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A Roman stylus tablet discovered at Vindolanda in 2014 preserves the partial text of a deed-of-sale for an enslaved person, only the second such document from Britain. This article presents the results of multiple techniques used to reveal the almost illegible text and proposes a restoration of the format of the document and its lost content, based on more complete examples from Italy and around the Empire. We examine the late first-century archaeological and historical context and suggest that the purchaser is probably the prefect Iulius Verecundus. We consider other possible evidence for the servi of the commanders at Vindolanda, for example in another hard-to-decipher stylus tablet which may be related to their travel. The deed-of-sale provides a new type of testimony for slavery at Vindolanda and adds to knowledge of enslavement in the Roman military.
The present article is a study of Ottoman military recruitment attempts of Circassians in the northwestern Caucasus. It examines the process of realizing a Circassian highlander army and the administration of the Anapa fortress during the time of two different fortress commanders. Focusing on the deeds of these two pashas regarding Circassian recruitment and their social background, this study highlights the Ottoman-Circassian relations and the dynamics of loyalty and pragmatism. Specifically, the role of provincial networks in ruling the border fortresses and regional politics in the Eastern Black Sea have been underlined within the context of the Russian-Ottoman rivalry over the Caucasus. Rebutting the importance of the origins of Ottoman officers for Ottoman borderland politics, this study argues that the contribution of provincial notables to the Ottoman civilizing mission and the Circassian army project in the early nineteenth century has been indispensable to the realization of Ottoman establishment in the Caucasus.
Achmet Borumborad's arrival in Ireland in the 1760s, during which he claimed to be a Turk fleeing political persecution in Istanbul, quickly propelled him to prominence, making him one of the country's most distinguished figures. His published works and the establishment of a Turkish bath in Dublin, supported by the Irish parliament, solidified his reputation. However, Achmet's good fortune proved short-lived upon the discovery that he was, in fact, an Irishman. Consequently, he retreated from the public eye, and his life story has become one of the most widely known tales of corruption that contributed to the dissolution of the Irish parliament. This paper explores the extraordinary account of Achmet through previously unused documents, offering not only fascinating insights into social life in eighteenth-century Ireland but also intriguing revelations regarding perceptions of the Ottoman Empire and ‘Turkish fashion’ during this era.
Despite Jenny Curtis and Marius Schoon's defiant enthusiasm, the banning orders did eventually take their toll. When ‘Marius received a tip that he was going to be arrested’, due to his communication with Breytenbach while at Pretoria Central, he decided that his only viable option was to flee the country. Consequently, Jenny Curtis decided that they would need to get married straight away ‘so that, should Marius be caught and imprisoned, she would be able to visit him’. However, figuring out how to marry two people who were under banning orders was by no means straightforward. As Jack Curtis explains, ‘This presented a knotty problem. A magistrates’ court was out of the question for the wedding, and any minister of one of the established churches was likely to hedge at being party to an illegal gathering.’ In fact, as early as March of 1977, both Curtis and Schoon applied to the minister of justice for an exemption to marry. In a provocative attempt to give these applications additional weight, the couple had their letters hand-delivered by Helen Suzman, the Progressive Party MP, who could add a personal touch to the appeal. Suzman attached a note: ‘You once said in the House that you are “a kindly man” – maybe you will react accordingly to the requests I was told were contained in the letters.’ In addition to requesting an exemption to marry, the couple also requested permission to visit Marius's sister in Natal, and ‘Schoon also requested a variation of his restrictions to enable him to live with Curtis at her address’. Unsurprisingly, none of these requests for exemptions was granted. Even though the applications were submitted during April, the minister of justice made no reply whatsoever, through all of April and May. Therefore, the couple decided that the wedding needed to proceed illegally. On 3 June 1977, Jenny Curtis and Marius Schoon were married.
Fortunately, the Rev. Theo Kotzé had retained his license as a marriage officer … Our good friend Mary Taylor had given Jenny a key to her flat in a nearby suburb; this would be the venue; Joyce and I would be the witnesses and would go first to the flat; each of the other parties would then arrive separately by diverse routes … Marius arrived in a well pressed lounge suit, Jenny in a smart frock with her well-beloved poodle which, in the middle of the ceremony, managed to wrap his leash around her skirt.
This article explores the trajectories and narratives of people who have exited marginalized urban spaces in Nairobi to move through other social spaces in the city, or abroad. Claiming to belong to the ‘ghetto’, an idiom that refers to both a local space of exclusion and a globalized cultural and political imaginary, our interlocutors embrace the contradictions of this belonging in their everyday experiences. The careers they have built in different fields (art, activism, sport, academia) identify them as figures of social success and make them question their relationships with those around them. Defining their aspirations as intimately linked with the ghetto, but perceiving it as a strong constraint, they are not cutting ties with the place they come from. Drawing on qualitative fieldwork that pays attention to both their self-narratives and their writing, we propose the notion of ‘small boundaries’ to describe how social and spatial mobility from the ghetto produces, for each individual in a different way, an intimate cleavage within the self. We then propose to unpack this specific self as a configuration of three types of distancing (social, spatial and self-distancing) that allow both their aspirations and their obligations to coexist in everyday life.
The locally made colour-coated ware vessel known as the Colchester Vase is argued to be a commissioned piece recording a performance in the town. The inscription on the vessel, cut pre-firing, names individual arena performers depicted en barbotine. One name, Memnon, is argued to be a ‘stage name’ taken from a protagonist in the Trojan war. The connection of another combatant, Valentinus, to the 30th legion is re-considered as evidence for gladiators linked to the Roman army. The Vase's final use was as a cremation urn. Osteological and isotopic analysis reveals the cremated remains to be those of a non-local male of 40+ years; unlikely to be one of the performers, he may nevertheless have been closely connected to the event.
What is the origin of the Frente Amplio? While most contributions focus on party-building strategies and the electoral success of the Left, scholars have overlooked the previous process of party formation. This paper studies the Frente Amplio's formation in 1971 as a case of complete electoral coordination between extant parties, factions and individual left-wing politicians who understood the electoral inefficiencies of competing with each other. Making use of a historical narrative, our account complements other approaches, suggesting the critical role of electoral coordination, favoured by two systemic conditions (electoral stability and programmatic politics) that eased the process of party formation.
Recent authorities emphasize the longstanding inclusion of the Isle of Man in the territorial extent of English/British parliamentary legislation. This aligns with views of the territorial ambition of ministers of the crown and members of parliament in their operation of parliament's role in receipt of petitions and especially in the shaping of legislation. While contemporary authorities on Channel Island law, especially those in the islands themselves, are more cautious about the territorial extent of such legislation, it remains, at least by implication, the norm to assert that all of these territories, now Crown Dependencies, could be included by express provision in English/British statute law, and that there might be strong assumptions of inclusion even when they were not expressly named. The evidence for the period before 1640 does not tend to support these arguments. Instead, the Anglo-centric instincts of the English parliament from the mid-fourteenth century to the 1530s are clear. And even in the 1530s and 1540s, in legislation spurred by jurisdictional and administrative imperatives in ecclesiastical matters, as a result of the Break with Rome, there was only tentative and limited change to the territorial extent of English law.
The Occupation of Japan (1945-1952) sought to democratize the nation’s education system; pupil guidance was expected to play a key part of this process. American reformers promoted new guidance practices (e.g., the comprehensive collection of students’ personal data, guidance interventions based on the case-study method, an expanded homeroom curriculum) that emphasized the psychological adjustment—translated as tekio (適応)—of students to school and society in a new Japan. By tracing the evolution of prewar and postwar Japanese guidance discourse, this study examines how American pupil guidance’s emphasis on student adjustment interacted with, and transformed, twentieth-century Japanese education. Drawing from prewar, Occupation-era and post-independence sources, the essay explores three points. First, by comparing prewar life guidance with Occupation-era and post-independence pupil guidance, it emphasizes the important changes effected by tekio-oriented guidance during the late 1940s. Second, by examining the way these practices related to Occupation’s educational democratization, it explores how their psychological approach to democracy defined—and arguably constrained—the dynamism of this broader project. Lastly, the work discusses who supported and opposed this new tekio discourse. American authorities succeeded in garnering the support of many elites in Japanese education (e.g., Ministry of Education officials, leading academics), but other educators remained skeptical.