In the first heady days of independence, the PCA quickly re-entered public political space. The ferocious state repression had left its ranks severely depleted through arrest, internment, imprisonment and death; some Communists had joined the FLN. The PCA had suffered extremely heavy losses relative to its size. Nonetheless the moment was politically fluid, and young people wanted to discuss Algeria’s future development. Disenchanted with the FLN’s lack of democracy and interested in socialism, some of these were attracted to the PCA. For the FLN’s factionalised leadership, any potential opposition was a threat. This included the PCA, which was showing signs of reviving and which stressed its intention to continue as an autonomous organisation. When the FLN banned the PCA on 29 November 1962 the PCA claimed 8,000 to 10,000 members and sympathisers. The FLN, born to unite the Algerian people through war, had now come full circle. The absolute unity promulgated during the war as necessary for victory became a model for the new Algeria. The army, formed to wage a merciless war premised on this unity, now controlled the party. Force became the arbiter of all matters political – as it had under the militarised French state.

On 25 August 2003, An Bord Pleanala gave the go-ahead for the M3 motorway to be built along the Gabhra valley through the Tara landscape. The circumstances and controversy of this decision have since become emblematic of the loss of compass that characterised 'Celtic Tiger' Ireland. This chapter considers some of the circumstances that permitted a motorway to be built through such a historic landscape. A clash between a new era and old values occurred; the M3 symbolised the knife that would cut the leathery umbilicus tethering bold, new, materially rich Ireland to the corpse of old, impoverished, historically enslaved Ireland. The National Museum of Ireland had publicly queried the position adopted by the National Monuments Service (NMS) over Carrickmines Castle. The Carrickmines Castle stood in the way of the part of the South Eastern Route of the M50 motorway in Dublin.

Soil erosion is a major ecological problem in Nigeria in general but particularly in south eastern Nigeria. In addition to being a major issue, the incidence of soil erosion in Nigeria is a long standing problem as it has been a subject for numerous and high level discussions since the beginning of the 20th century. Agricultural practice is one of the suspected causes of soil erosion in the country, yet, concerted efforts are lacking in effectively tackling this menace. One weakness in the process of discovery is linked to the supply of fertilizers. This chapter examines the triple relationship existing among erosion, agricultural practice and access to fertilizers in Nigeria; it equally seeks to analyse the nature of the relationship that should exist among these three phenomena. Finally it calls attention to the role higher education should play in helping t o solve this hydra-headed monster.

This conclusion presents some closing thoughts on concepts discussed in this book. The book looks not just at the female protagonists of a series of trials, but also how they were looked at, 'explained' and categorised by the press and other commentators at the time. Press reports of all the trials paid close attention to the women's appearance, and in relation to the four more significant cases (Maud Allan, Edith Thompson, Marguerite Fahmy and Christabel Russell). Many papers filled their columns with these four women's numerous photographs. All the trials were represented by the press as morality tales. Reports of the Maud Allan trial warned that dangerously mixing sexual perversion, decadence and modernity inevitably spelt treachery. The trials were also sites for the contestation of Britishness/ Englishness. The presence or absence of photographs was one importance difference between the newspapers in their reports of the trials.

This chapter explores body cultures in the British Army in the field of active service. It suggests that a new set of ideals and perceptions operated in theatres of war, which were informed largely by the colonial past. The soldier was considered as physically vulnerable, both to the new environment and to the indigenous people that he encountered there. Thus, an array of techniques and practices emerged in order to protect the British physique. The chapter then explores how the authorities sought to achieve their ideals for men’s bodies in the combat environment. This included a mixture of traditional disciplinary methods and a campaign of health education and propaganda, which encouraged men to look after their own health and fitness. Soldier’s testimonies reveal, however, that men often disregarded official advice, particularly about sexual promiscuity, deciding instead to visit brothels that had been placed out of bounds or not making use of their prophylactic kits. These behaviours were often driven by wider cultural norms and assumptions and well as a desire to satisfy their bodily needs. As such, this chapter reveals the changing nature of military life within the field of active service and the new expectations that men had for their own bodies once released into theatres abroad.

The movement in Scotland was far more coherent, united and politically effective than we hitherto realised, and the Jacobite Juncto apparently commanded the support of a very substantial minority of at least the political nation. Jacobite Scotland might well have provided the French invasion force with the thirty-thousand men the Juncto promised in 1707. There are some moments in history which illuminate their time and place, and test our interpretations of the past, with exceptional intensity. The Entreprise d'Écosse is one of these. Inspired by the rhetoric and ideas of Andrew Fletcher and the earl of Rothes, Scots Jacobites imagined an economically viable and independent Scotland with a constitution that would have turned it into a noble republic with a largely ceremonial monarch. Eighteenth-century Britain ultimately moved in this direction; the Scots Jacobites were far in advance of such developments.

Beginning with Mr Sampath: The Printer of Malgudi (1949) and culminating with The Painter of Signs (1976), the novels of R. K. Narayan's middle period represent his finest achievement. The protagonists of these novels are usually small businessmen in the second asrama of life, whose occupations are contemporary versions of the scribal and priestly roles traditionally undertaken by Tamil brahmins. Narayan's other works include The Guide (1958), Waiting for the Mahatma (1955), The Financial Expert (1952) and The Vendor of Sweets (1967). Though their particular subjects and angles of focalisation vary, the recurrent concern of the middle-period novels is an exploration of the conflicts that occur when seemingly settled Hindu values, usually personified by the protagonist, are challenged by the incursion of alien forces. These novels also demonstrate an investigative approach to the narrativisation of Malgudi.

Bristol was the city where regional WSPU organizer Annie Kenney was based; further out, the elegant spa towns of Baths and Cheltenham were suffrage strongholds. And just outside Bath in imposing Eagle House lived suffragette Mary Blathwayt and her parents. All three Blathwayts wrote daily diaries, offering a rare foot-soldiers’ view of census weekend. Mary herself joined the mass evasion at Lansdown Crescent in Bath, organized by the WSPU. Back at Eagle House, her parents complied with the census ~ and her mother's diary is a rare account of a woman complier. The most daring evader in the Bristol region was Lillian Dove-Willcox, who headed south-west into rural Wiltshire. She spent the night in a caravan somewhere near Salisbury Plain. Her evasion went up from the local enumerator, to the registrar and right up to the top Whitehall civil servant. Meanwhile in Bristol itself, Annie Kenney talked up the census boycott to the local press. She even boated of a caravan, turned into an ‘ark of refuge from the flood of census questions’, driving over Clifton Suspension Bridge. But what does the evidence of the Bristol census schedules tell us now about the real extent of the boycott across the city?

The political positions adopted by Red Action (RA) precipitated as much concern and consternation on the left as it did in those quarters where hostility was entirely predictable. RA had to move beyond a defensive position and onto the offensive. The initial aim was to develop a mobile combat unit to defend the public meetings, gigs and paper sales of any left-wing organisation under threat of attack. The enduring importance of RA might lie elsewhere, as a consequence of its underlying emphasis on proletarian palingenesis; it was an organisation that simply refused to abandon its attachment to the working class. The RA's critique of the revolutionary left are its rejection of the Leninist party model and its vehement rejection of liberal multi-culturalism along with its critique of global communist alternatives. Given RA's critique of the revolutionary left, it is easy to see how accusations of apostasy could gain credence.

Three of R. K. Narayan's novels – Swami and Friends (1935), The Bachelor of Arts (1937) and The English Teacher (1945) – are often grouped together as a kind of loose trilogy about the coming of age of the male protagonist. In Swami and Friends, Malgudi is far more than an anglicized version of South India, and it provides Narayan with a locus that enables him to stage some of the conflicts and conjunctions which characterised the social world in which he had come of age during the latter days of the Raj. The kind of modernity introduced by colonialism figures prominently in the opening sections of The Bachelor of Arts. A concern with gender relations informs every aspect of another novel, The Dark Room (1938).

This chapter investigates commemorations of Scottish history. It focuses on the public, festive, and spectacular forms which have multiplied with the late twentieth-century memory boom. The chapter examines a French festival which commemorates the late medieval Scottish noblemen who fought for the French king. This event, with its bewildering mixture of attractions, was explicitly set up to attract tourists. Many commemorative events recall the two world wars. The chapter provides an overview of the different commemorative events in Europe. It identifies some of the historical periods that have been chosen for commemoration. The chapter ends with a visit to Flanders, where local enthusiasts have erected a monument to the Scottish soldiers who fell in the First World War. It appears that commemorations of the Scottish past can become political statements in specific contexts.

This chapter interrogates the claimed advantages (e.g.) recognition, reconciliation, justice) of the political apology and also considers the claimed disadvantages of the apology (e.g. special pleading, the undermining of a common citizenship identity, a n undermining of national unity). It also considers the mechanisms by which states can try to persuade citizens and the demos of the value of the political apology.

The French military conquest of Algeria was ruthless. Dispossessed of their land, peasants were pushed ever higher into mountainous areas. Many became agricultural workers on European-owned farms, migrant workers in France or moved to urban slums in search of work. By the early twentieth century urban Europeans had fused into a Catholic, albeit often secularised, pied-noir [black-foot] community of manual and whitecollar workers, artisans and shopkeepers. Racist contempt for the indigenous Muslim majority and Jewish minority was intrinsic to pied-noir identity. Thus, the urban proletariat reflected colonial dynamics − rigidly divided between European and Algerian, Christian, Jew and Muslim, living in proximity to and even alongside each other, yet never together. It was this class − as part of a French nation − that Algeria’s early socialists saw as their imagined community.