Convergence. In Citizenship and Governability: Latin American Subaltern Studies, edited by Ileana Rodrguez and Mara Milagros Lpez. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Hobsbawm, Eric. 1983. Mass-Producing Traditions: Europe, 18701914. In The Invention of Tradition, edited by Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Laclau, Ernesto, and Chantal Mouffe. 1989. Hegemony and Socialist Strategy: Towards a Radical Democratic Politics. London: Verso. Nora, Pierre. 1994. Between Memory and History: Les Lieux de mmoire. In History and Memory in African-American Culture, edited by Genevive Fabre and Robert OMeally. New York: Oxford University Press. Ortiz, Renato. 1994. Mundializao e cultura. So Paulo: Editora Brasiliense. Piglia, Ricardo. 1998. Memorias del fuego. Buenos Aires: Sudamericana. Rama, Angel. 1984. La ciudad letrada. Hanover: Ediciones del Norte. Ramos, Julio. 1996. Desencuentros con la modernidad. Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura. Richard, Nelly. 1999. Residuos y metforas: Ensayos de crtica cultural sobre el Chile de la transicin. Santiago: Cuarto Propio. Rowe, William. n.d. Potica, cosmologa, y modelos de la cultura en la poca de medios electrnicos. Paper given to author in electronic form. Schwarz, Roberto. 1992. Ao vencedor as batatas: Forma literria e processo social nos incios do romance brasileiro. Sao Paulo: Livraria Duas Cidades. Spivak, Gayatri. 1988. Introduction. In Selected Subaltern Studies, edited by Ranajit Guha and Gayatri Spivak. New York: Oxford University Press. Strejilevich, Nora. 1997. Una sola muerte numerosa. Miami: North South Center Press. White, Hayden. 1987. The Content of the Form: Narrative, Discourse, and Historical Representation. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. En lnea en: http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/nepantla/v001/1.1rodriguez.html Rodrguez 5

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