¿Esta vez triunfarán definitivamente los gatos del trueno?
lunes, enero 31, 2011
viernes, enero 28, 2011
Hasta ahora el político más serio
Con este tema se adoctrina a los chicos para que se enlisten en el ejército. Acompaño a Piñón en la iniciativa:
El ruleo es temporal y relativo
Siempre que entro a Amazon la página me formula recomendaciones sobre la base de mi wishlist y mi historial de búsquedas, así como al revisar ciertos libros también se los relaciona con las otras preferencias de sus compradores. Como esto o algún oráculo me está haciendo aparecer mucho Why the West Rules--for Now: The Patterns of History, and What They Reveal About the Future de un tal Ian Morris, y como el tema en sus distintos abordajes siempre me interesó, me metí a ver de qué o quien se trataba. Bueno, interesante Acosta, Morris (PhD historia y arqueología en Cambridge), con sus restos arqueológicos de acento inglés, es profesor, decano, director de departamento y director de investigaciones en Stanford. En este video hace una presentación a su propuesta de medición y ubicación del desarrollo social a través del tiempo, sus causas y su proyección. Hace hincapié en los métodos cuantitativos, en el aprovechamiento de la geografía (como hace Jared Diamond) y en el establecimiento de distintos marcos temporales. Todavía no se si los scripts de Amazon conseguirán ganarme por insistencia.
miércoles, enero 26, 2011
(largas) Barbas en remojo
Los disturbios en Túnez que provocaron la renuncia del dictador Ben Alí y presuntamente concatenaron los actuales desmanes en Egipto me conducen a dos interrogantes: 1) ¿Tenía mucho que temer Ben-Ali como para haber llegado al extremo de exiliarse? 2) ¿Hubo tal efecto contagio en Egipto?
El malestar en Túnez y en Egipto tienen causas parecidas y en cierta forma relacionadas, pero en definitiva propias, porque cada dictadura tiene sus reglas y desafíos a esas reglas. La inflación desbocada puede ser potencialmente desestabilizadora en Túnez y no en Egipto; la incertidumbre sobre el futuro sucesorio puede no ser desestabilizador en Túnez pero si en Egipto, y tras la chispa iniciada por la inflación y la revuelta tunecina, las incertidumbres más o menos estables se transforman en crisis anticipadas.
Tratando de responder lo primero, en Túnez Ben Alí habrá tenido razones para creer en riesgo su seguridad o libertad si se quedaba en el país. La pregunta sobre la huída de Ben-Ali es relevante teniendo en cuenta que este conflicto encendió la mecha de otro latente en Egipto, a razón de la suma imprevisibilidad del sistema político asediado por anunciados tiempos de sucesión, ya sea por razones biológicas, o por que Hosni Mubarak comparta la misma suerte que Ben Alí. En Egipto las causas son intrínseas pero el disparador es externo. Egipcios observan lo sucedido en Túnez y actúan previendo iguales consecuencias. Las malas expectativas se hacen ver por ejemplo en el fuerte rumor de huída del pais del hijo de Mubarak, Gamal, a quien es natural ver como el posible sucesor.
Huir para salvar la vida y la dinastía tal vez sea una actitud bien fijada en la impronta cultural árabe. De los primeros cuatro califas posteriores a Mahoma -cuando todavía la sucesión no era hereditaria-, 3 murieron asesinados (Uthman, Umar y Alí) y sobre el restante (Abu Bakr) pesa al dia de hoy la sospecha de haber muerto envenenado. Los cuatro eran compañeros del profeta y quedaron vinculados a él por matrimonios. Abu Bakr y Umar eran suegros de él y Alí y Uthman eran yernos, de modo que, algo informal, el sistema funcionaba como hereditario, con todas sus expectativas.
A lo mejor esta primera desviación sobre la palabra del profeta, quien prefería un sistema electivo, y las crecientes acusaciones de nepotismo contra Uthman le valieron la muerte, la ascensión de su enemigo Alí, y finalmente la caída en desgracia de este para dar lugar -guerra civil mediante- a la implantación definitiva de la dinastía Omeya a partir de Muawiyya (gobernador de Siria bajo Umar).
Así se sucedieron 14 califas omeyas, hasta que en 749 una rebelión encabezada por Abu-i-Abbas (fundador de la dinastía abasí) acabó con la vida del propio califa y toda su familia. Solo uno escapa, Abd-al-Rahman I, también conocido como Abderramán I (no confundir con Aldebarán de Tauro), en dirección a Al-Andalus, donde consigue hacerse proclamar emir por el ejército sirio, quedando virtualmente independiente del poder centralizado político y religioso de los califas abasíes con capital en Bagdag. Con ello, esta suerte de Eneas islámico sentó las bases del 'progresista' califato de Córdoba. En qué cosas puede devenir el más rancio conservadurismo omeya...
La conclusión: en el califato 1) sí hay que temer por la vida 2) los hechos ocurridos en su territorio siempre están conectados.
El malestar en Túnez y en Egipto tienen causas parecidas y en cierta forma relacionadas, pero en definitiva propias, porque cada dictadura tiene sus reglas y desafíos a esas reglas. La inflación desbocada puede ser potencialmente desestabilizadora en Túnez y no en Egipto; la incertidumbre sobre el futuro sucesorio puede no ser desestabilizador en Túnez pero si en Egipto, y tras la chispa iniciada por la inflación y la revuelta tunecina, las incertidumbres más o menos estables se transforman en crisis anticipadas.
Tratando de responder lo primero, en Túnez Ben Alí habrá tenido razones para creer en riesgo su seguridad o libertad si se quedaba en el país. La pregunta sobre la huída de Ben-Ali es relevante teniendo en cuenta que este conflicto encendió la mecha de otro latente en Egipto, a razón de la suma imprevisibilidad del sistema político asediado por anunciados tiempos de sucesión, ya sea por razones biológicas, o por que Hosni Mubarak comparta la misma suerte que Ben Alí. En Egipto las causas son intrínseas pero el disparador es externo. Egipcios observan lo sucedido en Túnez y actúan previendo iguales consecuencias. Las malas expectativas se hacen ver por ejemplo en el fuerte rumor de huída del pais del hijo de Mubarak, Gamal, a quien es natural ver como el posible sucesor.
Huir para salvar la vida y la dinastía tal vez sea una actitud bien fijada en la impronta cultural árabe. De los primeros cuatro califas posteriores a Mahoma -cuando todavía la sucesión no era hereditaria-, 3 murieron asesinados (Uthman, Umar y Alí) y sobre el restante (Abu Bakr) pesa al dia de hoy la sospecha de haber muerto envenenado. Los cuatro eran compañeros del profeta y quedaron vinculados a él por matrimonios. Abu Bakr y Umar eran suegros de él y Alí y Uthman eran yernos, de modo que, algo informal, el sistema funcionaba como hereditario, con todas sus expectativas.
A lo mejor esta primera desviación sobre la palabra del profeta, quien prefería un sistema electivo, y las crecientes acusaciones de nepotismo contra Uthman le valieron la muerte, la ascensión de su enemigo Alí, y finalmente la caída en desgracia de este para dar lugar -guerra civil mediante- a la implantación definitiva de la dinastía Omeya a partir de Muawiyya (gobernador de Siria bajo Umar).
Así se sucedieron 14 califas omeyas, hasta que en 749 una rebelión encabezada por Abu-i-Abbas (fundador de la dinastía abasí) acabó con la vida del propio califa y toda su familia. Solo uno escapa, Abd-al-Rahman I, también conocido como Abderramán I (no confundir con Aldebarán de Tauro), en dirección a Al-Andalus, donde consigue hacerse proclamar emir por el ejército sirio, quedando virtualmente independiente del poder centralizado político y religioso de los califas abasíes con capital en Bagdag. Con ello, esta suerte de Eneas islámico sentó las bases del 'progresista' califato de Córdoba. En qué cosas puede devenir el más rancio conservadurismo omeya...
La conclusión: en el califato 1) sí hay que temer por la vida 2) los hechos ocurridos en su territorio siempre están conectados.
lunes, enero 24, 2011
Clarividencia y/o celos
En las Apostillas a el nombre de la rosa (1985), para mi Eco predice la aparición de Dan Brawn:
La diferencia, en todo caso, está entre el texto que quiere producir un lector nuevo y el que trata de anticiparse a los deseos del lector que puede encontrarse por la calle. En el segundo caso, tenemos el libro escrito, construido según un formulario adecuado para la producción en serie: el autor realiza una especie de análisis de mercado, y se ajusta a las expectativas. Con la distancia puede verse quién trabaja mediante fórmulas: basta analizar las diferentes novelas que ha escrito, para descubrir que, salvo los cambios de nombres, lugares y fisonomías, en todas se cuenta la misma historia. La que el público pedía.
Hace un tiempo se despachó en una entrevista:
-I am wondering if you read Dan Brown’s “Da Vinci Code,” which some critics see as the pop version of your “Name of the Rose.”
-I was obliged to read it because everybody was asking me about it. My answer is that Dan Brown is one of the characters in my novel, “Foucault’s Pendulum,” which is about people who start believing in occult stuff.
y en otra:
INTERVIEWER: Have you read The Da Vinci Code?
ECO: Yes, I am guilty of that too.
INTERVIEWER: That novel seems like a bizarre little offshoot of Foucault’s Pendulum.
ECO: The author, Dan Brown, is a character from Foucault’s Pendulum! I invented him. He shares my characters’ fascinations—the world conspiracy of Rosicrucians, Masons, and Jesuits. The role of the Knights Templar. The hermetic secret. The principle that everything is connected. I suspect Dan Brown might not even exist.
sábado, enero 22, 2011
Para Hugo Perugia
Coges un gato negro, ¿verdad? Que no tenga ni un solo pelo blanco (ya lo sabes), y le atas las patas, luego lo llevas a medianoche hasta un cruce de caminos, y una vez allí gritas en alta voz: «¡Oh, gran Lucifer, emperador del infierno, te cojo y te introduzco en el cuerpo de mi enemigo, así como tengo prisionero a este gato, y si matas a mi enemigo, a medianoche del día siguiente, en este mismo sitio, te sacrificaré este gato, y harás todo lo que te ordeno por los poderes de la magia que estoy practicando según el libro oculto de San Cipriano, en el nombre de todos los jefes de las mayores legiones del infierno, Adramech, Alastor y Azazel, a quienes ahora invoco junto a todos sus hermanos...!» –sus labios temblaban, los ojos parecían haberse salido de las órbitas, y empezó a rezar, mejor dicho, parecía un rezo, pero lo que hacía era implorar a todos los barones de las legiones del infierno– : Abigor, pecca pro nobis... Amón, miserere nobis... Samael, libera nos a bono... Belial aleyson... Focalor, in corruptionem meam intende... Haborym, damnamus dominum... Zaebos, anum meum aperies... Leonardo, asperge me spermate tuo et inquinabor...[1]
[1] «Abigor, peca por nosotros... Amón, ten compasión de nosotros... Samael, líbranos del bien... Belial, ten compasión... Focalor, dirígete a mi corrupción... Haborym, condenamos al señor... Zaebos, abrirás mi ano... Leonardo, rocíame con tu semen y quedaré manchado».
jueves, enero 20, 2011
Más excepción que regla
Los PIIGS son los imperios del pasado (con excepción de Irlanda, que nunca lo fue)
El BRIC son las civilizaciones del futuro (con excepción de Brasil, que descendiendo de Portugal tiene más aspiración de imperio que de civilización).
El ladrillo es más duro que el chanchito
miércoles, enero 19, 2011
martes, enero 18, 2011
Contate otra Umberto
Adso dice sentirse un inútil porque no puede diferenciar entre sí a las sectas de los "valdenses, los cátaros, los pobres de Lyon, los humillados, los begardos, los terciarios, los lombardos, los joaquinistas, los patarinos, los apostólicos, los pobres de Lombardía, los arnaldistas, los guillermitas, los seguidores del espíritu libre y los luciferinos."
Guillermo le contesta bien platónico, con una alegoría:
"Piensa mejor en un río, caudaloso e imponente, que recorre millas y millas entre firmes terraplenes, de modo que se ve muy bien dónde está el río, dónde el terraplén y dónde la tierra firme. En cierto momento, el río, por cansancio, porque ha corrido demasiado tiempo y recorrido demasiada distancia, porque ya está cerca del mar, que anula en sí a todos los ríos, ya no sabe qué es. Se convierte en su propio delta. Quizá subsiste un brazo principal pero de él surgen muchos otros, en todas direcciones, y algunos se comunican entre sí, y ya no se sabe dónde acaba uno y dónde empieza otro, y a veces es imposible saber si algo sigue siendo río o ya es mar...
[...] el cuerpo de la iglesia, que durante siglos también ha sido el cuerpo de la sociedad, el pueblo de Dios, se ha vuelto demasiado rico, y caudaloso, y arrastra las escorias de todos los sitios por los que ha pasado, y ha perdido su pureza. Los brazos del delta son, por decirlo así, otros tantos intentos del río por llegar lo más rápidamente posible al mar, o sea al momento de la purificación. Pero mi alegoría era imperfecta, sólo servía para explicarte que, cuando el río ya no se contiene, los brazos de la herejía y de los movimientos de renovación son numerosísimos y se confunden entre sí. Si lo deseas, puedes añadir a mi pésima alegoría la imagen de alguien empeñado en reconstruir los terraplenes del río, pero infructuosamente. De modo que algunos brazos del delta quedan cubiertos de tierra, otros son desviados hacia el río a través de canales artificiales, mientras que los restantes quedan en libertad, porque es imposible conservar todo el caudal y conviene que el río pierda una parte de sus aguas si quiere seguir discurriendo por su cauce, si quiere que su cauce sea reconocible.
—Cada vez entiendo menos.
—Y yo igual. No soy muy bueno para las parábolas."
Guillermo le contesta bien platónico, con una alegoría:
"Piensa mejor en un río, caudaloso e imponente, que recorre millas y millas entre firmes terraplenes, de modo que se ve muy bien dónde está el río, dónde el terraplén y dónde la tierra firme. En cierto momento, el río, por cansancio, porque ha corrido demasiado tiempo y recorrido demasiada distancia, porque ya está cerca del mar, que anula en sí a todos los ríos, ya no sabe qué es. Se convierte en su propio delta. Quizá subsiste un brazo principal pero de él surgen muchos otros, en todas direcciones, y algunos se comunican entre sí, y ya no se sabe dónde acaba uno y dónde empieza otro, y a veces es imposible saber si algo sigue siendo río o ya es mar...
[...] el cuerpo de la iglesia, que durante siglos también ha sido el cuerpo de la sociedad, el pueblo de Dios, se ha vuelto demasiado rico, y caudaloso, y arrastra las escorias de todos los sitios por los que ha pasado, y ha perdido su pureza. Los brazos del delta son, por decirlo así, otros tantos intentos del río por llegar lo más rápidamente posible al mar, o sea al momento de la purificación. Pero mi alegoría era imperfecta, sólo servía para explicarte que, cuando el río ya no se contiene, los brazos de la herejía y de los movimientos de renovación son numerosísimos y se confunden entre sí. Si lo deseas, puedes añadir a mi pésima alegoría la imagen de alguien empeñado en reconstruir los terraplenes del río, pero infructuosamente. De modo que algunos brazos del delta quedan cubiertos de tierra, otros son desviados hacia el río a través de canales artificiales, mientras que los restantes quedan en libertad, porque es imposible conservar todo el caudal y conviene que el río pierda una parte de sus aguas si quiere seguir discurriendo por su cauce, si quiere que su cauce sea reconocible.
—Cada vez entiendo menos.
—Y yo igual. No soy muy bueno para las parábolas."
domingo, enero 16, 2011
Para Oriente Miedo
(En el nombre de la Rosa, Guillermo de Baskerville perdió los anteojos y le pide a su asistente que le lea el título de un libro cualquiera de la biblioteca)
Adso, sin aquellos benditos oculi ad legendum no logro comprender lo que hay escrito en estos libros. Léeme algunos títulos.
Cogí un libro al azar:
—¡Maestro, no está escrito!
—¿Cómo? Veo que está escrito. ¿Qué lees en él?
—No leo. No son letras del alfabeto, y no es griego, no podríais reconocerlo. Parecen gusanillos, sierpes, cagaditas de mosca...
—¡Ah! es árabe. ¿Qué más hay?
viernes, enero 07, 2011
jueves, diciembre 30, 2010
Jorge Rial (mercenarios)
La armada brasilera debió buscar oficiales y tripulantes en otro lado:
The subsequent loss of the schooner Maria Teresa and its convoy of transports, taken to Montevideo by a pro-Portuguese officer in January 1823, led to a general questioning of the
loyalty of naval personnel and further predisposed Brazilian patriotic circles to accept the decision to hire Cochrane and other foreign officers. By then all of the Spanish American
republics had established navies commanded primarily by British and American officers idled after 1815; indeed, the migration had been so extensive that, in the British case, it inspired Parliament to pass the Foreign Enlistment Act of 1819, which among other provisions denied inactive British officers their half-pay while they were employed by another country.
The navy of Chile, which Cochrane had served since 1818, provided the most dramatic example of the decisive difference foreign naval talent could make within the context of the Latin
American Wars for Independence. Thomas, Lord Cochrane, later 10th Earl of Dundonald, was a highly decorated British veteran of the Napoleonic wars, living in exile in France (after being disgraced in a stock market scandal in 1814) when he accepted command of the Chilean navy. His brilliant campaign against the Spanish navy ranged as far north as the coast of California; the high point came in 1820–21, when his fleet transported the army of General José de San Martín to conquer Peru, the last bastion of Spanish rule in South America.
Thereafter he fell out with San Martín, who established himself as dictator of Peru and tried to lure Cochrane and his British officers and seamen into Peruvian service. Cochrane refused, but enough of his officers and men accepted seriously to cripple the Chilean navy. Once Spain had been defeated, Cochrane’s relationship with the Chilean government soured over issues of pay and prize money. As early as May 1822 Dom Pedro’s chief agent in Britain suggested Cochrane as a potential commander of the Brazilian navy. When offered the position six months later, he accepted: ‘The war in the Pacific having been happily terminated by the total destruction of the Spanish naval force, I am . . . free for the crusade of liberty in any other quarter of the globe.’
Dom Pedro accepted Cochrane’s stiff demands regarding rank and salary. A vice admiral in Chile, he received the rank of ‘first admiral’ in Brazil, with compensation at an annual rate of 11,500 milréis (£2,304) when ashore and 17,290 milréis (£3,458) while at sea, sums three times as great as the salary of any other Brazilian admiral, and £500 per year more than what he would have earned as a British admiral commanding a fleet. Cochrane brought four British officers with him from Chile, and another 47 British subjects entered the Brazilian naval officer corps during 1822–3. Six more followed in 1824, one in 1825 and two in 1826, bringing the overall total (including Cochrane) to 61. Most were young, 56 entering at the rank of lieutenant or lower. The British were neither the first nor the only foreign officers hired by Brazil. The prospect of serving under a monarchy made Brazil somewhat less attractive than the Spanish American republics in the eyes of officers from the United States, yet Captain David Jewitt, an American most recently in the service of Argentina, was the first foreigner commissioned by the Brazilian navy, in October 1822. Other early signings included Teodoro de Beaurepaire, formerly of the French navy.15 Thus the leadership of the fleet Cochrane took
into action against the Portuguese had a truly multinational character. The commanders of the nine warships that left Rio de Janeiro in April 1823 included four Brazilians, three Britons,
the American Jewitt and the Frenchman Beaurepaire; aboard Cochrane’s flagship Pedro I, the officers and staff included eight Brazilians, six Britons, two Frenchmen and one German.
Cochrane spent the next nine months campaigning against Pernambuco and its allies among the other northern provinces.
In consolidating Dom Pedro’s rule, the navy continued to place a special trust in its British officers: in midsummer 1824–5 they accounted for 57 of the 170 officers at sea and served as commanders of 13 warships. Cochrane remained an effective commander despite becoming increasingly preoccupied, even obsessed, with prize money. In a development disturbingly reminiscent of his last months in Chile, he argued constantly with the Brazilian government over the sums he felt that he and his men had earned in vanquishing the Portuguese navy during
1823. After leaving the flagship Pedro I for the frigate Piranga, in May 1825 Cochrane sailed directly from Maranhão to Britain, ostensibly to repair his ship. Having declared his sympathy with ‘the struggle for the liberties of Greece’ as early as 1822, he was receptive to an overture from the Greek navy and by August 1825 had negotiated the fabulous sum of £57,000 to serve as its commander-in-chief. After he ignored repeated appeals to return to Brazil, in April 1827 the navy formally dismissed him, one month after he finally arrived in Greece to assume his new
post.
While the British influence remained strong, during 1825 other foreigners entered the officer corps in unprecedented numbers. The navy employed sixteen American, French and Scandinavian officers, including nine who arrived that year. During 1826 a Danish officer served as the first commander of the steamer Correio Brasileiro. After suffering no fatalities in the War for Independence, four of Brazil’s British officers lost their lives in the war against
Argentina, killed outright or mortally wounded in the action.
Just two deserted to the Argentinians; one, a lieutenant, who took a schooner with him, crossing paths during 1827 with an Argentinian British lieutenant who defected to Brazil. The
same high degree of loyalty did not hold true for the British seamen recruited into Brazilian service, at least in the Cisplatine War. Because the Argentinian navy was even more dependent
upon British manpower (for two-thirds of its officers and half of its seamen, compared to one-fifth of the officers and one-sixth of the seamen for the Brazilian navy, as of 1827), deserters
moved easily between the two navies, selling their services to the highest bidder. Captured British seamen typically accepted the offer to change sides rather than spend months idle (and
unpaid) as prisoners of war.
Over the months that followed Brazilian agents offering able seamen 13 milréis (£2.60) per month, significantly more than the £1.60 they could earn in the British navy, found no shortage
of volunteers. The first 170 British sailors reached Rio de Janeiro in March 1823, coinciding with Cochrane’s arrival from Chile. Another 250 departed from Britain in April and May, still in time to participate in the War for Independence. The next great wave of recruits left Britain for Brazil between July and November 1825, as the navy prepared for the Cisplatine War. Of 400 seamen in this cohort, 150 sailed aboard the frigate Piranga when it returned to Brazil without Cochrane. By 1827 there were between 1,000 and 1,200 British sailors in Brazilian service.
The subsequent loss of the schooner Maria Teresa and its convoy of transports, taken to Montevideo by a pro-Portuguese officer in January 1823, led to a general questioning of the
loyalty of naval personnel and further predisposed Brazilian patriotic circles to accept the decision to hire Cochrane and other foreign officers. By then all of the Spanish American
republics had established navies commanded primarily by British and American officers idled after 1815; indeed, the migration had been so extensive that, in the British case, it inspired Parliament to pass the Foreign Enlistment Act of 1819, which among other provisions denied inactive British officers their half-pay while they were employed by another country.
The navy of Chile, which Cochrane had served since 1818, provided the most dramatic example of the decisive difference foreign naval talent could make within the context of the Latin
American Wars for Independence. Thomas, Lord Cochrane, later 10th Earl of Dundonald, was a highly decorated British veteran of the Napoleonic wars, living in exile in France (after being disgraced in a stock market scandal in 1814) when he accepted command of the Chilean navy. His brilliant campaign against the Spanish navy ranged as far north as the coast of California; the high point came in 1820–21, when his fleet transported the army of General José de San Martín to conquer Peru, the last bastion of Spanish rule in South America.
Thereafter he fell out with San Martín, who established himself as dictator of Peru and tried to lure Cochrane and his British officers and seamen into Peruvian service. Cochrane refused, but enough of his officers and men accepted seriously to cripple the Chilean navy. Once Spain had been defeated, Cochrane’s relationship with the Chilean government soured over issues of pay and prize money. As early as May 1822 Dom Pedro’s chief agent in Britain suggested Cochrane as a potential commander of the Brazilian navy. When offered the position six months later, he accepted: ‘The war in the Pacific having been happily terminated by the total destruction of the Spanish naval force, I am . . . free for the crusade of liberty in any other quarter of the globe.’
Dom Pedro accepted Cochrane’s stiff demands regarding rank and salary. A vice admiral in Chile, he received the rank of ‘first admiral’ in Brazil, with compensation at an annual rate of 11,500 milréis (£2,304) when ashore and 17,290 milréis (£3,458) while at sea, sums three times as great as the salary of any other Brazilian admiral, and £500 per year more than what he would have earned as a British admiral commanding a fleet. Cochrane brought four British officers with him from Chile, and another 47 British subjects entered the Brazilian naval officer corps during 1822–3. Six more followed in 1824, one in 1825 and two in 1826, bringing the overall total (including Cochrane) to 61. Most were young, 56 entering at the rank of lieutenant or lower. The British were neither the first nor the only foreign officers hired by Brazil. The prospect of serving under a monarchy made Brazil somewhat less attractive than the Spanish American republics in the eyes of officers from the United States, yet Captain David Jewitt, an American most recently in the service of Argentina, was the first foreigner commissioned by the Brazilian navy, in October 1822. Other early signings included Teodoro de Beaurepaire, formerly of the French navy.15 Thus the leadership of the fleet Cochrane took
into action against the Portuguese had a truly multinational character. The commanders of the nine warships that left Rio de Janeiro in April 1823 included four Brazilians, three Britons,
the American Jewitt and the Frenchman Beaurepaire; aboard Cochrane’s flagship Pedro I, the officers and staff included eight Brazilians, six Britons, two Frenchmen and one German.
Cochrane spent the next nine months campaigning against Pernambuco and its allies among the other northern provinces.
In consolidating Dom Pedro’s rule, the navy continued to place a special trust in its British officers: in midsummer 1824–5 they accounted for 57 of the 170 officers at sea and served as commanders of 13 warships. Cochrane remained an effective commander despite becoming increasingly preoccupied, even obsessed, with prize money. In a development disturbingly reminiscent of his last months in Chile, he argued constantly with the Brazilian government over the sums he felt that he and his men had earned in vanquishing the Portuguese navy during
1823. After leaving the flagship Pedro I for the frigate Piranga, in May 1825 Cochrane sailed directly from Maranhão to Britain, ostensibly to repair his ship. Having declared his sympathy with ‘the struggle for the liberties of Greece’ as early as 1822, he was receptive to an overture from the Greek navy and by August 1825 had negotiated the fabulous sum of £57,000 to serve as its commander-in-chief. After he ignored repeated appeals to return to Brazil, in April 1827 the navy formally dismissed him, one month after he finally arrived in Greece to assume his new
post.
While the British influence remained strong, during 1825 other foreigners entered the officer corps in unprecedented numbers. The navy employed sixteen American, French and Scandinavian officers, including nine who arrived that year. During 1826 a Danish officer served as the first commander of the steamer Correio Brasileiro. After suffering no fatalities in the War for Independence, four of Brazil’s British officers lost their lives in the war against
Argentina, killed outright or mortally wounded in the action.
Just two deserted to the Argentinians; one, a lieutenant, who took a schooner with him, crossing paths during 1827 with an Argentinian British lieutenant who defected to Brazil. The
same high degree of loyalty did not hold true for the British seamen recruited into Brazilian service, at least in the Cisplatine War. Because the Argentinian navy was even more dependent
upon British manpower (for two-thirds of its officers and half of its seamen, compared to one-fifth of the officers and one-sixth of the seamen for the Brazilian navy, as of 1827), deserters
moved easily between the two navies, selling their services to the highest bidder. Captured British seamen typically accepted the offer to change sides rather than spend months idle (and
unpaid) as prisoners of war.
Over the months that followed Brazilian agents offering able seamen 13 milréis (£2.60) per month, significantly more than the £1.60 they could earn in the British navy, found no shortage
of volunteers. The first 170 British sailors reached Rio de Janeiro in March 1823, coinciding with Cochrane’s arrival from Chile. Another 250 departed from Britain in April and May, still in time to participate in the War for Independence. The next great wave of recruits left Britain for Brazil between July and November 1825, as the navy prepared for the Cisplatine War. Of 400 seamen in this cohort, 150 sailed aboard the frigate Piranga when it returned to Brazil without Cochrane. By 1827 there were between 1,000 and 1,200 British sailors in Brazilian service.
domingo, diciembre 26, 2010
Matías Ale
Otro capítulo de este librito sobre las armadas, esta vez sobre la brasilera en la década de 1820:
The navy’s most formidable warships were its large sailing vessels, but these were of little use on the rivers and inshore coastal waters where the Cisplatine War was fought. The three largest warships Brazil lost were corvettes, one (the Itaparica) captured on a river and two (the Duqueza de Goias and Maceió) abandoned after running aground in shallow water. Under such conditions the brigs, schooners and gunboats of the Brazilian and Argentinian navies saw most of the action, often in bitter fighting, with several of the smallest warships changing hands two or three times during the course of the conflict. As of May 1827, the Argentinian navy (not counting privateers) included two corvettes, four brigs and ten schooners, of which exactly half (one corvette, two brigs and five schooners) had been captured from the Brazilian navy.8 By 1828 the Brazilian fleet included one ship of the line, nine frigates, five corvettes and sixty-one brigs, schooners and gunboats, with another nine warships (including a ship of the line, two frigates and two corvettes) under construction. That year the naval budget consumed 3,500 contos of réis (£700,000), triple the outlay of 1823, and the fleet quite rightly was held to blame for Brazil’s huge budget deficit and spiralling inflation.
The rising cost of the navy in particular and the Cisplatine War in general occasioned fiery speeches in the Brazilian assembly. But Deputy Cuhna Mattos, speaking in 1827, summed up the thoughts of many patriotic Brazilians in concluding that ‘to maintain our honour and dignity at sea, we must maintain a large naval force’.Thanks to Dom Pedro’s naval build-up, by 1830 Brazil could boast of having the world’s eighth largest navy and, in the western hemisphere, the second largest, trailing only that of the United States. In larger warships built-and-building the Brazilian navy’s force of two ships of the line and eleven frigates remained clearly inferior to the American navy’s ten ships of the line and sixteen frigates but, if measured either in larger warships or in total warships, the Brazilian fleet was stronger than all the other navies of Latin America combined.
Op cit, p. 82-83
The navy’s most formidable warships were its large sailing vessels, but these were of little use on the rivers and inshore coastal waters where the Cisplatine War was fought. The three largest warships Brazil lost were corvettes, one (the Itaparica) captured on a river and two (the Duqueza de Goias and Maceió) abandoned after running aground in shallow water. Under such conditions the brigs, schooners and gunboats of the Brazilian and Argentinian navies saw most of the action, often in bitter fighting, with several of the smallest warships changing hands two or three times during the course of the conflict. As of May 1827, the Argentinian navy (not counting privateers) included two corvettes, four brigs and ten schooners, of which exactly half (one corvette, two brigs and five schooners) had been captured from the Brazilian navy.8 By 1828 the Brazilian fleet included one ship of the line, nine frigates, five corvettes and sixty-one brigs, schooners and gunboats, with another nine warships (including a ship of the line, two frigates and two corvettes) under construction. That year the naval budget consumed 3,500 contos of réis (£700,000), triple the outlay of 1823, and the fleet quite rightly was held to blame for Brazil’s huge budget deficit and spiralling inflation.
The rising cost of the navy in particular and the Cisplatine War in general occasioned fiery speeches in the Brazilian assembly. But Deputy Cuhna Mattos, speaking in 1827, summed up the thoughts of many patriotic Brazilians in concluding that ‘to maintain our honour and dignity at sea, we must maintain a large naval force’.Thanks to Dom Pedro’s naval build-up, by 1830 Brazil could boast of having the world’s eighth largest navy and, in the western hemisphere, the second largest, trailing only that of the United States. In larger warships built-and-building the Brazilian navy’s force of two ships of the line and eleven frigates remained clearly inferior to the American navy’s ten ships of the line and sixteen frigates but, if measured either in larger warships or in total warships, the Brazilian fleet was stronger than all the other navies of Latin America combined.
Op cit, p. 82-83
lunes, diciembre 20, 2010
La Mole Moli
En el 36 Japón se largó a una carrera naval que no podía ganar.
The sheer number of ships being built between 1937 and 1941 was impressive enough, but in ships completed during those years the us navy still outpaced the Japanese in every type but aircraft carriers, where the United States commissioned just four. In a further ominous sign, Japan’s build-up reflected practically the maximum that its economy and industry could support, while the concurrent American effort was a relatively insignificant sideshow to an economy still on a peacetime footing.
In 1937, the first year since 1921 with no international limits on naval construction, both the United States and Japan spent just over $1 billion on defence, but while the us total represented just 1.5 per cent of a national income of $68 billion, the Japanese figure was 28 per cent of a national income of only $4 billion.
Between 1942 and 1945 the Japanese navy fell only further behind, overwhelmed by the wartime production of the United States. During those years Japan completed 1 battleship (the Musashi), 10 carriers, 5 cruisers, 61 destroyers and 121 submarines, while the us navy added 8 battleships, 112 carriers (including 82 escort carriers), 48 cruisers, 354 destroyers and 203 submarines.
Lawrence Sondhaus, Navies in Modern World History, p. 213
The sheer number of ships being built between 1937 and 1941 was impressive enough, but in ships completed during those years the us navy still outpaced the Japanese in every type but aircraft carriers, where the United States commissioned just four. In a further ominous sign, Japan’s build-up reflected practically the maximum that its economy and industry could support, while the concurrent American effort was a relatively insignificant sideshow to an economy still on a peacetime footing.
In 1937, the first year since 1921 with no international limits on naval construction, both the United States and Japan spent just over $1 billion on defence, but while the us total represented just 1.5 per cent of a national income of $68 billion, the Japanese figure was 28 per cent of a national income of only $4 billion.
Between 1942 and 1945 the Japanese navy fell only further behind, overwhelmed by the wartime production of the United States. During those years Japan completed 1 battleship (the Musashi), 10 carriers, 5 cruisers, 61 destroyers and 121 submarines, while the us navy added 8 battleships, 112 carriers (including 82 escort carriers), 48 cruisers, 354 destroyers and 203 submarines.
Lawrence Sondhaus, Navies in Modern World History, p. 213
lunes, diciembre 06, 2010
430 años para duplicar el ritmo de crecimiento
BBCHistoryMag BBC History Magazine
In medieval England, average income was more than double that of the poorest nations today, says Warwick Uni reportAbstract: We provide annual estimates of GDP for England between 1270 and 1700 and for Great Britain between 1700 and 1870, constructed from the output side. The GDP data are combined with population estimates to calculate GDP per capita. We find English per capita income growth of 0.20 per cent per annum between 1270 and 1700, although growth was episodic, with the strongest growth during the Black Death crisis of the fourteenth century and in the second half of the seventeenth century. For the period 1700-1870, we find British per capita income growth of 0.48 per cent, broadly in line with the widely accepted Crafts/Harley estimates. This modest trend growth in per capita income since 1270 suggests that, working back from the present, living standards in the late medieval period were well above “bare bones subsistence”. This can be reconciled with modest levels of kilocalorie consumption per head because of the very large share of pastoral production in agriculture.
jueves, diciembre 02, 2010
El BRIQ
El Bric sigue demostrando ser prometedor, ahora con la designación del mundial de 2018 en Rusia. Decían que el pais era demasiado grande (17.000.000km2) para un mundial. Como para no poder decir lo mismo, eligieron sede de 2022 a Qatar, un pais de 11.000 km2, del tamaño de las malvinas, casi la mitad de Tucumán. Dicen que hace demasiado calor en Qatar en verano, por eso habrá aire acondicionado en los estadios. Una cosa: ¡ojo también con el verano ruso!
Tras el mundial de México 86 vino una serie de organizaciones en el primer mundo (Italia, EEUU, Francia, Korea-Japon y Alemania). La nueva serie muestra el buen momento no solo del BRIC sino de las materias primas en estos tiempos: Sudáfrica, Brasil, Rusia y Qatar. Esto debe servir de nuevo llamado de atención a India y China, si quieren estar a la altura de las circunstancias.
Tras el mundial de México 86 vino una serie de organizaciones en el primer mundo (Italia, EEUU, Francia, Korea-Japon y Alemania). La nueva serie muestra el buen momento no solo del BRIC sino de las materias primas en estos tiempos: Sudáfrica, Brasil, Rusia y Qatar. Esto debe servir de nuevo llamado de atención a India y China, si quieren estar a la altura de las circunstancias.
domingo, noviembre 28, 2010
Novela patagonia, capítulo 52
La cervecería patagonia (propiedad de Quilmes, que a su vez es propiedad del AB-InBev, pero no llegó al nombre del super conglomerado yanko-brazuco-belga) sacó 2 nuevas variedades: Weisse (trigo) y Bohemian pilsner. Compré en los chinos el otro dia, 12 mangos cada una. Hasta ahora probé la Weisse, y está bien para acá, digamos, no podemos pedirle mucho a un método de elaboración absolutamente desconocido para el paladar argentino. En este caso le dieron un toque bastante personal, lo que se deduce de sus fuertes notas a limón. Es refrescante, sin duda. La Bohemian todavía no la probé.
Les recomiendo este muy buen blog de cervezas, todos reviews serios. Comenta las cervezas en cuestión, resaltando sobre la Patagonia Weissbier sus características cítricas y pálidas más propias de una witbier (trigueña belga/holandesa), juicio que comparto totalmente.
jueves, noviembre 25, 2010
sábado, noviembre 20, 2010
Esto también va morir con el E-bok
Un par de parecidos de libros. Aclaro que en ningún parecido se trata de la misma editorial.
jueves, noviembre 11, 2010
Ahora que terminó la PGM
Un aspecto de un frente poco tratado: los civiles en el italo-austríaco.
The internees were forcibly transferred – sometimes with their children, sometimes by cattle truck – to locations the length and breadth of Italy, where they lived under police surveillance,
subsisting on hand-outs, amid suspicious Italian patriots.
[...]
In fact the number of internees was already 5,000 and would rise to 70,000. Internment began as soon as the army marched into eastern Friuli and the Dolomites. As the highest authority in the war zone, the Supreme Command decided who should be interned and on what grounds. There were no fixed criteria for these judgements, and decisions were made by the commanding officer on the spot, or by military police.
The occupation created a golden chance for score-settling. Local nationalists, prone to the intolerance that partners revolutionary idealism, prepared blacklists of their opponents, who were not lacking, for most Habsburg Italians were not nationalist at all. Kinship ties, ethnic origins, hearsay, anonymous letters, the testimony of ‘trusted’ informants, and sheer malice: all these played a part in the drama of internment. Francesco Rossi, a labourer, was arrested and interned after he was overheard saying that Italy was poor and would never be able to help poor people, as Austria had done. A family of seven was deported to southern Italy for giving their youngest child the ‘disrespectful’ name of Germana. The infant’s godfather was interned as well for good measure. Six men from Villa Vicentina were interned for allegedly criticising the Italian army in a bar. Their offence was ‘defeatism’, like Leonardo Mian of Aquileia, interned after insulting army officers when in his cups. Another man was reportedly slow to help an Italian soldier who fell in a river, so he was packed off to Puglia at the far end of Italy. Few internees were given any reason for their treatment. Many files contain no allegations at all. Lack of open enthusiasm for the occupation was enough to prompt misgivings.
Giuseppe Leghissa, a trader, was banished to Tuscany for being ‘notoriously hostile to the cause’.
-Mark Thompson, The White war: Life and death on the Italian Front 1915-1919
p. 136-37
The internees were forcibly transferred – sometimes with their children, sometimes by cattle truck – to locations the length and breadth of Italy, where they lived under police surveillance,
subsisting on hand-outs, amid suspicious Italian patriots.
[...]
In fact the number of internees was already 5,000 and would rise to 70,000. Internment began as soon as the army marched into eastern Friuli and the Dolomites. As the highest authority in the war zone, the Supreme Command decided who should be interned and on what grounds. There were no fixed criteria for these judgements, and decisions were made by the commanding officer on the spot, or by military police.
The occupation created a golden chance for score-settling. Local nationalists, prone to the intolerance that partners revolutionary idealism, prepared blacklists of their opponents, who were not lacking, for most Habsburg Italians were not nationalist at all. Kinship ties, ethnic origins, hearsay, anonymous letters, the testimony of ‘trusted’ informants, and sheer malice: all these played a part in the drama of internment. Francesco Rossi, a labourer, was arrested and interned after he was overheard saying that Italy was poor and would never be able to help poor people, as Austria had done. A family of seven was deported to southern Italy for giving their youngest child the ‘disrespectful’ name of Germana. The infant’s godfather was interned as well for good measure. Six men from Villa Vicentina were interned for allegedly criticising the Italian army in a bar. Their offence was ‘defeatism’, like Leonardo Mian of Aquileia, interned after insulting army officers when in his cups. Another man was reportedly slow to help an Italian soldier who fell in a river, so he was packed off to Puglia at the far end of Italy. Few internees were given any reason for their treatment. Many files contain no allegations at all. Lack of open enthusiasm for the occupation was enough to prompt misgivings.
Giuseppe Leghissa, a trader, was banished to Tuscany for being ‘notoriously hostile to the cause’.
-Mark Thompson, The White war: Life and death on the Italian Front 1915-1919
p. 136-37
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