Like other historiographical fields, that of German history has been defined through most of its existence by the things historians argued about. We could go back well over a hundred years to the Methodenstreit over Karl Lamprecht's efforts to write multidisciplinary history, follow the line through the work of Eckart Kehr, Fritz Fischer, Hans Ulrich Wehler, and the Sonderweg debate, and continue on through the Historikerstreit and the Historikerinnenstreit of the 1980s, and the Goldhagen and Wehrmacht exhibit fights in the mid-1990s, to recent debates over the relative weight of colonial and Holocaust memory.

This article is part of the collaborative research project Populist Publics. Housed at Carleton University (www.carleton.ca/populistpublics), it applies a data-driven analysis of online hate networks to trace how false framings of the historical past, what we call historical misinformation, circulates across platforms, shaping the politics of the center alongside the fringes. We cull large datasets from social media platforms and run them through a variety of different programs to help visualize how harmful speech and civilizational rhetoric about race, ethnicity, immigration, multiculturalism, gender equality, and LGBTQ+ rights are circulated by far-right groups across borders, noting specifically when and how they are taken up in the mainstream as legitimate discourse. Our interest is in how the distortion of the historical record is used to build alternative collective memories of the past so as to undermine minority rights and cultures in the present. We began with a basic question: To what extent is this actually new? As much as the atomized publics of our current day create ideal conditions for radical ideas to fester and circulate, it was obvious to us that we needed to look for linkages across time, drawing on interdisciplinary methods from the fields of history, media and communication, and data science to identify the tactics, strategies, and repertoires among such groups and individuals. By analyzing German-Canadian relations in particular, what follows is a first attempt to piece together some of these connections, with a focus on far-right hate groups—homegrown and imported—in the settler colonial project that is today's Canada.

In quoting from a contemporary observer who noted that by virtue of their very nature it is “a small distance (that) women must travel to become nurses,” (145) Katrin Schultheiss sets up the main argument she advances in her analysis of the French politics of the professionalization of nursing in the Third Republic. In her discussion of the competing discourses of modernization, secularization, labor militancy, and feminization, which combined in intricate if at times oppositional ways to shape and inform the debate on women's place in public medicine and nursing, Schultheiss cautions against simple explanations and narrative arcs. This, the reader is told, is not simply the story of women's search for political recognition within the masculine public sphere; instead, it is one that outlines women's multi-pronged struggle for standardized training and professional status during the fin-de-siecle period. But the history and politics surrounding nursing's emergence at this time is bound up with other themes common to this period, from the rise of working-class consciousness among public workers, to the modernization of medicine as a discipline, and Church-state conflict. In viewing the micro and macro-level debates which enveloped nurses as a symptom of France's bumpy path to modernity, Schultheiss suggests that nursing acts as an important lens through which to observe larger struggles over gendered sacrifice, social citizenship, and political belonging at this critical juncture in French history.