Escude convincingly explains the problem with the language of international relations discourse. The unconscious discussion of states as if they were individuals by these theorists has negative effects on the citizens in peripheral states. When the state is viewed as an individual, its constituent parts are considered to be subordinate to the whole. This language, he
argues, legitimizes the state and allows for repression of its citizenry.

He attacks the realism of Waltz and Morgenthau on a number of issues but especially their refusal to theorize about states that are not great powers. Escude rightly points out that peripheral countries can and do destabilize the international system and thus should not be excluded from analyses.

Furthermore, realists do not consider that other goals, such as economic development, might be more important to some states than political military power. From this perspective, Escude is closer to Rosecrance than to traditional realist analysis.

Yet Escude claims to share Morgenthau's methodological approach to theory, and he thus terms his theory peripheral realism. Both peripheral realism and realism support self-interested behavior. However, Escude asserts that it is futile to attempt to design a scientific international relations theory and thus emphasizes the normative elements of peripheral realism.

Many realists would object to his terminology. Escude believes that peripheral states should commit themselves to economic development. This includes acquiescence to the great powers, which have the ability to negatively affect development in the periphery. Policies that focus on citizen welfare, Escude argues, will contribute to national well-being.

The title of the book is quite misleading, as the volume is only minimally concerned with Argentina and much less so with Menem.
Instead, it pulls selected examples from Argentina's foreign policy in order to highlight Escude's points. Escude asserts that Argentina's nonconfrontational foreign policies since 1989 have been citizen-centric.

The withdrawal of Argentina from the Non-Aligned Movement and its decision to cancel the Condor II, according to Escude, contribute to eliminate obstacles to Argentine development, although they do not in themselves generate development. Although Argentina's social and economic policies under Menem have probably not been citizen-centric, Escude claims that in the foreign policy sphere, the elimination of traditional confrontation with the Western great powers constitutes a damage-control that is in itself citizen-centric.

While Escude's analysis is thought provoking, many scholars will disagree with his conclusions. International relations theorists will likely resist Escude's assertion that they are partially responsible for the underdevelopment and repression in many parts of the South. Furthermore, Escude's insistence on Third World submission to great-power dominance will make more than
a few scholars uncomfortable.

For example, "freedom" vis-a-vis the state is clearly an asset for the individual and a value to be redeemed from an ethical point of view. But in order for the state to be absolutely "free" in the interstate system, it must not only be powerful but must also subject its citizens to tyranny: otherwise it is bound by constraints. Almost all mainstream Anglo-American international relations theory suffers from this logical flaw. Escude exposes it clearly, and goes on to show that the normative consequences of this flaw are more serious the weaker a state is. Hence, weak states have a greater obligation to pursue "citizen-centric" foreign policies. It is in the interests of the citizens of weaker states that the pursuit of interstate power be left to powerful states, who are the "rule-makers" of the interstate system. It follows that Kenneth Waltz is wrong: states are not "like units", and they do not have the same functions in the system. Escude posits the existence of three types of states with three types of functions: states that command, states that obey, and rebel (or rogue) states.

The original title in Spanish of this book is "The Realism of Weak States". Commercial reasons probably led the publishers to use a misleading title in its English-language version. References to Menem's administration in Argentina are found only as examples of a foreign policy shift, from state-centric to citizen-centric policies. This is clearly visible in Argentina's alignement with the United States; its signature of the Nuclear Non Proliferation Treaty and the dismantlement of the Condor II ballistic missile project, all of which were undertaken during the 1990s. Whatever appraisal Menem's economic and social policies may warrant, it is clear that his foreign policies were a contribution to world governance.

Prof. Carlos Escude may be a "colorful character" who is often on Argentine television (as another reviewer claims), but he is also the author of numerous academic books in Spanish, holds a Ph.D. from Yale University, and has been Visiting Professor at Harvard's Department of Government. His "Introduction to peripheral realism", published in Stephanie Neuman (ed.), "International Relations Theory and the Third World" (St. Martin's Press, 1998), is obligatory reading in courses from Columbia University to West Point.

This is one of those books you MUST read. Don't let a traditional education turn you into a comsumer zombie. Learn about YOUR history and herstory! The PEOPLE'S HISTORY. NOT THE CORPORATION'S HISTORY! NOT THE RICH WHITE MAN'S HISTORY!

There are more important people out there than ever were revealed to you in public or catholic schools, Hector.

The novel focuses on Sara, a writer who (like the author) endures imprisonment and exile. The fragmented, sometimes disorienting text is made up of several elements: Sara's prison journal entries, letters between Sara and her sister, scenes from Sara's life outside prison, and more.

The novel explores the toll taken on those who endured these ordeals, and also looks at the effect of imprisonment on people's families. Kozameh's characters also reconsider the very concept of freedom. This haunting novel should be read by all those with a serious interest in Latin American literature or human rights.

Saul Sosnowski's concise historical introduction and David E. Davis' excellent translation provide the reader both context and an important work from the period of the Proceso.

Rebecca, a dedicated professional, makes a house call to find out why a distraught, elderly patient has missed a regular appointment for psychotherapy. She discovers that the nice, well-groomed, but paranoid senior has been murdered.

Was Rebecca's diagnosis wrong? Was her patient really being followed all this time by someone from her past who wanted to kill her? So Mrs. Kochinsky had claimed over and over again!

Now Rebecca feels she has failed her patient as well as her husband. Thus, when the police dismiss the case as a random, botched robbery, Rebecca decides that she herself must investigate. Her journey to the truth takes her to painful pasts in Argentina and Poland--pasts still present in North America. It also allows her to meet Nesha, an appealing but emotionally-damaged, forty-ish stranger from San Francisco.

Nesha also wants to know what really happened to Mrs. Kochinsky--urgently! Rebecca is drawn to him. Can he help her solve the mystery? Can she heal him? Can he heal her?

To Die in Spring is not only a carefully-crafted suspense thriller but also a fascinating lesson. Without being ponderous or didactic, the author teaches about World War II, Jewish culture, fine art, modern Toronto, and the long-term effects of war on women and children.

Above all, however, this is a good story. It has a terrific plot, loveable characters, gentle humour, precise details, and graceful style. Highly recommended!

After reading Jasmine Rossi's picture book of
the area, the mystery of Patagonia has been
revealed, but the romance continues. My eyes
enjoyed a feast of nature as I made my way
through the book. I had difficulty reading
this straight through because I kept wanting
to shower my mind with the beauty and sheer
rawness of the photographs, and I kept
flipping through to discover what else
Ms. Rossi was witness to in the wild.

As hard as it was, I did read through the
book sequentially, and I appreciated how
well-organized the book turned out to
be. Each major creature had its own section,
starting with the peaceful, friendly southern
right whale, then the awesome and terrible
orca, then the seals and dolphins, penguins
and flight birds, and small land animals.

After each section I could close my eyes and
still see and understand these marvelous
animals. I could do this because Ms. Rossi
included not only understandable descriptions
but also descriptions of how she felt, for
example, when she first encountered a right
whale in the water, or when she tried to
photograph dusky dolphins.

Animals of the sea have always fascinated me,
but Ms. Rossi took me on a land trip and
showed me many other curious animals, some
familiar, like the skunk, but others
completely unknown until this book, like
Darwin's Rhea.

My favorite tidbit about the book is that
Jasmine Rossi is not a professional marine
biologist who spent years among her objects
of study; she was simply an observer with a
camera and notebook. Who says that great
discoveries are of the past of Magellan and
Darwin?

I may not ever get to visit Patagonia, but
when I'm sipping a hot drink on a cold winter
day, I can pull out the book, look at the
pictures, and take a trip to a land far away
down under.

Not only has Argentina whitened its population through immigration, they have also whitened and whitewashed their history, denying ANY black presence in Argentina even today. Reid Andrews sets the record straight. The story of the Afro-Argentines is told in meticulous detail and a straightforward writing style that gets to the point. From the time the first African slave set foot on Argentine soil; their contributions to Argentine society, especially in writing and the arts, right up until the turn of the century when they first started to "disappear" under the onslaught of massive, relentless European immigration, along with the indigenous population(and if you read the book, you find out that they didn't disappear, they ARE still here), Reid Andrews' account of black Argentine history takes on a poignant note as we move into multiculturalism and global "Brazilination". I am SO glad I was able to find this book; it may become a collector's item once the rest of Argentina's black population vanishes...