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The contemporary LGBTQ+ history of Northern Ireland has emerged relatively recently. This article examines two negative models that fed into understandings of male homosexuality between the early 1960s and the end of the 1980s, and some of the discourses that emanated from them. Using contemporary comment, theological and medical writings, and oral history testimonies, this article charts the fortunes of models of ‘sickness’ and ‘sinfulness’. A campaign to secure law reform in the 1970s forced churches to confront the ‘problem’ of homosexuality. I demonstrate the complexity of responses from two major Protestant churches, the tentative emergence of a challenge from radical Christians and how this landscape has been obscured by the notoriety of an infamous fundamentalist campaign. As was the case in England, the notion of homosexuality as a pathology gained traction in Northern Ireland only in the 1950s and 1960s, leading to medical conversion practices, such as aversion therapy, which attempted to ‘cure’ men of same-sex desire. However, discourses conflicted, with regional social conditions resulting in ‘sickness’ co-existing uneasily with ‘sin’. And although it was opposed by a strain of evangelical thought, social conditions fostered by conservative religiosity enabled pathologisation to linger on through the 1980s.
Having exposed the colonial carceral apparatus that targeted the supposed authors of the 1926–27 rebellions, this chapter turns to the origins of the pergerakan or anti-colonial movement in Indonesia (pergerakan was a self-definition that entered the vocabulary of the key protagonists and editors). This chapter is also sensitive to the zaman or epoch that the anti-colonial movement epitomizes. Traditions of anti-colonial rebellion confronting colonial power that reach back through hundreds of years of colonial rule cannot be ignored. Neither can we neglect a cascade of events that signalled major changes in world order. Pertaining to Islam, such an event includes the rise of the Islamic modernist movement with its insistence on religious faith in public life, such as touched the Ottoman Empire. On the part of the colonial order, the advent of the Bolshevik Revolution and the setting up of the Soviet-controlled Communist International (Comintern), also called the Third International, were fearful developments. The opening decades of the twentieth century were an era of rapid social change. decades of the twentieth century were an era of rapid social change. As aptly evoked by author-editor Mas Marco Kartodikromo, this was a Doenia Bergerak, or world in motion, matched by the rise of newspapers, editors and readership. As a movement, the pergerakan also witnessed the advent of political parties, both religious and secular, typically around charismatic leaders. Budi Utomo (BU) was a pioneer, but, from its advent in 1912, Sarekat Islam (SI) quickly emerged as the first truly mass-based organization.
In the US, scholars have long argued that white people across class lines share a taken for granted interest in property. Yet in the antebellum period, as land was concentrated in the hands of a few slaveholders, southern nonslaveholding white people were largely unable to partake in land ownership. Only after the Civil War did many more white people benefit from “whiteness as property,“ in part through homesteading (free land), a policy strongly pushed for by antislavery elites – who argued for, in addition to freedom from slavery, white people’s inherent interests in property. How do we explain what changed, and the specific ideology – that white people have an interest in property – which helped shape this policy? Using the case of the Homestead Act of 1862, I argue that antislavery elites articulated a property interest in whiteness. The Homestead Act is an example of struggles to articulate poor southern white peoples’s ideal relationship to landed property, according to antislavery conceptions of middle-class farming and agrarian capitalism. I show articulation processes, as antislavery figures responded to white poverty in the South, resulting in arguments for free land for white people. I also show a shift in rhetoric among antislavery Republicans in the late 1850s and early 1860s, in which they expanded their framing of homesteading to include an emphasis on bringing poor white people into modernity and civilization compatible with the politics of scientific agriculture. This article complicates accounts of whiteness as property by tracing historically specific ideologies of whiteness and land in the south in the antebellum period.
This study examines the transformation of the Weather Change Wedding, a seasonal ritual once performed in Isparta, a city in present-day Western Turkey. Rooted in the symbolic marriage between the son of the cold northern wind, Poyraz, and the daughter of the mild southern wind, Lodos, the ritual aimed to alter the severe weather conditions that adversely affected the town. Initially organized by male-dominated guilds, with the participation of local notables and religious institutions, the ritual gradually evolved into a performance increasingly shaped by women. However, this transformation was not merely a matter of women filling a void left by men, nor did it represent a form of substitute agency. Rather, it was the result of a historically specific process shaped by structural changes, such as the rise of women’s labor in the carpet-weaving sector and demographic shifts triggered by World War I and the War of Independence, which tipped the gender balance toward women. This transformation, however, did not emerge as a form of resistance to patriarchal norms; it took shape within a gender regime in which those very norms were being renegotiated.
For the Indonesian nationalists and communists who departed their homeland in the 1920s, whether for study or as exiles, there were two primary poles of attraction. For those who graduated through the colonial Dutch education system, Holland was the obvious destination, and so student groups clustered in such places as The Hague or Amsterdam. Some from these groups would visit Berlin or Brussels for conferences, and still others were attracted to Paris. But for those who the Bolshevik revolution was an inspiration or who otherwise heeded Lenin's opportunistic call to bring down the capitalist world order starting from the colonies, then Moscow was a lodestar. As seen in the preceding chapter, setting up in Moscow required dedication and patronage, not to mention proven revolutionary credentials such as membership of the PKI or its affiliates. Likewise, as this chapter brings to light, operating within the bounds of the metropolitan legal system in Holland required special organizational as well as cultural and linguistic skills on the part of the Indonesian anti-colonial nationalists. Without ignoring Berlin, the major comparison with Holland is with the diasporic communities of Vietnamese, North Africans, Madagascan, and French West Indians residing in France who were active in pro-independence activities and who were also divided as to the best approach under fierce metropolitan surveillance.
Dating from the Koiso Declaration of 7 September 1944 (a reference to the vague promise by then Japanese prime minister Koiso Kuniaki of independence for the East Indies), Japan went about planning the future state system in Indonesia as an integral part of the Japanese Empire to have a standing analogous to Korea or Taiwan. Nevertheless, as the tide of war changed, both the timetable and the procedure underwent significant changes. Notable in this respect was the creation of a consultative group to engage a select segment of Indonesians, termed the Dokuritsu Junbi Chosakai but better known by its Bahasa Indonesia name as Badan Penjelidik Usaha Persiapan Kemerdekaan Indonesia (BPUPKI) (Investigating Committee for Preparatory Work for Indonesian Independence). Such planning helps to explain how, on the day after the proclamation of independence, a central Republican government was established in Jakarta.
The first section of this chapter sets down the key steps leading to the historic Indonesian Proclamation of Independence, offering a range of Japanese narratives on the timetable and process of the independence movement as recorded by Allied interrogators. The second section focuses on the Japanese Naval Liaison Bureau in Jakarta. It also includes a post-war prison interrogation with the key Japanese official in charge among others involved in the proclamation of Indonesian independence.
Enigmatically styled an “affair”, a “rebellion”, a “coup” or a “provocation”, the advent of the PKI-backed rebellion in the East Java city of Madiun and the crushing of it was a game changer especially insofar as the Republic would win new legitimacy in the eyes of the West. As far as the United States was concerned, the events appeared to strike a decisive blow to Moscow’s ambitions at a juncture when the fault lines of the Cold War were clear. Nevertheless, even with most of the top leadership arrested and/or executed in the TNI repression of the event, others escaped, with certain among the 1945 generation going on to command and revive the PKI “phoenix” in the 1950s and beyond. Still, much remains enigmatic about the Madiun Affair until this day, especially as the failed revolution within a revolution mounted in a provincial capital without apparent mass support outside of a thin local working class was entirely outside of the lexicon of communist revolutions.
The first section of this chapter examines the dramatic return from Moscow of Musso in August 1948 and the events leading to the Madiun Affair in September–October 1948. The second section examines the failure of Madiun while seeking new answers to old questions about events and historical narratives. The third section sets down the facts of the rebellion and its repression that led to Musso’s death, along with those of Sardjono, Amir Sjarifoeddin and other ranking PKI-Moscow members at the hands of the TNI. The final section examines Western media and diplomatic reporting on Madiun.
Detailed legal and court records of household and personal violence do not survive from early modern Ireland in sufficient numbers to allow for statistical analysis. However, close reading of selected court narratives about violence between householders allows analysis of the contested contemporary meanings of violence. In their descriptions, witnesses read the marks on injured bodies and interpreted their meanings according to gendered hierarchies of power within households. This article uses such narratives to analyse interpersonal violence between members of families and households in early modern Ireland.
This article examines the experience of English Catholics within Spanish naval service during the Elizabethan period. It explores their status and roles, as well as the range of motives that led them into Spanish service—religious conviction, familial or military loyalties, the pursuit of fortune, or, in the case of prisoners, the necessity of survival. During the Anglo-Spanish War, the number of English sailors serving on Spanish vessels increased, driven in part by Spain’s demand for English navigational expertise and intelligence-gathering skills. Nonetheless, these mariners often faced mistrust and suspicion from their Spanish hosts, as well as financial hardship and the psychological strain. The article also demonstrates that English and Irish priests played a key role in aiding their adaptation and protection, while also drawing upon the mariners’ expertise to support clandestine operations and contribute to invasion plans aimed at the Catholic restoration of England.