Criminology (1880-1940)

Cuban scientists in the early 1900s published books on how to use hair to distinguish the degree of racial mixing because determining skin color could indicate degrees of criminality. Writings in Mexico averred that men with thick lips were likely to be rapists while men with thin lips had a propensity for murder. Brazilian law enforcement made permanent records for any woman wandering the streets because she was assumed to be either a thief or a prostitute. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, scientists throughout much of the Western world believed that physical and psychological traits could be used to distinguish criminals and that the observed traits could then be statistically quantified to reflect recurring themes. Latin American criminologists were most influenced by the Italian School of criminal anthropology and Cesare Lombroso, its leading figure. Lombroso considered "born criminals" comparable to "primitive" races who were afflicted with "social diseases," traits presented as negative in order to establish a wider sense of social normality. Latin American reformers attempted to use this supposedly empirical science to identify and segregate the disruptive elements, rehabilitate them, and make the world safe for progress and modernity (Rodriguez 2006).

As is the case with several aspects of Latin American society since the late 19th century, experts on criminology and forensics have striven self-consciously to appear modern, both in order to enforce the law more efficiently and to demonstrate to the rest of the "civilized" world that the leading Latin American nations could be counted among them. Julia Rodriguez, an historian of science and society in Latin America, argued that the incredible advances in medicine that began in the mid nineteenth century led the upper-class intelligentsia to believe that science could also provide cures for the problems of society, especially crime. As in medical science, criminologists looked to identify the causes and symptoms that were characteristic of the criminal element in society. Their discoveries, however, often reflected the elites' preexisting racist, nationalistic, and classist prejudices.

More so than perhaps any other science, criminology is connected to the specific mores of individual governments and works to promote the norms that are valued by those in power. In Latin America from the 1880s to the 1930s, this science focused all too often on the exclusion, imprisonment, and degradation of people who did not fit their preconceived notions of race, gender, and class. As seen in the source "Direccion General de Inmigracion, governments exercised this power not only in an effort to identify the criminal elements within their countries, but to exclude potentially disruptive immigrants.

From the late nineteenth century on, the emphasis was on using new techniques, like fingerprinting, physiognomy, and photography to identify criminals and enter them into the public records. The source on Juan Vucetich relates an innovation in fingerprint classification that originated in Argentina. In theory, creating permanent fichas (files) on suspected criminals would discourage recidivism, prevent criminals from using aliases, and allow suspects to be monitored internationally. The Latin American nations that possessed modern forensics, however, tended to use these new tools of power towards specifically local ends. Argentina hoped to use fingerprinting to monitor working class immigrants, the group considered most dangerous to the larger social body. Mexican criminologists in the Porfirian era legitimized existing elite notions that Indians were prone to criminal behavior and used their evidence to exclude them from citizenship (Buffington 2000). Brazilian law enforcement used their new capacity to make authoritative fichas in order to label individuals (who were often innocent) as suspect (Da Cunha 2005), while Cuban criminology stressed racial classification in their files because darker skinned persons were considered more prone to criminal behavior (Bronfman 2007).

Although criminology was pervaded by exclusionary social practices, Latin Americans nevertheless achieved remarkable scientific advancements in this field. Carlos Roumagnac conducted empirical studies within Mexican prisons by interviewing inmates and Juan Vucetich created and implemented the first practical fingerprinting system in Argentina and spread it throughout the world. Discoveries such as these serve as further evidence that scientific excellence can be achieved in unexpected regions of the globe.

Questions for further exploration:

1. Although each Latin American country developed its own form of criminology and used it for its own purposes, they were part of an Atlantic network of scientific ideas. Which aspects of European and U.S. science most affected Latin American criminology?

2. Did Latin American practices in criminology have an impact on the Atlantic scientific community (if so, what was it)?

3. To what extent did racism (fueled by racial science, social-Darwinism, or older prejudices) shape the work of criminologists in Latin America? How did criminologists, in turn, impact racist ideologies?

4. How did Argentinean reformers known as the Generation of 1880 incorporate scientific criminology within the greater milieu of new scientific ideas influencing Argentina near the end of the nineteenth century (see the sources on immigration documents and fingerprinting)?

5. Mexico, Cuba, and Brazil all had complex racial stratifications within their societies. What was the impact of Lombrosian criminology on the racial dynamic in any one of these countries?

Further reading:

Bronfman, Alejandra. "The Allure of Technology: Photographs, Statistics, and the Elusive Female Criminal in 1930s Cuba." Gender and History. 19: 1 (April 2007): 60-77.

Buffington, Robert M. Criminal and Citizen in Modern Mexico. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2000.

Da Cuna, Olivia Maria Gomes. "The Stigma of Dishonor: Criminal Records, Civil Rights, and Forensic Identification in Rio De Janeiro, 1903-1940." In Honor, Status, and Law in Modern Latin America. Ed. by Sueann Caulfield, Sarah C. Chambers, and Lara Putnam. Durham: Duke University Press, 2005.

Piccato, Pablo. City of Suspects: Crime in Mexico City, 1900-1931. Durham: Duke University Press, 2001.

Rodriguez, Julia. Civilizing Argentina: Science, Medicine, and the Modern State. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006.

Rodriguez, Julia. "South Atlantic Crossings: Fingerprints, Science, and the State in Turn-of-the-Century Argentina." The American Historical Review. 109: 2 (April 2004): 387-416.

Argentine Penitentiary

Date: 1907
Owner: Archivo General de la Nacion, Argentina
Source Type: Images

 

This photograph depicts the National Penitentiary of Argentina in Buenos Aires, a facility completed in 1880 as part of a movement for prison reform. Although criminal traits were seen as biologically inheritable, the penitentiary was conceived as a place where those with the social malady of criminal behavior could be cured of their symptoms. Most importantly, prison reform was meant to exemplify Argentina's progress towards modernity by dealing with delinquents in a constructive manner based on scientific practices. Improving malefactors was one step towards improving the social body as a whole.

This penitentiary was thus built with a central watch tower and radiating halls, a design based on Jeremy Bentham's panopticon. The idea was that a handful of guards in the main tower could continually monitor the prisoners, and the inmates' awareness of being watched served as its own rehabilitating form of punishment. The penitentiary's discipline program followed a model from New York which stressed labor and education during the day and isolation at night time. Criminals were therefore "cured" by school and work by day while the panoptic surveillance of the central tower discouraged aberrant behavior while alone.

The reality of the National Penitentiary, however, fell far short of the ideal. It was meant to house 600 male prisoners in solitary cells but, by 1897, 5,153 people were incarcerated there. Overcrowding and inadequate provisions for prisoners were also endemic to Argentina's less self-consciously modern jails, which reformers claimed caused more criminal behavior than they cured.

Reference: 

Rodriguez, Julia. Civilizing Argentina: Science, Medicine, and Modern State. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006.

CITATION: Salvatore, Ricardo D. and Carlos Aguirre, eds. The Birth of the Penitentiary in Latin America: Essays on Criminology, Prison Reform, and Social Control, 1830-1940. Austin: University of Texas, 1996. Aerial view of the Buenos Aires Penitentiary (1925). Source: Archivo General de la Nacion, Buenos Aires.

DIGITAL ID: 12974

 

Criminal Types

Date: 1892
Owner: Benjamin Lara
Source Type: Images

 

These 1892 photographs are from the book Estudios de antropologia criminal, by Mexican criminologists Francisco Martinez Baca and Manuel Vergara. This series of portraits are from a collection of one hundred inmate mug shots used in their study of what factors determined whether Mexicans would be criminals. The first five photos are men charged with assault, numbers six through seventeen are rapists, and the last three are robbers. Although influenced by Italian criminology, Martinez and Vergara sought to elucidate the specific traits of Mexican malefactors because they believed that the differences in racial composition, climate, and culture meant that the data collected for European criminals would not apply to Mexicans. In order to make their study eminently scientific, they included three sets of data for Mexican criminal types: photographs (like those in this source), cranial measurements, and biographical information. This study of offenders' backgrounds pointed to such social influences as poor education and alcoholism, but even drinking problems were considered to stem from physical abnormalities.

Based on a rather scanty set of data (one hundred pictures and twenty-six skulls), Martinez and Vergara found that Mexican criminals did indeed have unique physiognomic features. In general, criminals deviated from "normal" Mexicans in terms of skull shape, facial features (rapists, for example, had thick lips), and disposition. Despite this supposedly empirical evidence, such claims about criminal types simply reasserted elitist notions within Mexican society, such as the fear that miscegenation caused moral and physical degeneration. Since lower class mestizos could often pass as full-blooded Spaniards, Martinez and Vergara warned that the honest portion of the population be wary that such moral degenerates may be lurking unnoticed amidst "normal" society.

Reference:

Buffington, Robert. Criminal and Citizen in Modern Mexico. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2000.

CITATION: Martinez Baca, Francisco and Manuel Vergara. Estudios de antropologia criminal. Puebla: Imprenta, litografia y Encuadernacion de Benjamin Lara, 1892.

DIGITAL ID: 12940

 

Direccion General de Inmigracion

Date: 1912
Owner: Museo de la Policia de la Provincia de Buenos Aires, La Plata
Source Type: Images

 

This form, titled "Description of the Immigrant," was implemented by Argentina's immigration service in 1912 in order to compile a database of information on new immigrants in an era when Europeans (largely from Southern Europe) flocked to Argentina in great numbers. The required information on this card included age, nationality, skin color, height, and a space for fingerprints (bottom right). Fingerprinting was useful for stopping known criminals at the border as well as entering potential offenders or disruptive radicals, especially anarchists, into the government's database.

Yet the scientific compilation of information on new immigrants sent a more fundamental message to new arrivals: it warned them that they were subordinate to the state and being monitored. The goals of such efforts, according to information in the "immigrant's book" (a sort of passport given to recent arrivals) was to assimilate foreigners with the Argentine state. Immigrants were required to carry this card, the "Description of the Immigrant," with them at all times in order to be granted protection under Argentine law.

CITATION: Rodriguez, Julia. "Immigration ID." in "South Atlantic Crossings: Fingerprints, Science, and the State in Turn-of-the-Century Argentina." American Historical Review. vol. 109, no. 2: April 2004. pg. 412. Source: "Resolucion No. 292," miscellaneous folder Archivio Vucetich, Museo de la Policia de la Provincia de Buenos Aires, La Plata.

DIGITAL ID: 12864

 

Doctor in Argentine Prison

Date: 1932
Owner: Instituto de Criminologia de la Penitentiaria Nacional
Source Type: Images

 

This 1932 photograph shows a patient being examined in Argentina's national penitentiary. In 1905, the Argentine government created the Office of Medicolegal Studies whose job was to examine the physical, psychological, hereditary, and moral characteristics of incarcerated persons in order to better understand "the criminal type" and thus better defend society against such corruptive agents. Social and personal habits (especially alcoholism), diseases, education, religiosity, and skills were similarly investigated, especially in imprisoned young men and boys because they were believed to be the symbolic and real manifestation of the nation's future, and it was thus imperative to identify the causes of their "antisocial" behavior.

As Lila Caimari points out, the actual act of examining prisoners asserted the state's power over the individual and, far from socializing inmates, actually exacerbated further the gap between "normal" citizens and criminals. Furthermore, just because the people being examined were in a necessarily subaltern position does not mean that they passively accepted their inquisition and provided accurate responses to their examiners. In fact, every inmate knew that the psychological and biographical information they provided had direct and profound consequences on their personal future. The information gathered by criminologists, even those based on "facts," such as anthropometrics, was thus far from objective, being subject to manipulation by both the examiner and the examinee.

Reference: Caimari, Lila. Apenas Un Delincuente: Crimen, Castigo y Cultura en la Argentina, 1880-1955. Buenos Aires: Siglo Vientiuno Editores, 2004.

CITATION: From Revista de Criminologia, Psiquiatria y Medicina Legal, mayo-junio 1932.

DIGITAL ID: 12944

 

Female Criminals in Cuba

Date: 1929
Owner: Dorrbecker, Havana
Source Type: Images

 

These twelve women are among the 400 photographed for Israel Castellanos' La Delincuencia Femenina en Cuba (1929), a massive work that tries to quantify female criminal traits through statistics and new technologies, especially the photograph. Castellanos, the leading figure in Cuban criminology in the pre-Communist era, was convinced that sufficient statistical and anthropometrical data would clarify characteristics that were shared by Cuban "born criminals," the Lombrosian catchall of criminology. Yet, according to historian Alejandra Bronfman, the sheer volume of statistics and photographs in this book blurred any cut and dry generalizations about criminal types and actually undermined Castellanos' efforts to make claims about the propensity of Cuba's various races to committing crimes (Castellano thought mulatas were the race most prone to criminal acts because they were the most passionate).

One reason for this is the ambiguity of photographs like these. Criminologists and others have tried to use photography as a technology that could possess the essence of the subject in an image, but the women sitting for the pictures could express themselves independently of the photographer by assuming certain facial expressions, postures, and hair or clothing styles. Indeed, a quick look at these women reveals a huge spectrum of individual attitudes and emotions. Photographs did not therefore serve any legitimately scientific purpose in such studies, leading Bronfman to the conclusion that Castellanos was perhaps more enamored with the study of criminals than actually preventing crime.

The captions, though, tell a different story than the pictures, one that is intimately connected to prevalent concepts of race, gender, and criminal bodies. In these captions, Castellanos thoroughly objectifies his female subjects, picking apart details of facial features and using these "irregularities" as physiological bases for criminal tendencies. For example, the woman shown on the bottom of page LXVIX has the "lips of a tapir," two other women have "fugitive foreheads," and both women on page XI have tattoos, a clear mark of criminality for proponents of Lombroso's Italian School. Gender norms are also obvious in Castellanos' citing of their crime as "disobedience" and "scandal." Furthermore, the captions contain such supposedly vital information as skin color, nose shape, height, weight, forehead shape, ear shape, facial symmetry, mouth size, and lip size. Like other social sciences, criminology can lend itself to gross generalizations that, quite often, reveal more about the predilections of scientists than the traits of their subjects.

Reference: Bronfman, Alejandra. "Mismeasured Women: Gender and Social Science on the Eve of Female Suffrage in Cuba." In Gender, Sexuality, and Power in Latin America Since Independence." Edited by William E. French and Katherine Elaine Bliss. New York: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 2007.
  

CITATION: Castellanos, Israel. La Delincuencia Femenina en Cuba. Vol. 3. Habana: Dorrbecker, 1929.

DIGITAL ID: 13130

 

Indigenous Female Criminal

Date: 1920
Owner: Ethnos
Source Type: Images

This drawing of an Indian woman reflects two overlapping concerns of Latin American criminology in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries: race and gender. Indians, blacks, and people of mixed race had been the subjects of suspicion and subjugation since early colonial times, but positivists like Mexico's cientificos and Argentina's Generation of 1880 brought new legitimacy to such racist ideas by using "objective" observations, like nose shape and head size, to determine those most prone to crime. In most cases, criminologists reiterated the pervasive fear that such degenerates would corrupt society and hinder Latin America's quest for modernity.

Women, as mothers and wives who nurtured the young men necessary for modernizing their countries, had an especially important role to play in this project, thus their degeneracy became a central concern. (Also, female criminals were a favorite of sensationalist writings; the public ate-up stories of women driven to murder by their passions). Women who deviated from the prevalent gender role were a threat and, as the biological fount of more citizens, it was considered extremely important to identify the roots of female degeneracy and to isolate and rehabilitate deviant women. Thus institutions like Argentina's "Houses of Deposit" allowed husbands or other dominant males to "deposit" women into correctional houses for such offenses as homosexuality, infanticide, or "bad temperament." The ongoing interest in women and race among Latin American criminologists underscore how prevalent pseudo-scientific theories, especially those stemming from Darwinian evolution, had become to social reformers c. 1900.

References:

Buffington, Robert M. Criminal and Citizen in Modern Mexico. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2000.

Rodriguez, Julia. Civilizing Argentina: Science, Medicine, and the Modern State. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006.

CITATION: Drawings by Francisco Goytia from an article by Lucio Mendieto y Nunez, "Influence of the Physical Environment on Primitive Peoples," in Ethnos.

DIGITAL ID: 12941

 

Instrument for Criminology

Date: 1900
Owner: Unknown Owner
Source Type: Images

 

The algometer was among the many tools employed by Cesare Lombroso and other practitioners of the Italian School of criminology, the group that had the greatest influence on Latin American criminologists in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Instruments that could quantify physiological attributes were essential to legitimizing the Italian School's theory that observable traits could distinguish born criminals and barbarians from civilized humans. Lombroso's criminological handbook suggested the use of tachianthropometers, esthesiometers, olfactometers, goniometers, and several other devices that measured everything from skull shape to one's tolerance for pain, the purpose of the algometer shown here. This practice of quantifying pain, known as algometry, was believed to prove that if one had a high threshold for pain, he or she was probably a degenerate or a descendent of barbaric stock.

The plethysmograph, another crinological instrument, was designed to record blood activities. The study of blood derived from the idea that criminals, unlike upstanding citizens, did not blush when encountering unpleasantness. Lombroso's early studies of this phenomenon were simple interviews in which female criminals were asked about their crimes and their menstrual cycles to determine their capacity to blush in response to their deeds versus simple embarrassment. More quantifiable methods were necessary, however, thus Angelo Mosso invented the plethysmograph, a sealed tube filled with tepid water that, by measuring the displacement caused by the arm within it, supposedly indicated blood activity. Like many other techniques of the Italian School, this device was supposed to make otherwise hidden criminal traits observable.

Although Latin American criminologists co-opted many of these techniques, they usually sought to adopt them to local needs. Thus the racially stratified societies of Latin America and the Caribbean emphasized hair type and skin color in determining criminality, a technique that served only to legitimize and reinforce existing racist norms.

Reference: 

Horn, David G. The Criminal Body: Lombroso and the Anatomy of Deviance. New York: Routledge, 2003.

CITATION: Algometer. From Lombroso, Cesare. Criminal Man. New York and London: G.P. Putnam's sons, 1911. Credit: Wellcome Library, London. L0022896.

DIGITAL ID: 12973

 

Juan Vucetich

Date: 1938
Owner: Museo de la Policia de la Provincia de Buenos Aires, La Plata
Source Type: Images

 

This photograph, signature, and thumbprint of Juan Vucetich were published in 1938 as the cover plate to Homenaje a [homage to] Juan Vucetich. Although fingerprint identification was a well known concept among contemporary criminologists, police departments had no effective system for collecting and cataloging fingerprints of offenders. Vucetich gained international renown in the 1890s for creating and implementing dactyloscopy (finger description), which used a system of letters (A,I,E,V for the thumb) and numbers (1-4 for the fingers) to describe the distinct loops of one's set of prints. For example, V2443 (from thumb to pinky) meant whorl, inner loop, whorl, whorl, outer loop (Rodriguez 2004). The efficacy of this system was recognized worldwide and became standard practice among criminologists.

Vucetich was a paragon of the spirit of progress that was sweeping Argentina in the late nineteenth century, an era when reformers attempted to use positivistic science to solve both real and perceived social problems. He thus recommended the implementation of dactyloscopy as a scientific cure for many social ills. Most obviously, fingerprinting could help keep track of convicts and help prevent recidivism, but it was also envisioned as a way to register prostitutes and keep track of immigrants, especially lower class ones from Southern Europe who were generally perceived as a menace. The fingerprint records allowed state bureaucracies to monitor Argentina's population with more accuracy and thus extend the progressive government's control over undesirable elements of the population.

CITATION: Rodriguez, Julia. "Juan Vucetich." in "South Atlantic Crossings: Fingerprints, Science, and the State in Turn-of-the-Century Argentina." American Historical Review. vol. 109, no. 2: April 2004. pg. 393. Frontplate with photo, signature, and thumbprint of Juan Vucetich, in Homenaje a Juan Vucetich, (Buenos Aires, 1938).

DIGITAL ID: 12859

 

Mexican Prisons

Date: 1910
Owner: Taylor Mus. for SW Studies, Col. Springs Fine Arts Center
Source Type: Images

 

These broadsides, "Ballad of the Penitentiary of Mexico" and "Very Sad Lamentations of an Exile sent to Islas Marias" comment on the two most important prisons of the Porfirio Diaz era (1876-1911). These institutions were meant to reflect the positivism of the late nineteenth century, the idea that the prison system should be based on empirically proven social needs. Mexico's cientificos, including Justo Sierra and Jose Limantour, tried self-consciously to create modern institutions and thus based their reforms on the novel theories of penologists and criminologists from Europe and the U.S.

The National Penitentiary opened in 1900 (after several decades of budget shortages) and was based largely on Jeremy Bentham's idea of the Panopticon, a prison in which an inmate is (or at least believes he/she is) under constant observation. Positivistic science "proved" that old fashioned jails merely encouraged criminal behavior so the National Penitentiary used an all encompassing "point system" that supposedly engrained prisoners with the idea that--in prison as in life--good behavior leads to happiness. Behavior modification was one of the major tenets of positivistic penology and the cientificos and others were convinced that such measures were necessary to root out the criminal element in society. This broadside emphasizes the loneliness of the inmates in the penitentiary, who were subject to almost complete isolation, a novel penological technique known as the "Philadelphia system."

The second broadside is of the Islas Marias, a prison colony begun in Diaz's Mexico in 1908. Although reformers had faith in the modern penitentiary system, most Mexican criminals were still put in crowded jail houses that were believed to harden criminals and encourage recidivism. The penal colony was meant to solve this problem by geographically isolating the criminal element that would, if released into society, further corrupt Mexico and hinder its ascension to modernity. This poster is written from the point of view of one about to be shipped off to the penal colony, and he is noting all of the miseries that await him there.

By all contemporary accounts, these prisons were squalid institutions with filthy facilities and rotten food where inhumane treatment was the norm. The debate over prison reform goes back to the late eighteenth century, but it would not be until the 1960s that significant improvements were made in Mexico's penal system.

Reference: 

Buffington, Robert M. Criminal and Citizen in Modern Mexico. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2000.

CITATION: Posada, Josa Guadalupe. "Ballad of the Penitentiary of Mexico" and "Very Sad Lamentations of an Exile Sent to Islas Marias." Courtesy of the Taylor Museum for Southwest Studies of the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center.

DIGITAL ID: 12972

 

Source References

Publications

Bronfman, Alejandra. "The Allure of Technology: Photographs, Statistics and the Elusive Female Criminal in 1930s Cuba." Gender and History. 19: 1 (April 2007): 60-77.

Buffington, Robert M. Criminal and Citizen in Modern Mexico. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2000.

Da Cuna, Olivia Maria Gomes. "The Stigma of Dishonor: Criminal Records, Civil Rights, and Forensic Identification in Rio De Janeiro, 1903-1940." In Honor, Status, and Law in Modern Latin America. Ed. by Sueann Caulfield, Sarah C. Chambers, and Lara Findlay, Eileen. Imposing Decency: The Politics of Sexuality and Race in Puerto Rico, 1870-1920. American encounters/ global interactions. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1999.

Guy, Donna J. Sex and Danger in Buenos Aires: Prostitution, Family, and Nation in Argentina. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1991.

Guy, Donna J., and Thomas E. Sheridan. Contested Ground: Comparative Frontiers on the Northern and Southern Edges of the Spanish Empire. The Southwest Center series. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1988.

Paton, Diana. No Bond but the Law: Punishment, Race, and Gender in Jamaican State Formation, 1780-1870. Durham: Duke University Press, 2004.

Piccato, Pablo. City of Suspects: Crime in Mexico City, 1900-1931. Durham: Duke University Press, 2001.

Rodriguez, Julia. "South Atlantic Crossings: Fingerprints, Science, and the State in Turn-of-the-Century Argentina." The American Historical Review. 109: 2 (April 2004): 387-416.

Rodriguez, Julia. Civilizing Argentina: Science, Medicine, and the Modern State. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006.

Ruggiero, Kristin. Modernity in the Flesh: Medicine, Law, and Society in Turn-of-the-Century Argentina. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2004. 

Salvatore, Ricardo Donato, Carlos Aguirre, and G.M. Joseph. Crime and Punishment in Latin America: Law and Society Since Late Colonial Times. Durham: Duke University Press, 2001.

Salvatore, Ricardo Donato, and Carlos Aguierre. The Birth of the Penitentiary in Latin America: Essays on Criminology, Prison Reform, and Social Control, 1830-1940. New interpretations of Latin America series. Austin: University of Texas Press, 199

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