To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure no-reply@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
This chapter focuses on the Noncooperation Movement (1920–1922) and, in particular, the role played by Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi. The NCM was the largest political movement for swaraj that India had ever seen. As the leader of this movement, Gandhi would demand noncooperators refuse mercy, and if necessary, sacrifice their lives in pursuit of political freedom. For Gandhi, it was only by reclaiming the right to die a political death that the satyagrahi could finally escape the label of the criminal and the category of rebellion. The chapter studies the place of mercy in Gandhian thought by paying close attention to his response to the Amritsar Massacre, his public speeches and writings, and his performance in his trial for sedition in 1922. As I argue, by embracing guilt and rejecting mercy, Gandhi threatened to finally explode the political conditions upon which imperial sovereignty had been organized.
Until 1954 the strategically important Central Highlands were primarily inhabited by some twenty indigenous ethnic groups that the French and Americans collectively referred to as Montagnards or Highlanders. From 1960 the communist National Liberation Front sought to recruit Highlanders, leading to a rapid deterioration of the security situation in the Central Highlands, which in 1961 provoked the deployment of US Special Forces to lead Highlander militias. In combination with discriminatory policies of successive South Vietnamese governments, the militarization of the Highlands spurred the emergence in 1964 of a Highlands autonomy movement known as FULRO. As the Central Highlands became one of the main theaters of war, an attack by communist forces on an American airstrip close to Pleiku in the Central Highlands prompted the bombing campaign known as Operation Rolling Thunder and the landing of US combat troops near Da Nang in 1965. After a decade of forced resettlement and displacement of Highlanders, it was the silent complicity of FULRO militia and indigenous populations around the Highlands city of Ban Me Thuot that ensured the element of surprise in the attack by regular North Vietnamese cavalry in March 1975, triggering the collapse of the Republic of Vietnam one month later.
This paper analyses the role of emotive appeals in official Umayyad and Abbasid documents that have some persuasive function. The documents all represent power hierarchies in which one party is subject to the other’s authority. Whether they are higher or lower in the social hierarchy, the authors seek to get what they want by invoking a bond beyond the mere utilitarian. Sometimes affectionate language is used, but more frequently they speak of piety and moral goodness. This paper argues that, by invoking a shared notion of pious morality and godliness, the authors seek to create an emotional bond between people in different places in the social hierarchy. This enables us to nuance our understanding of medieval Islamic governance beyond brute power and coercion, or mere economic justice. Rather, the notion of justice also involved moral goodness, goodwill, affection, loyalty, and willing compliance with one’s role, either as a patron or a protégé.
This chapter gives an overview of the destruction and transformation of South Vietnam during the war, and especially of the ramifications of the American military presence and its firepower, as well as of the American economic aid that kept the homefront afloat. In the rural areas, the American presence depopulated the countryside and compelled peasants to flee in a “forced draft urbanization and modernization” wave. In the urban areas, it initiated an economic boom, creating a more prosperous middle class, and a more robust entrepreneurial sector dominated by overseas Chinese allied with the military. Overnight, it also created a large service sector that rose to cater to the needs of its military personnel, and the economic rise of this group of formerly underclass people inflicted stress on South Vietnam’s traditional society. This society – and its culture – was further transformed and strained by the introduction of American consumer goods and lifestyle. The American presence also changed the political map, handing the South Vietnamese military unparalleled political power which a fractious political body could not challenge. As the American presence drew to a close, this entire social, military, political, and economic edifice began to crack and eventually collapsed in 1975.
This chapter analyzes what New York Times correspondent David Halberstam called “a war within a war,” the conflict between journalists who reported about the deficiencies of the Saigon government or the US war effort in Vietnam and administration officials in the Kennedy, Johnson, and Nixon administrations who considered those stories myopic or malicious. It argues that news media coverage of the Vietnam War rankled presidents not because it was slanted or sensational but because it showed the hard realities, high costs, and inconvenient truths of a controversial war. As polls revealed declining popular support for the US war effort, it became politically expedient for Johnson and Nixon to blame the news media – and especially the television networks – for public discontent. The “war within the war” has had enduring legacies. The efforts of Kennedy, Johnson, and Nixon to discredit the reporting of television journalists, prominent columnists, and newspaper correspondents established precedents that a later generation of government officials has used in 21st-century battles over “fake news.” Like so much of the US experience in Vietnam, the disputes over the reporting of the war remain part of the present, even as they recede further into the past.
On January 30, 2022, Northern Ireland observed the 50th anniversary of Bloody Sunday. On that day in 1972, the British Army opened fire on a group of unarmed protesters in Derry, killing 13 and wounding an additional 15. Bloody Sunday was a pivotal moment during the 30 years of conflict in Northern Ireland known as the Troubles, a day widely considered a ‘watershed in British-Irish history’. And while 50 years have passed since this dark day, Bloody Sunday remains vivid in the collective memory of the small country. Considering the cultural and social significance of Bloody Sunday, I sought to answer a simple yet deceptively complicated question: does this still matter? In pursuing this answer, I aimed to understand how journalists and news outlets chose to mark and remember the anniversary in their January and February 2022 coverage. First, I present an overview of Bloody Sunday and its historical role as a catalyst for the three decades of the Troubles. Then, I review relevant memory studies literature in order to understand the role that commemorative news media play in the process of remembering in conflict and post-conflict environments. I then introduce my three research questions and methods before finally discussing the results of my analysis. I found that Bloody Sunday continues to be invoked against British colonialism, that key details of the day remain contested even now, and that the press presented Bloody Sunday as part of a globalised narrative of war-time atrocities.
The 1968 Tet Offensive proved to be the turning point of the Vietnam War, and its effects were far-reaching. In late January, the combined forces of the People’s Army of Vietnam and the People’s Liberation Armed Forces launched a massive offensive in South Vietnam, striking near simultaneously at 5 of 6 autonomous cities, 36 of 44 province capitals, 72 of 245 district towns, and 23 airfields/bases. Despite intelligence indicators that predicted a major enemy buildup, the United States and its South Vietnamese allies were taken by surprise at the scope and ferocity of the communist attacks. The allies recovered quickly; in the bitter fighting that followed into the early fall months, the communists were soundly defeated at the tactical level and failed to achieve any of their battlefield objectives. However, the fact that the enemy had pulled off such a widespread offensive and caught the allies by surprise ultimately contributed to a psychological victory for the communists at the strategic level. The Tet Offensive set into motion the events that would lead to the election of Richard Nixon, the long and bloody US withdrawal from Southeast Asia, and ultimately the fall of South Vietnam.
By recovering fragments of the political negotiations that took place between native peoples and European colonizing powers in the settler colonies of Canada and Australia, this chapter argues that treaty-making was central to the ability of Indigenous peoples to assert the rights they wanted, rather than those they were granted, against imperial and colonial states. In settler colonies, colonial states used the principles of protection and assimilation to establish the legal status of Indigenous peoples to create them as subjects within a particular legal order that set the place of everyone in relation to the sovereign. Without a treaty, Indigenous peoples were effectively placed in a position where they could only claim rights that were compatible with the aims of protection in the nineteenth century, and so were defined by the colonial authorities. Yet the language of ‘rights’ could restrict, or even distort, some of the political arguments that Indigenous peoples wanted to assert, for example in relation to hunting and fishing rights that Europeans understood in terms of access to resources in order to secure their subsistence.
From the 1950s through 1975, American women served in the Vietnam War through the US armed services, the American Red Cross, and US government agencies. Deficiencies in record-keeping have made it difficult to know exactly how many American women deployed to Vietnam, but estimates suggest that about 8,000 to 10,000 women served military tours, while 25,000 or more went to Vietnam in civilian capacities. Although a few women went to Vietnam before the United States committed combat troops and remained in country until 1975, the majority of American women who served in either military or civilian capacities arrived between 1965, the year of the first deployment of ground troops, and 1973, when the last US combat troops departed. Women were not assigned to infantry or other forward units, but they experienced the trauma of war through their work with US servicemen. In particular, nurses and Red Cross workers saw what combat did to soldiers, yet the nature of their jobs and the expectation that they nurture wounded and traumatized servicemen required them to put aside their own mental and emotional injuries that the war inflicted.
Noting the proliferation of human rights leagues at the turn of the twentieth century, and their significance up to the interwar period, this chapter argues that such leagues built on an organizational and discursive repertoire built over the course of the prior century by three transnational movements above all: the abolitionist, women’s suffrage, and peace movements. These movements shared a recognition of a systemic link between the rule of law, humanitarianism, and political participation by the people, and they sought to realize these connected values through new forms of association and mobilization. These movements shared some personnel, organizing strategies, and rhetoric. Although the language of rights and more particularly “human rights” or “droits de l’homme” was relatively marginal to these movements, especially outside France, their members did invoke human rights both to make their case on behalf of each of these humanitarian aims and also to draw connections between them, particularly between the abolition of slavery and women’s emancipation. Peace societies offered another model for bringing together diverse social groups around common political and humanitarian goals. Members of the French Ligue pour la défense des droits de l’homme et du citoyen, founded in 1898 in the context of the Dreyfus affair, as well as its provincial affiliates and human rights leagues it inspired in other countries, drew not only or even primarily on the legacy of the few prior organizations dedicated specifically to rights, but more generally on the example of these three humanitarian social movements.
This chapter will address the various peoples, polities, individuals, movements, and the social-political and economic conditions of Nigeria before the colonial era (1900). It will also go over the processes that spurred ongoing transformations in the complex patchwork of political, cultural, and religious entities that dominated what is known today as Nigeria. This chapter names five principal events as the primary catalysts for these transformations. They are the abolition of the slave trade and the switch to legitimate trade; the Sokoto Jihad; the decline and eventual collapse of the Old Oyo Empire; freed captives returning from Sierra Leone along with the arrival of missionaries; and the advent of colonial rule. These events would result in an environment of instability which gave way to new powers prompted by shifting demands from an increasingly industrialized and interconnected world. The chapter explores the social and economic shifts that resulted from these political changes and how these social and economic processes impacted the political changes in question. Finally, the chapter gives specific examples of lifestyle changes experienced by millions during this period, such as changes in clothing, religious practices, and diet.
The Vietnamese communist leadership displayed a remarkable degree of ingenuity and resourcefulness in its quest to drive out the Americans, finish off the regime in Saigon, and win the conflict by achieving national reunification under its exclusive aegis. At times, it proved callous to the extreme, making choices it understood might result in massive death and suffering for its people. Increasingly reliant over time upon military and other aid from socialist allies, most notably China and the Soviet Union, it still jealously guarded its autonomy, refusing even to consult those allies about major strategic matters. The audacity and temerity of the Hanoi Politburo were matched only by its impenetrability and staunchness. In the end, it prevailed over its enemies owing less to their shortcomings than to the merits of its masterfully crafted and carefully calibrated strategy of “struggle” on three separate yet closely intertwined fronts.
This chapter gives a comprehensive overview of Nigeria’s colonial period. First, it defines the three distinct eras of Nigeria’s history (the colonial period is the second era). Next, it details the malicious circumstances behind the acquisition and formation of Nigeria at the hands of British authorities, the motivation of said authorities, and the reactions from Nigeria’s Indigenous groups. After colonization, the chapter describes how colonial forces governed their new territory, utilizing oppressive tactics in conjunction with local power structures via indirect rule to maintain control. Nigeria’s subjugation enabled colonial authorities to implement consequential political, economic, educational, and medical reforms. These changes incorporated Nigeria into a centralized and globalized sociopolitical system at the expense of traditional institutions. This chapter also details the gradual changes and dismantling of Nigeria’s colonial system, beginning in earnest during and immediately following World War II. Specifically, it will detail the ideological shifts that fostered various nationalist movements that demanded independence. These calls for greater autonomy would culminate in the ratification of the 1960 constitution, which gave Nigeria its independence, thus ending its colonial period.
This chapter examines the aversion to theories and programs of natural rights in much mainstream nineteenth-century British political discourse. Following on the heels of their Enlightenment and revolutionary efflorescence, writers in Great Britain articulated various critiques of natural rights philosophies and declarations. Moving from early critics such as Burke and Bentham to later Victorian writers and statesmen – most importantly, J. S. Mill – the chapter traces several threads of skepticism toward natural rights. British writers, it argues, were preoccupied less with the unsound conceptual foundations of natural rights theories than with the perceived consequences of belief in natural rights, which was seen as leading in anarchic, destabilizing, and antinomian directions. Natural rights platforms, it was contended, appealed to passion, ignored context and the weighing of costs and benefits, and undermined both the rule of law and state authority. In addition, natural rights theories were perceived by critics to be connected to a range of worrying trends (democratization and the rise of socialism, among others). Natural rights theories, furthermore, stood in stark contrast to the utilitarian and historicist attitudes towards law and government which prevailed in Britain during these decades. Finally, the conclusion offers a glance at nineteenth-century France, contrasting the loyalty toward natural rights across the Channel with British hostility, and revealing that many of the fears that Britons articulated about the dissemination of natural rights ideas were harbored by the French with regard to the spread of consequentialism.
The British State intervened in the Port of London in 1800. It did so again a hundred years later by appointing a Royal Commission, which provided the basis for eventual reform in 1908. The immediate reason for the Royal Commission was a dock proposal to abolish free entry to docks by river. But the wider context was long-standing, loudly voiced, shipping company grievances about river governance, licensing of lighterage and compulsory pilotage. The Commission’s conclusion that London should have a port authority was generally accepted. However, issues of constitution and compensation bedevilled the Conservative attempt to legislate. In the event, it was a Liberal government, with all-party support, which established the Port of London Authority, effectively nationalising London’s port. In an ironic coda, the port unions soon discovered their new public employer to be a more formidable opponent than their dock company predecessors had ever been.