This chapter is an exploration of the power of numbers in apartheid South Africa. It concerns with the impact of what were deemed to be 'modern' modes of political rationality on the emergence and development of apartheid. The making of apartheid was rooted in a rethinking of the idea of political power. Bureaucrats engaged in rituals of often absurdly detailed quantitative measurement in their continuous efforts to count and classify the population. The concept of modernity is intended to articulate historical and geographical interconnectedness. In terms of the logic of modern statecraft, the role of the bureaucrat was to contribute the reasoned objectivity of a dispassionate, skilled and expertly knowledgeable administrative practitioner. Public reports of limited statistical expertise perhaps account for the traditions of scepticism and suspicion which developed internally within the state between its various statistical agents.

Ginsberg was not just a primary figure in the literary and countercultural movements of the decades following World War II. As this chapter details, he also provides a crucial link, too infrequently acknowledged, between these postwar movements and the Old Left ideals and communities of the 1930s and early 1940s. Touching on the numerous moments in Ginsberg’s poetry and biography where he recalls a youth shaped by his parents’ communist and socialist commitments, including their support for labor unions, this essay explains briefly why those commitments needed to be reformulated as Ginsberg began his poetic career in the mid 1950s, in the early years of the Cold War.

Rhetoric played a role throughout the planning, action and aftermath of the events that took place at Mers el-Kebir on 3 July 1940, reflecting sentiments of strength and resolve in the future conduct of the war. In order to focus on the rhetorical elements of the event, represented through press releases, speeches and news articles, this chapter provides only a brief overview of the planning and carrying out of the operation. The chapter focuses on the rhetorical construction of the events at Mers el-Kebir through three key sources: a revised press release, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill's Commons address, and press interpretations in the Guardian and The Times. The rhetorical analysis demonstrates not only the scope of factors that influence the planning and justification of a policy, but also how national memory and interpretation of events can be shaped and constructed by language and the imagery it creates.

British travellers had confidently made their way from Angora to Afghanistan, from the Cape to Cairo, from Nepal to New Zealand; their journeys were written up in the books that Evelyn Waugh reviewed. The imperial legacy was an ambiguous one for many post-imperial British travellers. Travel and tourism throughout the colonies allowed Britons a glimpse of modernisation under British or European administration, and to make comparisons between British colonial rule and that of other imperial nations. The experience of travel and tourism in post-colonial nations was refracted through the prism of British imperialism. There were greater opportunities and enthusiasm for travel after the Second World War than there had ever been in British history. The landscape of the decolonised world is haunted by the ghosts of British adventurers past. The melancholy nostalgia for a bygone era is more characteristic of twentieth-century British travel texts than their nineteenth-century counterparts.

Director David Lean explored the nature of Britain's last imperial hero in Lawrence of Arabia, scripted by Robert Bolt. The clash of archetypes surfaced in one of the key 1960s films of empire, Zulu. The 1930s had seen a flourishing genre of imperial films produced both in Britain and in Hollywood. The outbreak of the Second World War put an end to the 1930s cycle of imperial films. By the 1960s, mass cinema closures in Britain and a general decline in cinema-going meant that Britain was no longer the lucrative market it had once been for American films. The onset of the Cold War meant that for Hollywood, subject to the McCarthy purge and anxious to demonstrate its anti-Communist credentials, nineteenth-century British India provided a useful warning lesson about the dangers of Russian infiltration.

This chapter is informed by responses to the chosen films by female viewers and considers these responses in relation to the aesthetic qualities of the films. Fan communities, thus privilege particular kinds of cinematic horror. Thus, Barker's films might be held up as great examples of splatterpunk in fan communities that are interested in the gory and explicit imagery. Certainly, many female fans of gothic horror still chose to view examples of body horror and find pleasure in them. Passionate feminine sexuality is positioned as monstrous in the narrative, but this is never quite that narratively straightforward in Barker's work. In terms of the appeal of Barkerian films, certainly in respect of Barker's imaginative stories and themes, this goes back to their predominantly negative feelings about the formulaic aspects of much of the horror genre.

Since September 2001, the struggle against international terrorism and extremism across the globe has become a defining security paradigm of the 21st century. Africa is now an inescapable and increasingly critical part of this new security equation. This presents an enormous political and socio-economic challenge for many African countries and organizations that are already over burden trying to cope with longstanding and other newly arising security threats. Terrorism and extremism, however, are certainly not new to Africa, but what has changed in the post-September 11th world for Africa is the apparent melding of domestic and international terrorism and extremism. Accordingly, much of the success or failure to counter these threats will be as much affected by the actions and policies of external forces than on the capabilities (or lack thereof) of African governments and institutions.

George Gale was 'a complex and contradictory figure caught up and influenced by the socio-political historical context of segregationist and later apartheid South Africa'. In fostering social medicine and a new form of medical education, Gale's thinking was undoubtedly in advance of that of the vast majority of his medical contemporaries in South Africa and abroad. As Dean of Durban Medical School Gale was insistent that students be taught anthropology and sociology. With his rural mission experience Gale had valuable insights to bring to the entire conceptualisation of the health centre scheme. Dominant whites in the state were simply not prepared to sustain the welfare costs involved in a National Health Service Commission (NHSC). Like most missionary doctors and indeed non-missionary practitioners, Gale was certainly impatient of what he saw as 'superstition' and the obstacle it posed to health.

This chapter explores the legacy of Jane Eyre through a consideration of reimaginings of Bertha Mason, a character presented in unequivocally negative terms in Charlotte Bronte's narrative but variously reinvented in subsequent adaptations as object of pity, femme fatale, proto-feminist figure and Gothic monster. It examines a variety of creative responses to Bronte's madwoman, in a range of mediums, including various literary genres (young adult, literary fiction, mash-up), film, television, theatre and art. Beginning with a brief survey of Bertha's afterlives, the chapter moves on to consider these representations in relation to three key aspects of her characterisation: her madness, appearance and death. The implied association between Bertha's racial identity and her madness is expressed through references to her as both 'the insane Creole' and 'the madwoman from Jamaica'.

This section presents an annotated critical edition of El día de difuntos de 1836. Fígaro en el cementerio , one of the ‘artículos de costumbres’, a type of satirical sketch that was popular in nineteenth-century Europe, by the Romantic journalist Mariano José de Larra (1809–37).

The relationship between Anglo-Indian and Indian women was complex coloured by expectations about femininity and women's role in the empire. British women's role in the empire played a crucial discursive function in the domestic and imperial political debates of metropolitan Britain, as Antoinette Burton has compellingly demonstrated. The 'uplift' of Indian womanhood was an important component of Britain's civilizing mission in India. Many of the activities that passed as charitable work for the 'uplift' of Indian womanhood were merely fundraising for various causes, involving no opportunity for the interaction of Anglo-Indian wives with their Indian 'sisters'. Rather than conceding their own apparent lack of femininity, Anglo-Indian women presented Indian women as unnatural and their 'feminine' characteristics as perverse and degraded. The story of one wartime endeavor, a magazine entitled Women in India, aptly illustrates the individualistic nature of much of Anglo-Indian women's wartime activities.