This chapter discusses the topic of medical authorities' invasion of individual bodies in detail on the basis of the case of Anna Justine Jumas. Anna refused to subject herself to a forensic assessment of her sex and her husband claimed that she was not a woman at all. Ambroise Tardieu, Amédée Courty and Philippe Jalabert agreed that a marriage between persons of the same sex was no marriage at all and should be radically nullified. It then argues that the pressure on Jumas to make her body available for medical examination was not an isolated instance of pressure on a disobedient woman. The discussion of the Jumas case in the forensic medical and legal literature at the time clearly shows that the right to establish a person's sex by means of coercing them into an invasive medical examination was by no means self-evident.

Preparations in the north-west for the reception of ‘war refugees’ began immediately after the invasion of Holland on 10 May 1940, with local authorities throughout Lancashire and Cheshire being called upon by the Ministry of Health to provide hospitality for an estimated 20,000 refugees. Interpreters throughout the region, it was said, would be provided by the Manchester Dutch Society. The story of the Dutch orphans is more than a narrative of heroism and salvation, although it is certainly that. It is also a reminder of the tragic dispersal and the destruction of German and Austrian Jewish families.

This chapter develops the theoretical analysis byproviding an historical account of the developmentof wage labour, in a long duration account from thebeginning of the 19th century through to mid-20thcentury in the United Kingdom. It shows how newforms of coercive labour developed with industrialcapitalism through employment and welfare law. Itargues that state power, through law and fiscalregimes, conditions the exchange between labour andcapital. As such, it critiques the abstraction ofthe economy as a separate sphere and discipline,proposing a co-evolutionary account of economicorganisation, law and fiscal regimes.

In September 1967, Dr Heinz Kroch, the German-Jewish refugee from Berlin who thirty years earlier had founded the Lankro Chemical Company in Eccles, was presented by the Mayor of Eccles with a casket and scroll to honour his admission to the Roll of Freemen of the Borough. The whole episode may perhaps be seen as a continuance of those ritual exchanges, engineered on both sides, which, from the mid-nineteenth century, sought to define the relationship between Manchester Jewry and the civic authorities of the locality. In 1967 Eccles, a time and a place troubled by newer waves of immigration, the corporation and the refugee were effectively laying claim to a heritage of reciprocity. For its humanity, the town had been rewarded by the contributions of the stranger; by his contributions, the stranger had confirmed his right to be British; a Jewish German had become an Eccles cake.

In 2004, the Republic of Ireland became one of just three European Union member states (along with the UK and Sweden) that agreed to allow unrestricted immigrants from the ten new EU-accession states. Also in 2004, the Irish government introduced a referendum on citizenship. The contemporaneous government decision in 2004 to engineer rapid, large-scale immigration from within the EU barely caused a political ripple. Arguably, what is being harmonised through the EU is not one single integration paradigm but a number of social, institutional, and political ones. The harmonisation of integration has emerged in a context of multiculturalism writ large, where the politics of incommensurability — the Europe of continual wars and, in Ireland, sectarian conflict predicated on the religious and political divisions of the Reformation — has been tamed, but by no means eliminated. Developmental modernity by no means constitutes an end of Irish history. The developmental case for large-scale immigration evaporated overnight. What remains, in essence, is the yet-to-be-assessed social cost of rapid and large-scale immigration as one of several challenges to social cohesion.

This chapter explores ideological, normative, and empirical claims about social cohesion that have a bearing on Irish responses to immigration. It draws on Emile Durkheim's classic sociological account of social cohesion to examine some of the underlying presumptions that have come to be influential in the Irish case. An influential governance security perspective worked to circumscribe state commitments to integration. The subtext here was the implicit definition of social cohesion in terms of the existing bounded community; its underlying normative presumptions are examined using Durkheim's concept of the ‘social fact’. The second proposition considered here is Robert Putnam's assertion that immigration undermines social cohesion. This chapter also discusses the findings of a study which compared ‘socially included’ immigrants with relatively low levels of social capital but high levels of human capital with ‘socially excluded’ Irish neighbours who nevertheless had high levels of social capital. Interpretations of the challenge to social cohesion depend on whether this is defined in terms of social capital (trust and reciprocity) or social inclusion (socio-economic and human capital terms).

In 1933, the Zionist movement in Manchester was already fifty years old. The first Manchester Jewish organisation to promote the colonisation of what was then Ottoman Palestine was founded in 1884, the first body seeking the creation of a Jewish state in 1896. By 1900, the community had generated twelve Zionist formations, representing most facets of the international Zionist movement. Manchester became the home of the Russian émigré, Chaim Weizmann, already a leading player on the international Zionist scene formed the ‘Manchester School’ of Zionists which Weizmann gathered around him during his Manchester years. This group included young men and women—Simon Marks, Israel Sieff, Leon Simon, Harry Sacher, Harry Dagut, and Rebecca Sieff—who were to become key figures amongst the leaders and publicists of British Zionism. It was with their backing that Weizmann was able to negotiate the Balfour Declaration.

This chapter explores how the migrants understood their homes and what the migrants' home-making practices revealed about their identities and their lifestyle ambitions. It moves on from the wider discussion of property selection that has characterized previous research on the British in rural France, to reveal the role of individual biographies, histories and desires in shaping the home. In particular, it opens the door on three different households, putting the material culture of these homes on public display. The various examples presented in the chapter demonstrate that while the home could be the site of new identities and ways of living, it could also be used as continuation of their lives before migration, allowing the migrants to retreat into the comfort and familiarity of their home in what remain unfamiliar social and physical environments.

In earlier years, the problem for the Quakers was that of reconciling their objective of international harmony with the rescue of Jews from Germany, one of the chief national fields of their welfare services and missionary endeavour. In their eyes, too, the rise of Nazism, and the economic crisis and sense of national humiliation which had helped bring it about, were largely a consequence of Britain's treatment of Germany at the Versailles conference. Germany's reaction to this treatment, even if part of that reaction was an unacceptable anti-Semitism, was a natural consequence. The Manchester Quakers sought to retain a friendly relationship with Germany, including an annual exchange of students, until the outbreak of war. While the London Quakers were prepared from 1933 to lend organised support to refugees seeking a way out, their Manchester co-religionists were reluctant to follow suit.

A leading Manchester proponent of pacifism was Lionel Cowan, a Manchester Jew who in 1929 was converted to the cause at a meeting he attended at the Friends Meeting House in Mount Street on the evils of war. His subsequent efforts on behalf of refugees may be seen in part as a result of his reading of the pacifist creed, an unusual ideology for a man brought up in an orthodox Jewish home; in part as a result of his own background in a family of immigrant origin; in part as the consequence of the personal links he established in the early 1930s, largely through the peace movement, with Jewish families in Nazi Germany. Most of all, however, they were the outcome of an emotional empathy with the suffering which had triggered his pacifism, which informed his Judaism and transformed the influences at work on him into determined action.

In applying immigration law, the British government made the occasional concession and its agents at the ports of entry their occasional mistake. The British public had apparently become persuaded by 1937 that the regulations contained in the Alien Acts represented a valid and minimal defence of the ‘national interest’. The temporary and conditional admission of the Basque children suggests the very limited impact which even as potentially explosive a mix of international events, popular sentiment and voluntary action, such as that which came to exist in the spring of 1937, might exert on public as well as governmental perceptions of the national interest. It seems clear from the imagery and language surrounding discussions of the Basque children that notions of Britain's humanitarian tradition floated freely within the whole of Britain's political spectrum.

Much of the information and research on which this book was built slightly predates the economic crisis of 2009. Immigration in the Irish case was driven by economic growth and, like other post-boom challenges being reckoned with in hard times, the integration of immigrants cannot be deferred without imposing considerable future social costs upon Irish society. The first major integration challenge is to move from begrudging to proactive integration through citizenship. Inclusive naturalisation, a policy of turning ‘strangers into citizens’, would create further knock-on incentives for political integration. The second major integration challenge is to recognise that integration is best addressed through social policy rather than by means of security policy. What is crucially needed is the cognitive shift that recognises the relationship between social inclusion for citizens and integration of immigrants. The third major integration challenge is to invest in the capabilities of immigrants no less than in those of Irish citizens. A fourth major integration challenge relates to the inclusion of immigrants in decision making in the various domains within which integration occurs.

The Quakers were the only organised body of Christians in Manchester to take collective measures for the rescue of the victims of Nazism. Individuals of the Christian faith—Methodists, Congregationalists and Unitarians—were to be found in refugee support organisations and amongst the advocates of tolerance towards refugees, but the branches of Christianity to which they belonged engaged in no concerted action on the refugees' behalf. For the Roman Catholic Church in the Salford Diocese, it was a matter of principle. Whatever the feelings of their congregants, the hierarchy of the Church in Salford was disinclined to put itself out in the rescue of refugees, particularly those of Jewish origin. The response of the Roman Catholic Church to refugees was particularly shaped by the Church's response to the rise of Fascism.