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A widely esteemed and decorated scholar who currently directs the Gotha Research Centre at the University of Erfurt, where he is also Professor in the Cultures of Knowledge in Modern Europe, Martin Mulsow has been working for over two decades to better understand the early modern origins of contemporary European thought. The Hidden Origins of the German Enlightenment, his most recent English publication, is best understood as the latest installment in what is already a three-volume history of the origins of the German Enlightenment. He indicates here that a fourth book has already been finished in German and awaits translation and publication in English in the manner of his other books in this series. The bibliography lists over sixty publications authored by Mulsow, and while his work does not appear to be finished, his recent books in English mark the apex of a scholarly arc that is noteworthy for its persistent questioning of familiar interpretive paradigms and an insistent drive to offer new insights into the origins and dynamics of European Enlightenment history.
This article examines the fantasies and fuckeries that shape Mexican nationals’ sanctioned border-crossing experiences between Mexicali, Baja California, and Calexico, California. Drawing on ethnographic research (2017–21) at four ports of entry, I employ a Žižekian critique of ideological fantasy to reveal how the border’s power operates beyond military force and physical barriers. I argue that border communities must recognise, internalise and negotiate the border’s power before experiencing it as either threatening (fuckeries) or desirable (fantasies). These fantasies – from escaping everyday Mexican life to achieving higher social status through US consumption – demonstrate how ideology materialises through the ways border-crossers find meaning in their journeys. Through intimate attachments to ‘tours’ of the other side, changing behaviours between countries, and social hierarchies tied to border access, Mexican nationals both question and ultimately reproduce the border’s power, offering insight into how geopolitical boundaries become internalised as lived experience.
The International Criminal Tribunals for Rwanda Akayesu trial, which led to the precedent-setting conviction for rape as a constituent act of genocide, offers guidance for scholars uncovering “hints” of sexual violence in armed conflict (SVAC) in legal archives. This includes consideration of: the strategic importance of SVAC testimony within the overall archive, indictment or mandate of a proceeding; euphemisms related to SVAC and how they intersect with societal attitudes toward SVAC and its victims; question framing, follow-ups, and interventions by judges or other stakeholders. Review of SVAC evidence should be attentive to the following indicators of potentially more widespread sexual atrocities: recurring acts of SVAC committed across official, public, and private spaces; the absence of areas of refuge; acts of public sexual violence, including those that have a performative dimension; occurrence of SVAC in the context of pervasive physical insecurity and fear for survival within a climate of impunity for the perpetrators; commission of SVAC as part of a sequence of crimes leading up to, and including, the death of the victim; targeting of SVAC victims based on their ethnicity or identity; experience of SVAC within a maelstrom of ethnically or identity-based violence; and the existence of supplementary sources documenting SVAC that are external to the trial record.
In total, 75,000 to 250,000 Asian civilians died building the Thailand-Burma Death Railway under Japanese military orders during the Second World War. Among these were women whose experiences remain overlooked or marginalized in histories about the Death Railway. This microhistory of the Kudo Butai war crimes trial draws on recent scholarship on the relational and structural aspects of victimization and agency to study the sexual abuse and broader experiences of women on the railway. It focuses on the experiences, strategic acts, and survival choices of the following women who appear in trial records: the nineteen-year-old orphan sexually tortured to death, “Siamese lady friends” of some defendants, and the Chinese dresser’s wife who helped POWs. By identifying the relational and structural conditions contributing to sexual violence on the railway, this study demonstrates that the overwhelming experience of women under Japanese military occupation was one of the widespread vulnerability to sexual violence.
The Irish language summer college is a unique institution that has provided education as Gaeilge to multiple generations for 120 years. Despite this enduring presence in Irish cultural memory, a presence which predates partition and the founding of the Irish Free State, the historical significance of this institution has been largely overlooked by scholars thus far. Initially founded for training teachers in the Irish language in 1904, the Irish colleges were born of the greater cultural revival movement spearheaded by the Gaelic League at the turn of the twentieth century. Scholars who have discussed the Irish colleges thus far, then, tend to treat them as offshoots of the League, a limiting view which overlooks the fact that each college retained a varying degree of independence from other colleges and external bodies. Their independence is key to the discussion of the Irish colleges’ role during the revolutionary era. Starting with the establishment of the Irish Volunteers in 1913 and ending in 1921, this article explores the degree to which Irish colleges facilitated the work of advanced nationalist organisations during this period and the effect this had on the wider language movement, the colleges themselves and those who attended them.
Incarceration under modern colonialism took various forms, but, as this chapter demonstrates, it also helps to define the nature of the state as an oppressive institution. That holds for totalitarian as much as liberal states, and wartime Australia is not exempted from this stricture. Certainly, the Dutch were not alone among colonial regimes in Asia in establishing repressive carceral systems. Reaching back to the first arriving Portuguese and Spanish in the archipelago, such practices were shared by all the foreign interlopers—Dutch, British, French and Japanese. Backed by legal institutions and courts with the power to dispense life and death, such systems would evolve. From the crude enslavement practices of the first arriving Dutch down through the sequestration of war captives, such as defined by the crushing of the Diponegoro rebellions and carried on through the multi-generational Aceh wars, to systems of forced labour and conscription of the Dutch “Culture System”, to the internment of malefactors against the Dutch rust en orde (peace and order) before the Japanese occupation, and carried on during Indonesia’s war of independence, incarceration was a constant. Nevertheless, in the last decades of Dutch rule, reaching back across the centuries, and the major subject of this book, a new category of miscreant entered the legal lexicon—namely, anti-colonial nationalists, and communists.
This article describes household activity in 13 Indigenous communities in Alaska around 1940. Alaska is too often ignored in discussions of Indigenous economic development. Our focus contributes to a greater understanding of economic development among Indigenous communities in the region and provides an important counterpoint to Indigenous economies in the contiguous United States where agency was more limited. Certainly in 1940, Alaskan Indigenous communities were less constrained relative to many Indigenous communities in the contiguous United States. Using novel household survey data from the late 1930s that provide highly detailed demographic and economic information (assets, income, household production, and liabilities) for each Indigenous household in these villages, we get a comprehensive picture of Indigenous economic well-being at the end of the Great Depression. In particular, we document the interplay of traditional Indigenous economic activity, or the bush economy, with market opportunities. One important feature of these villages is that half were reindeer owning, which allows us to compare reindeer-owning villages and households to non-reindeer owning. Our analysis of the data shows little differences between any of the villages. Perhaps most importantly, these surveys show that Native households were robustly using both traditional and market sectors and, in 1940, none were insolvent, bankrupt, or indebted.
The Soekarno-Hatta declaration of independence of the Republic of Indonesia on 17 August 1945 was not uncontested by either the Dutch or the arriving SEAC forces charged with taking the Japanese surrender and rescuing POWs (although the Japanese were vested with responsibility for law and order until Allied occupation forces took over or until a “lawful government was able to function again”). In part owing to this ambiguity, there would be five years of diplomacy and armed struggle before the Republic gained international recognition, by which time the United States had brought pressure to bear on the Netherlands, not to mention the pressure of international opinion. It is also true that, in the early weeks of the proclamation of independence, Soekarno and Hatta held legitimate fears that they would be arrested and tried as quislings, having collaborated with Japan, since war crimes investigations were ongoing, leading to the Tokyo War Crimes Tribunal. While the major local political actors confronting Allied forces on Java were not of a kind—the comparison with the politico-religious checkerboard of southern Vietnam in late 1945 offers a counterpoint—we see extraordinary unanimity in rejection of Dutch overtures where they did not prevail by force. Moreover, whether de jure or de facto, the Indonesian Republic had been created and, thanks to Japan, it hosted an armed force, the TNI, and an embryonic state structure was in place.
Historians have agreed that the gender division of labour in rural households was broadly similar across the whole of northern and western Europe during the early modern period. Until recently, however, there has been a lack of detailed data about the historical division of labour within European countries with which to test the validity of such cross-cultural generalizations. New research that has collected evidence of work tasks for early modern Sweden and England now makes it possible to undertake a direct comparison of two European countries. In this article, the gender division of labour in agriculture, craft production and commerce in Sweden and England is compared to demonstrate the complexity of historical gender divisions of labour. It presents a detailed picture of the gender division of labour that not only shows differences between the two countries but also demonstrates flexibility and adaptability in the allocation of work between women and men. As a consequence, we argue that neither broad generalizations nor single causes are adequate explanations for the patterns observed.
Beginning in the mid-1940s, superstar Layla Murad (1918–95) mobilized her contacts with the press and used her social capital as a respected artist to formulate and publicize her account of how her father and the entire family decided she would become a professional singer. Her accounts contradicted one another, as these three statements in 1946, 1948, and 1954, respectively.