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This chapter analyses Portuguese humanitarian operations in Africa during the Great War. By focusing on Angola and Mozambique, two Portuguese colonies directly affected by military operations, it demonstrates the global impact of industrialised killing as well as humanitarian altruism in the early twentieth century. During the First World War, Portuguese troops carried out the most important military operation outside their country’s borders in the first half of the twentieth century. This chapter explores Portuguese humanitarian mobilisation in support of Portugal’s participation in the First World War. It discloses the efforts made by individuals and institutions, like the Portuguese Red Cross or the Portuguese Women’s Crusade, to convey the extent of suffering on African battlefields – then on the periphery of a networked world – to a Portuguese home front. Using Portuguese involvement as a case study, the chapter investigates the process of humanitarian mobilisation for distant suffering, analyses the humanitarian link forged between home front and battle front, probes the relationship between benefactors and war victims (civilian and military), and reconstructs the transnational and imperial networks through which these humanitarian campaigns were pursued. In all, the chapter shows that the relief provided to Angola and Mozambique was a major factor in mobilising Portuguese society for war. As such, wartime aid was never impartial or neutral but was shaped by military necessities, moral convictions, racial hierarchies, and cultural affinities.
This chapter unveils a number of continuities between the Allied blockade effort during and immediately after the First World War and the activities and institutions of humanitarian relief that developed along with the postwar peace. This chapter unveils notable connections between these two seemingly diametrically opposed efforts, one that aimed to cut off the target from all international trade, the other that aimed to enhance a targeted country’s access to international supplies of food and other critically needed resources. These continuities included many of the people involved in both policies, with former blockaders dominating the surprisingly effective Supreme Economic Council (SEC) during the Paris Peace Conference. As exemplified by the SEC, the ‘inter-Allied’ aspect of the blockade would become a critical model for some international humanitarian efforts, especially those connected to the nascent League of Nations. As this chapter shows, postwar humanitarian relief efforts rested upon a specific understanding of the importance of globalisation. This new sensibility about global trade developed during the steady expansion of the Allied economic war against Germany between 1914 and 1918. Rather than unveiling the dark side of postwar humanitarianism in Central Europe, this chapter suggests the existence of a constructive side of an Allied blockade often seen in purely destructive terms.
Far from being passive spectators of the First World War, the neutrals were deeply involved in the conflict, particularly with humanitarian aid. Thousands of private, semi-private, and state organisations assisted victims of war in almost all belligerent countries. These organisations did not act in isolation but played a prominent role in forging a broader transnational humanitarian movement. This chapter is the first to explore Great War humanitarianism through the lens of several neutrals or, more precisely, their competition. In fact, although humanitarian needs were endless, humanitarianism in the era of the Great War constituted a kind of ‘market’ where different actors competed for political and symbolic gains. This was apparent in divergent views on humanitarianism and its mission as well as in concrete humanitarian rivalries in the field. The chapter explores the interplay of humanitarian organisations and initiatives from neutral countries investigating the nature of their interaction, the co-ordination and cross-fertilisation of their practices and knowledge, and the roots of their humanitarian competition. To analyse these interactions, and unlike the rising number of studies on neutrals, this chapter adopts a comparative and transnational approach. On the basis of existing literature and archival research, it brings together the perspective of neutral states, their national Red Cross societies, and the ICRC and demonstrates how crucial competition was to Great War humanitarianism.
This chapter describes the historical survey of superior responsibility. It examines who may be subjected to the doctrine, seeking to ascertain whether the concept of superior is a fixed one, or whether it fluctuates in accordance with certain identifiable parameters. The chapter also examines the existence of a meaningful difference between the terms 'command' and 'control'. Army officers do not argue that the doctrine is misconceived, they simply refuse to subject their military to it, as far as this is possible without showing forthright contempt for international humanitarian law. Incarceration of a culprit, after judicial ascertainment of the underlying crimes and motives, serves in the minds of the victims to restore truth and ultimately allow them to continue their lives. The chapter considers the procedural aspects of the doctrine under what circumstances natural persons are deemed to possess such authority over others as to incur criminal liability for their crimes.
This chapter focuses on the aftermath of an ethnographic account of the lawyer–client relationship under criminal legal aid in England. The fieldwork involved the researcher spending a year at one court centre, accompanying three local legal firms as a participant-observer. Over the course of the fieldwork, the researcher developed strong relationships with the lawyers being observed, extending to social events and leisure time. The chapter centres on how the researcher navigated the relationships with the lawyers who were being researched, exploring some advantages and disadvantages of developing bonds with participants of research. In particular, it focuses on the impact these relationships have when it comes to analysing, writing up and publishing the research. A central issue considered in this chapter is how the researcher dealt with the situation in which he felt compelled to comment critically on the work of the lawyers with whom he had grown friendly. The chapter looks at the difficulties of balancing being honest to the research with the pressures that come from interpersonal relationships, which were especially prominent in this study that became known for taking a negative line about the practices of the lawyers being studied. The chapter also looks at the fallout in terms of critical commentary about the author’s research among the communities being studied and difficulties in recruiting from these communities for future studies. The chapter will be of value in helping those planning future research projects to consider the relationship dynamics they seek to foster in their research.
Since the early 2000s, the government of the United Arab Emirates (U.A.E.) first elevated and then eliminated statelessness as a policy issue through a series of unconventional population management policies. The centrepiece of this effort was the U.A.E.’s mass purchase of so-called ‘economic citizenship’ passports from the African country of Comoros for at least 50,000 stateless residents. In keeping with the official narrative about statelessness as a spurious status, the stateless were allowed to ‘reveal’ their ‘true’ nationality first. For those who failed to claim one, the U.A.E. assigned Comoros nationality. Through exhaustive interviews, application forms, compilations of documentary evidence, and DNA sample collections in the fall of 2008, the U.A.E. vetted the future ‘Comorians’. Were it not for its exclusionary outcomes, the process could be termed a statelessness determination procedure or even a mapping exercise. Having concluded that the registrants were indeed without access to documentary proof of citizenship, the U.A.E. provided this diverse grouping of residents with a form of citizenship documentation, a passport, issued by the Union of Comoros. Thus, through a transactional mass ‘naturalisation’ the U.A.E. convened a new Comorian ‘minority’. After presenting the historical and political context of how this happened, this chapter discusses the process as an example of governance of statelessness through ‘legal fiction’. While the U.A.E. created a mechanism for ‘eliminating’ statelessness, the lived experience of statelessness (or, the limbo of non-incorporation) in the U.A.E. remained intact. This experience reveals the pitfalls of any project to end statelessness merely nominally.
The Southern Chinese martial arts are typically organised into lineages and ‘families’ through which very specific techniques of the body and practices are transmitted over subsequent generations and between far-flung places, thereby developing specific sense of belonging. Wing Chun Kung Fu is a popular system that has been subject to disparate social scientific studies pertaining to identity, embodiment and pedagogy. This confessional tale considers Spatz’s work (2015) advocating the exploration of technical knowledge via practice-based research. The chapter challenges the notion of a researcher clearly being able to leave a field (the Kung Fu family) in which they have been totally embedded through their mode of embodiment and ways of moving. The chapter thus outlines the fact that a fieldwork site is part of the constitution of a practitioner-researcher-instructor. Using his own experience as a martial arts ethnographer since 2004, the author charts his research on/through bodily knowledge via his main martial art of Wing Chun that resulted in two follow-up studies. He conducted these studies with increased geographical distance from his own teacher (sifu), seniors (sihing) and school (kwoon) in Britain when he moved to Mexico as an independent researcher. From the lessons gleaned from these two pragmatic research endeavours, alongside subsequent fieldwork in other martial arts contexts, the author argues that ethnographers cannot exit a field if that field is within them. Rather than perceiving this as problematic, he suggests that practitioner-researchers can develop scholarship around the skills and knowledge that they have acquired and are transmitting.
This chapter will help readers to identify appropriate methods, approaches and theoretical frameworks for their projects. To support students in framing their projects, this chapter identifies four routes into spatial histories: personal testimony (including diaries, letters and oral histories); focus on a building or built environment; histories that foreground networks; and work that engages with representation of urban space and built environments. In each case, the chapter includes a broad overview of how historians have used this approach, involving the questions they have asked, the methods and theories they have engaged with and sources they have used, citing case studies that demonstrate the ‘nuts and bolts’ of its application.
This chapter provides crucial insights into sexual harassment in the newsroom, while contending with the successes and limits of #MeToo’s impact on this deeply sexist terrain. By locating this moment within a long and fractured history of gendered harassment within journalism, and reading it in the context of the larger women’s movement in the country, it positions #MeToo as responsive to and conditioned by neoliberal governmentality.
Based on the argument developed throughout the book, emancipation is shown to be a process which potentializes relations of commoning in the direction of equality and solidarity. This concluding chapter summarizes the argument and shows how the different forms of spatiality through which contemporary urban form and experience is shaped (territory, public space, housing and object) define possible levels of spatial organization in which inhabited space is potentialized through commoning. In the cases explored in this book, spaces of commoning were actualized not as bounded places but as areas with porous boundaries. The Zapatista territory, the Bon Pastor, and La Polvorilla neighborhoods, the occupied spaces of the squares movement and the alternative learning space developed out of an arrangement of collectively constructed chairs, are all spaces that communicate with their outside. Thus, in conclusion, it is suggested that the image and the experience of the threshold becomes important, both as part of an interpretative effort and as part of an emerging spatial politics of emancipatory commoning. Commoning as a force that challenges enclosure may flourish in open communities which develop by including newcomers. Commoning is a process that gestures towards an emancipating society as long as it becomes metastatic, ever-expanding, and inclusive.
Scholars have debated whether the contemporaneous partition policy in Palestine and India indicates that partition was a British policy agenda at the end of empire. This chapter argues for a more nuanced view. Mountbatten is blamed by some for imposing partition with its ensuing human tragedies. However, when he arrived in India on 22 March 1947 as the last Viceroy, he still hoped to resurrect the Cabinet Mission proposal of the previous year which envisaged a post-imperial order of a united India, albeit one with a weak centre. Documentary evidence overwhelmingly suggests an official reluctance to divide and quit India. Strategic connections between partition in India and Palestine were far less clear cut than scholars have asserted. Partition in both instances could, however, be seen as a means to extricate Britain from conflicts that threatened national prestige and aspirations to retain defence and economic interests after decolonisation. Expectations of ‘neocolonial’ power foundered both on the unanticipated aftermaths of partition in India/Pakistan and Palestine and on Britain’s diminished postwar economic and military power.
The introduction offers some general remarks about John Fletcher’s career and canon, as well as about the reception of the ancient Roman past in the early modern English imagination; it then describes the scope of the book, its aims, and methodology, before illustrating the contents of each chapter. It concludes by arguing that the book seeks to contribute to the fields of Fletcher studies and the reception of classical materials on the early modern stage by offering fresh perspectives on the treatment of source materials in early modern drama, providing correctives to Shakespeare-centric studies of early modern visions of Rome, and intervening in discussions about early modern historiography, gender, collaboration practices, and the overall place of drama within the larger cultural field.
In order to be seen as a full participant in the global system, a person must usually first be recognised as a citizen of a state. In a world in which not every person is a citizen of a state, and in which states exclude people from full membership, this produces contradictions. For example, it means that when a person is locally excluded, this can in fact produce exclusion from recognition as a person in the international system as a whole. This chapter shows how this exclusion can lead to both invisibility and hypervisibility with respect to global governance projects. First, those excluded from citizenship can be rendered invisible in discussions about sustainable development. That is, rather than being merely ‘left behind’, they are in fact ‘left out’ entirely. Meanwhile, the same individuals can be made hypervisible when it comes to migration governance. Policies ostensibly directed at managing migration in fact target people insofar as they do not have the documentary proof that they are eligible for inclusion in a particular state. This means that the work to address the problems associated with statelessness cannot only fall with UNHCR, the agency with a mandate in this area. This work must be done in every area in which this deference to citizenship currently either leaves stateless people out of consideration or makes them targets. Crucially, this work will require the expert participation of people with direct experience of statelessness.