麻豆淫院

The myth of the rural outlaw is deeply ingrained in human imagination worldwide. Robin Hood, Jesse James and Billy the Kid, for example, are easily recognizable and have enduring appeal. But disparate groups motivated by individual agendas find outlaws appealing (or despicable) for vastly different reasons.

What does each outlaw story come to embody at any given time, and what is the relationship between the real-life bandit and the narratives that feature him or her? 听Juan Pablo Dabove, a faculty member at the University of Colorado Boulder, investigates this question in his ongoing research on Latin American bandits.

鈥淏andits and outlaws are more than just colorful characters鈥攖he stuff of romantic myth,鈥� says Dabove, associate professor of Spanish and Portuguese.

鈥淭hey can embody, while alive or after their deaths, powerful social desires or anxieties: dreams of justice, anxieties about the breakdown of a given social order. The outlaw, as a cultural trope, as a narrative character, has political and cultural relevance because he is like a character in a dream or in a nightmare: It is created and animated by our aspirations or by our fears.鈥�

Dabove鈥檚 book, Bandit Narratives in Latin America: From Villa to Chavez (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2017), maps a number of case studies, from Mexico to Argentina, to illustrate how the bandit was 鈥渦sed鈥� by intellectuals of all types, from the nationalist right to the far left. The bandit trope appeared in both fictional and nonfictional narratives to legitimize certain political agendas and delegitimize others, he contends.

The label 鈥渂anditry,鈥� far from a clearly defined penal figure, is a wildly accommodating catch-all word, he says. A 鈥渂andit鈥� could be a destitute highwayman or, like Pancho Villa, a leader of multitudes.

Dabove examines cases of both, showing how the 鈥渂andit鈥� trope connects or blends two extremes: the abject outcast and the just sovereign. The bandit has been alternatively considered an enemy of humankind or the forerunner of a utopian society, he says.

鈥淚n fact, this 鈥榖lending鈥� of or contamination between the figures of the outlaw and the sovereign is what interests me.鈥�

鈥淲hen the Revolution came, Pancho Villa became the most able, charismatic and capable leader of the Mexican Revolution,鈥� explains Dabove. 鈥淭he romantic version of the outlaw鈥檚 story shows that even the outlaw can be king or leader of men. He鈥檚 a criminal, but he might as well be a president.鈥�

For example, argues Dabove, 鈥淚n places where the postcolonial state in Latin America was unable to control the territory or the population, these figures appeared鈥攚e would call them today warlords or strong men, people who had informal command of men and resources. They are, by our definition, outlaws, but in a very real sense, they were the law, and they created violent albeit functional systems of social regulation, collective defense, and conflict resolution, in situations where a more 鈥榝ormal state鈥� was absent.鈥�

鈥淭hey were local figures interested in local issues. They have different ideas of politics, what they want or what they don鈥檛 want,鈥� says Dabove.

鈥淚t is similar to what鈥檚 happening today in places like Afghanistan or Syria or Yemen, in which the breakdown of state authority gives rise to local, brutal figures,鈥� says Dabove. 鈥淚n the 19^th century, that happened in many places in Latin America.鈥�

These larger-than-life figures 鈥渆merged in specific situations, but if they become a part of the collective memory, this image, different from the reality of the bandit, acquires a life of its own. That 鈥榣ife鈥� has been for some years now the object of my inquiries.鈥�

Bandit Narratives in Latin America: From Villa to Chavez is available for purchase now.

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