A central goal of the lunch counter sit-ins of 1960, the protests that launched the direct-action phase of the Civil Rights Movement, was to give new meaning to the very idea of “civil rights.” To the students who took part in the protests, civil rights work entailed litigation and lobbying. It required relying on the older generation of civil rights activists and working through established civil rights organizations. It meant surrendering student control over the demonstrations. And, as the great unrealized promise of the then 6-year-old Supreme Court ruling in Brown v. Board of Education made painfully clear, it meant patience. For the thousands of students who joined the sit-in movement, reliance on their elders, litigation, and patience—the stuff of civil rights, traditionally understood—was precisely what they wanted to avoid.

This article considers the changed role of the Italian presidency and the impact and legacy of Silvio Berlusconi on this. After consideration of some of the methodological difficulties raised by these issues, the article looks at the role of the presidency up to 1992, when the presidency was interpreted in narrow terms set by the framers of the 1948 constitution and by the predominance of the party leaders of the period over the political direction of the State. The article considers how presidents from Sandro Pertini (1978–85) on, sought in different ways to expand the political role of their office. The article analyses the different ways that Oscar Luigi Scalfaro, Carlo Azeglio Ciampi and Giorgio Napolitano used their formal and informal powers both to maintain the status of the office and to promote political goals, and concludes with an assessment of the likely long-term impact of these changes and of Berlusconi's role in them.

In this article, I explore the conditions of the media in Italy by taking into consideration a variety of elements: the context of media legislation and media concentration that have favoured the interests of Silvio Berlusconi, and the role of progressive agency (media professionals, citizens' groups) as they worked within those constraints to keep alive the flames of democracy during the ‘Berlusconi era’. This perspective is intended to provide an alternative interpretation to what has become the prevailing view of contemporary Italy: an ‘abnormal’ country; the ‘Sick Man of Europe’; worse yet: a country of ‘servants’. The framework of analysis includes the influence of the media-magnate-turned-politician on media legislation and the television sector, but also evaluates the important roles that media professionals and citizens have played to improve pluralism. The article argues that despite extreme levels of media concentration and an unprecedented conflict of interests, a commitment to engage in political discourse has continued to characterise Italy's political culture. This commitment has been expressed by a multiplicity of actors, from journalists and media professionals to citizens' organisations and media activists.

A distinguishing feature of the Berlusconi era has undoubtedly been his personal conflict with the judiciary. Therefore, this article explores the impact of Berlusconi's 20 years in politics on the Italian judicial system. The main argument developed in this analysis is that, thanks to a strong institutional framework built with the 1948 constitution, the Italian judiciary continued to guarantee an effective mechanism of checks and balances. In spite of reiterated attempts by the centre–right majority to modify judicial procedures and organisation to advantage Berlusconi in solving his judicial troubles (ad personam laws), the judiciary was, in the long run, successful in restraining these actions. In fact, several of the ad personam laws were abrogated by rulings of the Constitutional Court, or made substantially ineffective in the implementation stage. Moreover, no substantial reforms of the judicial system have been accomplished, although they were frequently announced. Nevertheless, it may be argued that Berlusconi's anti-judicial rhetoric has had a significant impact on public attitudes towards the judiciary, and contributed to exacerbating the polarisation between two opposite views of the justice system in Italy. The persistent anti-judicial message affected public opinion and was deeply incorporated by centre–right voters, creating a real cleavage on the issue of justice. Moreover, this huge conflict on the justice issue increasingly distracted the attention of political actors from the real organisational problems of the system of justice.

Despite the recent proliferation of scholarship on the Mau Mau rebellion, little attention has been paid to the ‘propaganda war’ it generated. The absence is especially striking given the importance that both the British and Mau Mau fighters attached to success in the battle for the ‘hearts and minds’ of Kenya's African population. This article analyzes the production of colonial propaganda – and its reception by Africans – in the ‘Emergency’, revealing how its themes and strategies changed over the course of the 1950s. Despite vast resources pumped into this effort, both African and British testimonies reveal that this propaganda had only limited success until government forces gained the upper hand in the military war against Mau Mau in late 1954. After that point, the increased level of control in Central Province enabled officials to finally best the efforts of skilled Mau Mau propagandists.

This article examines squatter resistance to a World Bank-funded forest and paper factory project. The article illustrates how diverse actors came together at the sites of rural development projects in early postcolonial Kenya. It focuses on the relationship between the rural squatters who resisted the project and the political elites who intervened, particularly President Kenyatta. Together, these two groups not only negotiated the reformulation of a major international development program, but they also worked out broader questions about political authority and political culture. In negotiating development, rural actors and political elites decided how resources would be distributed and they entered into new patronage-based relationships, processes integral to the making of the postcolonial political order.

In many accounts, the Sharpeville emergency of 1960 was a key ‘turning point’ for modern South African history. It persuaded the liberation movements that there was no point in civil rights-style activism and served as the catalyst for the formation of the African National Congress's armed wing, Umkhonto we Sizwe. From the South African government's perspective, the events at Sharpeville made it imperative to crush black resistance so that whites could defend themselves against communist-inspired revolutionary agitation. African and Afrikaner nationalist accounts are thus mutually invested in the idea that, after Sharpeville, there was no alternative. This article challenges such assumptions. By bringing together new research on African and Afrikaner nationalism during this period, and placing them in the same frame of analysis, it draws attention to important political dynamics and possibilities that have for too long been overlooked.

Based on a broad assessment of the scholarship on North-Western Africa, this article examines Saharan historiography with a particular view towards understanding how and why historians have long represented the continent as being composed of two ‘Africas’. Starting with the earliest Arabic writings, and, much later, French colonial renderings, it traces the epistemological creation of a racial and geographic divide. Then, the article considers the field of African studies in North African universities and ends with a review of recent multidisciplinary research that embraces a trans-Saharan approach.