To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure no-reply@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
In settler colonies such as the United States, Canada, Australia, and Aotearoa New Zealand, “memory wars” have, driven by conflicting narratives about colonial history, intensified in recent years. Indigenous counter-narratives challenge Euro-centric master narratives, particularly in public spaces such as museums and monuments. This article explores the impact of such conflicts on national identity, focusing on Aotearoa New Zealand, where the history of colonization has long been framed as a relatively benign process, underpinned by the Treaty of Waitangi. Through application of a comprehensive narratological framework, the article reveals how the Waitangi Treaty Grounds’ permanent exhibition, Ko Waitangi Tēnei: This is Waitangi, employs the quest masterplot to weave Māori memories of the mid-1800s New Zealand Wars into the national master narrative. The analysis highlights that this narrative emplotment – by “naturalizing” the events of the New Zealand Wars – serves to elide difficult questions about colonial violence, thus protecting the image of a tolerant and respectful nation. More generally, the article contributes to our understanding of national identity construction in the context of difficult histories, while also advancing theoretical approaches to narratology in museum storytelling.
This article traces the history of the repression of palm wine and alcohol (sodabi) in Dahomey, now Benin, with varying degrees of intensity, from the nineteenth-century kingdom of Abomey to postcolonial Dahomey. In parallel with the repression, this article also looks at the history of palm alcohol production. Dahomeans learned to distil wine from French peasants during the First World War, and were driven into sodabi production by French economic policies during the Great Depression. Using court sources, this article describes the social organisation, gender division, and economic rationale of sodabi production, as well as the occasions on which it was drunk. Ultimately, it argues that the repression of sodabi made it more difficult for peasants to improve their living conditions.
East German Sigmund Jähn and West German Ulf Merbold were Germany’s first spacefarers. While their rivalry mirrored the superpowers’ space race in many ways, it differed in a significant aspect: Jähn and Merbold shared a common cultural and historical background. Going where no German had gone before, therefore, was as much a competition of democracy versus dictatorship, and/or capitalism versus communism, as it was about which state represented the ‘better’ Germany. Moreover, this rivalry did not end with the Cold War but reappeared with renewed vigour in the country’s eventual reunification process after 1990. Drawing on national archival and printed sources from all around the world, this article analyses collective projections and competing performances in the making of Germany’s most famous rocket stars, both before and beyond 1990. Discussing individual characteristics, cultural traditions and techno-scientific ambitions, it argues that descent rather than socio-technical prospect proved crucial in designating the progenitor of German space flight.
This is an essay about the high-Qing imperial house through the prism of a series of eleven munificent actions that subordinated the interests of the public exchequer to image-manufacture, monarchical self-assertion and monarchical self-positioning within the royal descent-line. Scrutiny of the edicts announcing the ten major revenue sacrifices (six universal land-tax remissions, four remissions of the tribute grain) and the famous freezing of the ding quotas shows an attenuation of public-policy content as acts of fiscal grace became accompaniments of personal life-cycle celebrations. The essay probes the edict at the midpoint of this transition to propose an interpretation of the Qianlong emperor’s rashness in proclaiming the one risky universal tax remission, that of 1745. It assesses Qianlong’s attempts to position himself as his munificent grandfather’s inheritor and draws on context and intercultural comparison to portray a young ruler preoccupied with self-actualization and self-differentiation from a father he somewhat resembled.
In response to the Hamidian massacres of 1894–1897, Armenian immigrants held commemorative events in the US that concurred with their activism for the Armenian Question. Although largely overlooked in scholarship, these commemorative practices offer insights into the early history of this community and the memory of the late Ottoman state violence. We explore how American Armenians commemorated the Hamidian massacres, addressing this gap in scholarship. Specifically, we delve into the socio-political and cultural sphere, analyzing the agencies and narratives involved in these commemorative practices. Through a close examination of various commemorative forms, we find that the incentives of American Armenians went beyond simply honoring the victims. We argue that the motives of mourning loss and striving to prevent violence from recurring were intricately intertwined in the commemoration. Despite the unsuccessful outcome, the search for prevention remained an important driving force behind commemorating Ottoman violence in the following years. By integrating its memory into their public life, communal leadership aimed not only to foster social cohesion among Armenian immigrants but also to garner public empathy and sympathy within the host society, ultimately translating it into political support for the Armenian Question, which was believed could prevent future atrocities.
Of all the many instruments that symbolized scientific endeavour in British India by the end of the nineteenth century, microscopes were among the most iconic, and yet, for both empirical and ideological reasons, their rise to scientific authority was slow and often contested. Moving from recreational use and marginal scientific status in the 1830s, by the 1870s microscopes were becoming integral to colonial education and governance and deployed across a wide scientific spectrum, their expanding use and heightened public presence facilitated by a rich and diverse visual culture. The eventual triumph of the microscope in India cannot be detached from its ongoing entanglement with local issues and agencies, its ascent to medical authority in particular constrained by scepticism about its utility. In this battle of instruments and imaginaries, microscopes – political emblems as well as material objects and scientific tools – pose critical questions about the visibility of science in a colonial context, about evolving techniques of seeing and representation, about the racialization of science and about the individual or collective authority of those who sought empowerment through the lens.
This article provides an overview of the main interpretations in contemporary historiography of the role of Italian political actors in the management of public debt during the First Republic, also in the context of European integration. In order to fill the gaps in historical research on this crucial issue, the conclusion proposes some questions and insights for future research.
“Oriental confectioners” were a separate administrative category of craftsmen in early socialist Slovenia. The group of mainly Albanian-speaking seasonal craftsmen came from the rural Polog basin in North Macedonia during the interwar period and continued migrating to Slovenia in the profoundly changed postwar context. The emerging socialist authorities cast private craft businesses as potentially antisocialist. Employing a textual analysis of craft-related archival documents from the period (1945–1955), the article explores the treatment of Albanian migrants by the nascent bureaucracy in the People’s Republic of Slovenia. The key argument posited is two-fold. Firstly, the economic exclusion of Albanian migrant craftsmen extended beyond socialist distrust towards private enterprise. Exclusion was deeply intertwined with Slovenia’s orientalist, balkanist, and possibly racist perceptions, which culturally diminished craftsmen’s origins and products, and placed Albanian migrants in a conflicting position with socialist modernization. Secondly, and in contrast to the first point, the state’s treatment was not uniformly discriminatory. Albanian migrants were often able to negotiate their inclusion into the urban economy by appealing to socialist morality, to which socialist authorities at the republican level were particularly receptive.
Through the analysis of a series of different documents preserved in the Fondo Tremaglia, I reconstruct the genesis and development of the National Day of Italian Labour Sacrifices in the World (Giornata nazionale del sacrificio del lavoro italiano nel mondo). The holiday was conceived by Minister for Italians in the World Mirko Tremaglia and designated by Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi at the end of 2001. The analysis focuses on the recovery and exaltation of the memory of the Italian miners who died in the Marcinelle mining disaster in 1956, on the political and cultural dynamics of Italy at the time, and on Tremaglia’s saloino (he voluntarily joined the Italian Social Republic and was enlisted in the National Republican Guard) and missino (term used to refer to the members of the Movimento Sociale Italiano) past. The result is a multifaceted scenario for a commemoration that still exists today, but is largely unknown in the country where it was created.
This study re-examines the fiscal collapse of late-Qing China by analyzing how the imperial household’s financial practices destabilized the dynasty’s governance equilibrium. Focusing on the post-1853 period, it argues that the Taiping Rebellion’s devastation of salt tax networks and customary revenue streams triggered a systemic rupture in the Qing’s dual patrimonial-bureaucratic fiscal structure. Deprived of traditional income, the Imperial Household Department abandoned its century-old fiscal segregation from the Board of Revenue, initiating coercive fund transfers in 1857 that persisted until 1908. These transfers eroded bureaucratic control over public expenditures while enabling unchecked imperial extraction through semi-privatized channels. Contrary to previous scholarship emphasizing provincial-central tensions, this study highlights how the imperial household’s ultra-bureaucratic prerogatives subverted fiscal discipline, replacing quota-based budgeting with ad hoc requisitions. The resulting institutional dysfunction – marked by path-dependent rent-seeking and stifled fiscal innovation – exacerbated the regime’s inability to reconcile patrimonial demands with bureaucratic rationalization. By exposing the collapse of the Qing’s historic governance dialectic, this study reframes the dynasty’s fiscal disintegration as a crisis of autocratic institutional design rather than mere resource scarcity, offering new insights into late-imperial state failure.
Coventry Cathedral and the Dresden Frauenkirche, both destroyed in the Second World War, are often mentioned in the same breath, treated as architectural, commemorative, and religious equivalents. Nothing could be further from the truth. While the ruins of Coventry Cathedral were transformed into a site of—and memorial to—postwar reconciliation, the Frauenkirche was neither a revered shrine nor an unintentional monument, but simply a gutted structure suspended in limbo for some forty years. It was only in the course of the 1980s, and especially in the aftermath of German reunification, that the Frauenkirche ruins became invested with specific meaning. Support from Britain and, above all, Coventry, was crucial in this process. Methodologically, the article fuses memory studies with church/architectural history and comparative/transnational research.