In an essay entitled “Some Europes in Their History,” J. G. A. Pocock describes a sixteenth-century map of Europe composed in the figure of "a crowned woman, whose head was the Iberian Peninsula and whose heart was situated at Prague." What is striking about this map, Pocock observes, is how its authors push “the Baltic as far East and the Black Sea as far North as they dare, hoping to bring them close enough to each other to justify the description of Europe as a continent.” Though it is no more than a peninsula or extension of Asia, the European subcontinent continues to this day to map itself as an autonomous territory demarcated by what Étienne Balibar has called a “great Wall of Europe.”

As a geographic and cultural copula linking the subcontinent of Europe to Asia, Turkey has always been a volatile element of this fantasy, in the figure of the “terrible Turk” produced by Europeans consolidating for themselves a European identity. With the nineteenth-century integration of the Ottoman Empire into the geopolitical network of capitalist modernity, a reciprocal dynamic of identity formation began to take shape on the other side of Europe's “great Wall,” with a fantasy of “Europe” taking center stage in the consolidation of a new Turkish identity.

The historiography of central European modernism has been characterized by a set of oppositions that have sometimes appeared to be paradoxical. These contradictions relate to the context of the late Habsburg Empire and (after its dissolution following the First World War) its successor states, which include Austria, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, and the formerly Habsburg regions absorbed by Poland, Italy, Romania, and the new state of Yugoslavia. On the one hand, scholars have identified Habsburg Europe as the laboratory of many creations and movements that have been considered seminal to modernism in its myriad forms: in literature, in the visual arts, in architecture and design, in music, and in other intellectual spheres from the philosophy of language to psychoanalysis. Modernist literary giants from the Empire include Rainer Maria Rilke, Franz Kafka, Robert Musil, Paul Celan, and many others. These contributions, moreover, have been seen not simply as prime exemplars of modernism but as innovations of a radical type, producing lasting legacies for the twentieth century and beyond. In fact, some critics have claimed the term “modernism” itself, as applied to literature in particular, as an innovation of the Viennese critic Hermann Bahr, although that genesis is a matter of debate.

Heidi and her grandfather in the Swiss Alps, the provincialism of Swiss cities, and the obsession with order and common sense have hardly been conducive to the development of modernism in Switzerland. In European modernist literature, Switzerland tends to serve as the model for a pre-modern, idyllic vision of life that European writers often invoked as a refuge from the chaos of the modern metropolis. Yet Zurich, the largest Swiss city, was the center of European modernism during the two world wars. After these two invasions of modernist writers, artists, composers, dancers, and theater people, the Swiss launched their own modernism after 1945.

First World War

During the First World War, neutral Switzerland became the chosen refuge for European pacifists, revolutionaries, anarchists, and anti-war protesters. James Joyce, Romain Rolland, V. I. Lenin, and the German Expressionists and socialists Ludwig Rubiner, Ernst Bloch, Otto Flake, René Schickele, Klabund, and Annette Kolb were among the thousands of refugees living in Switzerland during these years (and keeping the Swiss police very busy). They primarily settled in Zurich, which thereby became the center of modernism in Europe during the First World War.

Modernism has traditionally been considered a denationalized enterprise - axiomatically the work of “exiles and émigrés,” “an art without frontiers,” “the product of an era of artistic migration and internationalism.” In the context of British modernism this conventional story of deracinated internationalism contains an essential truth, but it narrows and simplifies the area of inquiry unnecessarily. It is a curiosity of the field of Anglo-American modernism that London is among the most studied of modernist locations, yet British modernism is thought to be virtually non-existent, on the grounds that most of the major London-based modernists were expatriates rather than British-born writers. I hope to demonstrate, however, that if "British modernism" sounds like a contradiction in terms, this is not merely because so many of its important participants were British only by adoption if at all (and this is the enduringly useful insight at the heart of the exiles-and-émigrés narrative), but also because a number of the British-born writers of the period identified most strongly not with the political nation-state of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, but with one of its constituent cultural nations and regions.

'Unfortunately, everybody must be either a man or a woman' according to Dick Heldar, the hero of The Light That Failed (1891), who goes on to tell Maisie, his childhood sweetheart, that she is not a woman. Maisie, now a young artist, craves the professional recognition reserved only for men, and, to Dick's horror, chooses a same-sex companionship over marriage, which she senses would compromise her independence. In many ways, Maisie embodies the fin-de-siécle figure of 'the New Woman' , which gave expression to feminist ideals and aspirations, but also to society's fears and anxiety about the budding women's movement and its threat to conventional values. There is a strong sense in Kipling's world that men and women live in separate spheres and should abide by different laws, and that women, as J. M. S. Tompkins argued, 'should not attempt to play a man's part in a man's world'. This makes Maisie, who seeks to be liberated from her traditional gender roles, problematic for Dick, who wants to marry her, and for Kipling, who wishes to put her back in her place; for both, she is neither a man nor a woman.

The brilliant discussion in Chapter 3 of Robert Nozick's Anarchy, State, and Utopia (ASU) is vitiated by an illicit slide between “some” and “all” or, better, between “to some extent” and “entirely.” In this chapter Nozick discusses the moral theory background to his Locke an libertarian doctrine of individual moral rights. He seeks to show that structural features of the account of moral requirements and permissions that most of us accept turn out to be reasons also to accept the more controversial Lockean libertarianism.

The brilliant part of the discussion describes the structure of a non-consequentialist deontological moral theory that denies that each person ought always to do whatever would produce the impartially best outcome, even if the idea of the best outcome is interpreted as the greatest overall fulfillment of individual moral rights ranked by their moral importance. In this connection Nozick introduces the idea of a “side constraint” and of a morality that consists of side constraints, in whole or in part. This discussion advances our understanding of moral theory. We are all in Nozick's debt for this advance even if at the end of the day the case for accepting a consequentialist theory proves compelling.

Many nineteenth-century writers have entered our visual age, one dominated by cinema and television; a number have managed to survive; only a few have positively thrived. Rudyard Kipling is in the latter group. The popularity of cinematic adaptations of his work has drawn fresh attention to his texts, reworking them within new cultural, historical and political contexts. Work in film studies has informed the closely related field that addresses the relationship between word and image; it can aid the exploration of illustrated editions of Kipling.

While film adaptations of Kipling began to be made in the 1910s, Kipling's works often appeared illustrated when they were first published. For the first Macmillan edition of Kipling's works published between 1894 and 1902, professional illustrators were commissioned including I. W. Taber, who worked on 'Captains Courageous' (1896), and H. A. Millar, who illustrated Puck of Pook's Hill (1906) and Rewards and Fairies (1910). The illustration of this edition was not left to professional illustrators alone, however. Kipling's father, John Lockwood Kipling, co-illustrated The Jungle Book (1894) and was the sole illustrator of The Second Jungle Book (1895) and Kim (1901), while Kipling himself provided images for the Just So Stories (1902).

INTRODUCTION

“The framework for utopia,” Robert Nozick tells us at the beginning of the final section of Part III of Anarchy, State, and Utopia (ASU), “is equivalent to the minimal state” (p. 333). The rich and complex body of argumentation of Parts I and II had produced the conclusion that the minimal, and no more than a minimal, state was legitimate or morally justified. What Part III reveals is that the minimal state “is the one that best realizes the utopian aspirations of untold dreamers and visionaries” (p. 333). Although this happy convergence is surely no accident, neither, Nozick insists, is it contrived, for it is the conclusion reached by two independent lines of argument. If there is a framework for utopia - or, as I shall from now simply say, utopia - it is the minimal state.

The obvious question to ask, then, is whether Nozick is right that the minimal state gives us utopia – understanding utopia in the way that he would have us do. The thesis of this chapter is that Nozick does not succeed. What Part iii offers is neither a plausible account of a utopian community nor the inspiring conception of a state that Nozick promises. The root of the problem lies in Nozick’s initial rejection of anarchy, for the idea of utopia he wants to defend is one that is achievable outside the state but not within it.

The writings of Rudyard Kipling are thematically more various than the single topic of empire to which they are often reduced. Nonetheless, the British Empire of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries stood as the dominant concern of his prose and poetry throughout much of his career. He came of age as a writer when Britain was awakening to the advent of the 'new imperialism' - that phase of British imperial history, from 1882 to 1906, during which Britain, prompted by the rise of European imperial rivals and by the outbreak of nationalist uprisings throughout the Empire,- came to adopt a more self-conscious imperial policy. During that time, Kipling emerged as the unofficial laureate of empire, the writer who most clearly articulated the spirit of imperial consolidation and who most deeply inspired proponents of a more deliberately conceived and energetically prosecuted imperial project. When the new imperialism began to fade in popularity after Britain's indecisive victory in the Second South African War (1899-1902), he continued to advocate an assertive imperialism, but with increasing pessimism - less as a tonic for British expansionism than as an antidote to the national degeneration that he and others saw in Britain's inept performance in the war against the Boers. In the last two decades of his life, when imperial Britain was clearly waning, a bitter Kipling largely forsook his vision of a wide and powerful empire.

It is evident, even notorious, that Kipling was committed to an Anglo-American 'special relationship' long before Winston Churchill coined the term. No work of Rudyard Kipling's is more celebrated or imperative than 'The White Man's Burden' (1899), that injunction to the US to assume imperial power in the Philippines. The most cursory reader recognises Kipling's demands for Anglo-Saxon solidarity between the great English-speaking nations. But for all the political clarity of Kipling's international demands on the US, he had a more complex relation to the country, a bonding that emerged from his life as a Vermont householder. If Kipling had lots of clear opinions, he also harboured deeply confused feelings. The clarity made him a famous polemicist but the feelings made him an American writer.

The American ark: home at Naulakha

The newly married Caroline and Rudyard Kipling built the house called ‘Naulakha’ in 1892–3 on a hillside in Dummerston, Vermont, overlooking the Connecticut River Valley and facing Mount Wantastiquet. The name meant their ‘Jewel Beyond Price’, their ‘Treasure’ and betokened ‘ The House’ to be happy in.For a few years they were happier than ever again in their lives. After they left Naulakha because of an explosive family feud with Carrie’ s brother Beatty, they never again inhabited so comfortable a house or enjoyed such family happiness.

In Anarchy, State, and Utopia (ASU), Robert Nozick sketches and motivates a libertarian theory of justice and then uses it to argue that a minimal state, but nothing stronger, can be just. In this chapter, I focus on explaining and assessing his libertarian theory. My focus will be on laying out the basics and identifying how they can be challenged. I shall not address his argument for the minimal state.

JUSTICE

Although Nozick frequently (and confusedly) writes of (moral) justifiability, permissibility, and legitimacy, it is clear that his main focus in the book is on justice. He never, however, explains the concept of justice. We shall therefore start by clarifying the concept of justice relevant to Nozick's theory. What is his theory about?

The term “justice” is used in many different ways by philosophers: as fairness (comparative desert), as moral permissibility (or justifiability) either of distributions of benefits and burdens or of social structures (e.g., legal systems), as enforceable duties (duties that others are permitted to enforce), as the duties that are owed to individuals (as opposed to impersonal duties, owed to no one), and as the enforceable duties owed to individuals. It is clear that Nozick restricts justice to the fulfillment of the duties owed to individuals, but it is unclear whether he restricts it only to enforceable duties.

'Fin de siécle', murmured Lord Henry with languid anticipation in the 1891 version of Oscar Wilde's novel The Picture of Dorian Gray. Wilde's novel first appeared in Lippincott's Magazine in June 1890. Six months later, the same headlining position was occupied by the periodical version of Kipling's 'The Light That Failed'. That version and the first English edition of The Light That Failed (1891) would seem to be a long way from Wilde's work and his 'Wardour Street aestheticism'. However, both novels involve artworks and artists, and both show how sexual identity has become problematic (and a subject for analysis) at the end of the century. Kipling’s novel explores what he calls the 'good love' between men and the much more difficult territory of male-female relations. One of the complicating factors, for Kipling, is women's refusal to play the role that men expect. In Maisie and 'the red-haired girl', Kipling presents his version of the 'New Woman'. At the same time, Kipling's novel serves to remind us that 'empire-building' was also part of the fin-de-siécle. He attempts to project a masculinist ideology within, and as part of, an imperialist vision. However, the attempt to assert a military model of masculinity is constantly subverted from within by traces of homoeroticism within the homosocial bondings, disquieting elements of sadism, and the haunting sense that male separateness might be a limitation rather than a strength.

INTRODUCTION

Having argued in Parts I and II of Anarchy, State, and Utopia (ASU) that a minimal state is justified and that no state more extensive than the minimal state is legitimate, Nozick attempts to establish in Part III that the minimal state is an inspiring meta-utopia which we should strive to realize. Nozick's discussion of utopia and his argument to the effect that the minimal state is a framework for utopia is important for three overarching reasons. First, it constitutes a fascinating and underappreciated investigation into utopian theorizing. Second, it provides us with an account of the features that a Nozickian society is likely to exhibit, thereby enhancing our understanding of the positive vision underlying Nozick's project. Third, it is meant to constitute an independent argument for the minimal state that does not rely on any moral considerations, in particular an argument that does not rely on Nozick's controversial theory of individual rights (see p. 309 fn. and p. 333). The results of the different parts of ASU are meant to converge from different starting points on the same end point, namely a minimal state. This means that even if Nozick’s libertarianism should turn out to be lacking a solid moral foundation, as has frequently been raised as an objection, his argument that the minimal state is a meta-utopia would still have to be reckoned with, which means that it is not possible to circumvent Nozick’s defense of the minimal state by simply rejecting his theory of individual rights.

There is no other literary career like Rudyard Kipling's. At the end of the nineteenth century he rapidly achieved a level of popularity that remains unique. Modern communications, mass education and a transformed publishing industry meant that he reached a worldwide audience, first in English and then in translation. More than a huge popular success, Kipling's work also received critical acclaim. The high point in terms of recognition came in 1907, when Kipling won the Nobel Prize in literature; he remains the youngest literature laureate. However, Kipling's reputation was already on the turn, mainly because of his strong views on the Empire and a preparedness, especially in his poetry, to use his writing for political ends. Kipling's late career is much debated: for one camp there is a marked decline, for another it benefits from a maturing vision.

Some critics have always simply dismissed Kipling. During the Second World War , five years after Kipling’s death, H. E. Bates likened him to Hitler in his ‘love of the most extravagant form of patriotism, flamboyant stage effects and sadistic contempt for the meek’. As for his style, that was all ‘tinsel and brass’.(Bates made no mention of Kipling’s many warnings about German intentions in his last years.) Many, though, have found Kipling a spur to their own imagination and creativity. The French composer Charles Koechlin (1867–1950), who was a communist, first came across the Jungle Book s in translation. From 1899, he wrote a series of symphonic poems and orchestral songs drawing on the stories.