Learning from the past prepares one for being able to cope with the future. History is made up of strings of relationships. This article follows a historical line from colonialism, through apartheid to post-colonialism in order to illustrate inter-religious relations in South-Africa and how each context determines these relations. Social cohesion is enhanced by a post-colonial theology of religions based on the current context. By describing the relationship between Christians and Muslims during the 17th–18thcenturies in the Cape Colony, lessons can be deduced to guide inter-religious relations in a post-colonial era in South Africa. One of the most prominent Muslim leaders during the 17th century in the Cape Colony was Sheik Yusuf al-Makassari. His influence determined the future face of Islam in the Cape Colony and here, during the 18th century, ethics started playing a crucial role in determining the relationship between Christians and Muslims. The ethical guidance of the Imams formed the Muslim communities whilst ethical decline was apparent amongst the Christian colonists during the same period. The place of ethics as determinative of future inter-religious dialogue is emphasised. Denial and exclusion characterised relationships between Christians and Muslims. According to a post-colonial understanding of inter-religious contact the equality and dignity of non-Christian religions are to be acknowledged. In the postcolonial and post- apartheid struggle for equality, also of religions, prof Graham Duncan, to whom this article is dedicated, contributed to the process of acknowledging the plurality of the religious reality in South Africa.
tries, in Münzprägung, Geldumlauf und Wechselkurse/ Minting, Monetary Circulation and Exchange Rates, eds. E. V AN C AUWENBERGHE , F. I RSIGLER , Trierer Historische Forschungen, VII, Trier 1984, pp. 31-122; J. M UNRO , Deflation and the Petty Coinage Problem in the Late-Medieval Economy: the Case of Flanders, 1334-1484, in “Explorations in Economic History”, 25, October 1988, pp. 387-423; reprinted in J. M UNRO , Bullion Flows, no. VIII; IDEM , The Central European Mining Boom, Mint Out- puts, and Prices in the Low Countries and England, 1450-1550, in Money, Coins, and Commerce: Essays in the Monetary History of Asia and Europe from Antiquity to Modern Times, ed. E. V AN C AUWEN- BERGHE , Leuven 1991, pp. 119-183; P. N IGHTINGALE , Monetary Contraction and Mercantile Credit in Later Medieval England, in “Economic History Review”, 2nd ser., 43, November 1990, pp. 560-575; H. V AN DER W EE , Prices and Wages as Development Variables: A Comparison between Eng- land and the Southern Netherlands, 1400-1700, In “Actae Historia Neerlandicae”, 10, 1978, pp. 58-78; reprinted in IDEM , The Low Countries in the Early Modern World, London 1993 (Variorum), pp. 58-78. Having a common base period of 1451-75 = 100, the quinquennial composite price indices for Flanders, Brabant, and England fell as follows: the Flemish, 36.9 per cent from 1436-40 to 1461-65; the Brabantine, 27.4, from 1436-40 to 1461-65; and the English, 20.5 , from 1436-40 to 1456-60 (rising somewhat, in the next quinquennium, with the English coin- age debasement of 1464-65).
This incident set the tone for relations between the Nguyen court and uplanders in the 17th and 18thcenturies. During this period in Dang Trong, highlanders only participated in five anti-Nguyen rebellions. Part of the reason for this surely lay in the policy of conciliation rather than control. In these years it seems that the Nguyen wisely tried to avoid becoming involved in troubles they could not hope to manage successfully. Certainly they tried to remain aloof from major conflicts in the mountains, as the*r reaction to the Le Duy Mat rebellion indicated. Le Duy Mat, a descendant of the imperial Le, rebelled against the Trinh in the 1750s and 1760s. In 1753 the Trinh asked the Nguyen for permission to use the Tran Ninh road to attack Le Duy Mat, while in 1764 Le Duy Mat, from his Tran Ninh base, asked the Nguyen to join an attack on the Trinh. Both requests were denied on strategic grounds.7 In 17th and 18th century Dang Trong the Nguyen preferred to push to the south with steady determination, while keeping peace with the west as best they could. There was a distinct difference between the Nguyen’s way of dealing with the Khmer and with the Lao. While in late 1714 the instruction of the Nguyen to the two generals from the Hue court towards a Khmer civil war was to be "determined to gain victory and pacify the remote peoples", the response to a civil war in Laos several months later was only to send an "envoy to show friendship and watch the situation there".8 From the 1720s on, the Nguyen showed an increasing interest towards the south, so th at even the north was not their concern any more.
volume. The starting point for history – LIA climate connection in the Western Balkans was the ‘Long war’ (1593-1606), followed by the Morea war (1684-1699) in the south of the Balkan Peninsula, and the Holy League war (1683-1699), happening in the vast area of Europe, from Vienna to Skopje and to Sarajevo. The next century brought several shorter, though not less detrimental conflicts – 1714- 18, 1736-39, 1787-91, involving territories in the Adriatic hinterland, Ottoman Bosnia and Serbia, with Transdanubian parts as well (Aksan, 2007). Impacts of wars were manifold, starting from forceful army provisions and the requisition of men, food, and animals, adding up to already strained food production, distribution and supply during the LIA period. Brigandage and wartime pillage destroyed some agricultural areas and settlements; transportation and market disturbances impeded regular food distribution, which increased commodity prices and creation of black-market, smuggling, population movements and migration, spread of disease too, as epidemics usually followed troop movements. Besides this external violence, the inner situation deteriorated due to the ‘violence from within’, evidenced in the chronicle from Sarajevo, where local magnates ( ayans ) and janissary troops raged against Christians and Jews, but also against the Ottoman emperor and his governor, the Bosnian pasha (Koller, 2004). Urban unrests against corruption, and relating Ottoman government inefficiency, high food prices and market manipulation, as well as guerilla attacks on army troops ( uskok s and hayduk s), produced a ‘culture of violence’ and, accordingly, as ways of coping with pressure – a variety of ‘economies of violence’ (Bracewell, 1992; Mayhew, 2008; Esmer, 2014, 163-199).
without the institutional foundations’ of the late 17th and early 18thcenturies (p. 2). One of the key strengths of this book is the extent to which it identifies a religious, or more specifically an ecclesiological, bridge between some of the intellectual and social strands of early ‘Enlightenment’. The Church of England was no stick-in-the-mud! The consequences of this may complicate the study of what some scholars see as ‘Counter- Enlightenment’ religiosity. Indeed, having so successfully avoided the trap of writing a teleological history of the rise of Methodism, Sirota’s work may have been enhanced by pushing the chronology forward just a few years to examine the activism of George Whitefield and John and Charles Wesley. The Christian Monitors may also finally give scholars of the 18th-century Church of England greater confidence to move beyond studying the institution and tackle the socio-cultural world of its communicants.
historical works were written in Russia only in the 19th century. Like other spheres of knowledge historiosophy began to use rational methods of natural and exact sciences. Together with other sciences it gradually removed all extra, improper forces, all supernatural from history. In general historiosophy of the Enlightenment was deistic. In the 18th century “historiosophy of the world”, which was characteristic for the Middle Ages, finally transformed to “historiosophy of a society”. The researchers trace its genesis back to the beginning of the New Age (Niccolò di Bernardo dei Machiavelli, Francis Bacon, 1st Viscount St Alban) . Giving up theological explanation of the course of history, the enlighteners began to think about “natural” reasons for social and historical activity of people and a historical process. Those reasons were “the laws of nature” (which were also the laws of good sense, natural laws, and the laws of history) and “human nature”.
counter-balanced with cures as the shrine stabilised. 13 Ward fitted these into a universal time-frame – the third phase coincided with the end of the twelfth century when merciful miracles were more appropriate in a climate of more regularised cults and with the advent of formal canonisation. 14 Essential context for this pattern is provided by Sigal, who identified a western political environment as responsible for the growth in the eleventh and twelfth centuries of punishment miracles: the inadequacies of royal authority, he argued, had led to usurpation of power, rendering ecclesiastical establishments defenceless against the threats of secular lords. 15 Cuthbertine hagiography would appear to correlate with the combined patterns of Ward and Sigal: De miraculis spans Ward’s second and third phases, beginning with a group of violent miracles but tending towards more gentle miracles, mainly cures, in the later chapters. Reginald of Durham’s mid- to late-twelfth-century Libellus de admirandis Beati Cuthberti virtutibus also appears to continue with the beneficent third phase style miracles. However, these texts were written in response to specific local stimuli: Cuthbert’s cult existed in a sphere largely separate from the dynastic world discussed by Sigal, and was not part of the canonisation process discussed by Ward, although it was regularised in line with other cults at that time. 16 Thus, rather than attempting to discern a common pattern over a wide geographical, cultural and
Literary magazine: Jhankar, Nabarabi, Apurba, Galpa, Kahani, Kadambini, Istahara, Udbhasa, Amrutayana, Nabalipi, Pratibeshi, Paschima, Bijaya, Bartika, Chitra, Bishwamukti, Ama Samaya, Sananda, Godhuli Lagna, Bigyan Diganta (Science), and pourusha.The history of Oriya literature has been delineated by historians and linguists along the following stages, Old Oriya (900–1300 AD), Early Middle Oriya (1300–1500 AD), Middle Oriya (1500–1700 AD), Late Middle Oriya (1700 AD – 1850 AD) and Modern Oriya (from 1850 AD to the present). This categorisation does not outline in detail the development and growth of Oriya Literature. The periods can be split into more stages such as: Age of Charya Literature, Age of Sarala Das, Age of Panchasakha, Age of Upendra Bhanja, Age of Radhanath, Age of Satyabadi, Age of Marxism or Pragati yuga, Age of Romanticism or Sabuja Yuga, Post Independent Age.The beginnings of Oriya poetry coincide with the development of Charya Sahitya, the literature thus started by Mahayana Buddhist poets. This literature was written in a specific metaphor named "Sandhya Bhasha" and the poets like Luipa, Kanhupa are from the territory of Odisha. The language of Charya was considered as Prakrita.The first great poet of Odisha is Sarala Dasa who wrote the Mahabharata, not an exact translation from the Sanskrit original, rather an imitation of the same. Among many of his poems and epics, he is
The theme which comes out most clearly from Rebecca Rist’s study of the relationship between the papacy and Judaism (following her earlier work on the papacy and crusading (1)) is that as the defender of Christian society, it was the papacy’s concern both to uphold a tradition of protecting Jews as witnesses to Christ’s crucifixion, but also to defend true Christians from the risks inherent in tolerating a minority which (by their refusal to convert) challenged the truth of Christ’s revelation. This is the only real consistency to be found in papal-Jewish relations. Whether protection or restriction was emphasised at a particular time depended on what those who had appealed for papal intervention wanted and on the personal predilections of the pope and even on the trends in Christian society more widely. Any suggestion of a ‘policy of degradation’ (pp. 3–4) on the part of the papacy is not only ahistorical – positing, as it does, an unchanging aim spanning centuries – but also dependent on a very partial reading of both papal letters and Jewish accounts.
It was post-modern social theory that most helped move History away from any notions of objectivity. Michel Foucault (1926-1984), for example, famously argued for abandonment of dominant concepts of historical chronology altogether, rather stressing historical events and attitudes primarily as products of different power relations within society. His views ultimately led scholars to deconstruct the process of writing History itself, through acknowledging that even retelling a story was unconsciously a means of exerting power over it. The fact that Foucault has been used so widely by scholars within organizational theory shows that, despite an enduring social scientific pride in objectivity, increasingly OS scholars too see the importance of ever-changing social subjectivities among institutions, organizations and their members. Since the modernist and later post modern and symbolic interpretive turn in organisation theory (Westwood and Clegg 2003), the idea of the existence of general laws governing the best possible ways to organize labour and manage a complex organization irrespective of time, space, culture and power issues, seems to have been entirely abandoned. This is notwithstanding an internal dialectic on this turn such as the critique to the ‘ontological turn from a (naive) realist ontology to a socially constructed ontology’ (Fleetwood, 2005).
help human imagination gain insight into the unseen, since “the efficacy of analogy, as an illustrative and cognitive tool, hinges on the ontological link between the embodied and the abstract” 84 . Akkach suggests that analogy is the cornerstone of religious expressions concerned with spiritual phenomena, and that “the Quran uses many tangible examples from the seen to explain or describe matters of unseen” 85 . He describes ontology imagination as “the creative source of manifestation, the very cause of our existence, and the powerful intermediary that enables us to remain in constant contact with the infinite and the absolute 86 . Scientific theory that implements the concepts of production and reproduction criticised the rational theory that emphasises the truth claim of the beautiful 87 , and recognises the spiritual aspects of art rather than focusing solely on its objectivity. Foucault’s hypothesis of discourse suggests that images are repetitive, and that’s why they cannot hold inner meanings. He notes that “a discourse does not represent an idea, nor does it embody a figure: it simply repeats, in different mode, another discourse” 88 . Said notes Foucault’s notion of discourse makes the Orient “an integral part of European material civilization and culture” 89 . He asserts the impact of the notion of ‘power of choice’ enabled Europe to acknowledge the Orient as the origin of European science “then to treat it as a superseded origin” 90 . He quotes Valery’s note: “We owe to the Orient all the beginnings of our arts and of a great deal of our knowledge” 91 . In addition to the discourse view, Foucault’s theoretical paradigm of signs refers to the interrelations between things as the main source of their meanings. Said describes this thought as “a feat that moves values from the objects to a privileged space between them” 92 . Rabinow calls this theory an invention of coordination of spatial and social forms. He notes that the experimentation begun in the last two centuries “has been characterised by internationalization of social science and by reform, as well as by technology, colonization, and nationalism” 93 . In this way, the elements of art and culture are understood in terms of their relationships to a larger system and have no significant individual qualities.
sophisticated organisation of production, distribution, marketing, consumption and fashionable attire in Japan in the 17th century. For example, pattern books could be used as a tool by those involved in production (e.g. designers and dyers) but also as a way through which purveyors could entice wealthy consumers as well as a means to keep regions without an established textile industry abreast of fashionable developments. Surveying pattern books over time, one can discern ‘kimono design trends’ (p. 13) through changes to motifs, colours and patterning featured each year. Pattern books also came to include advice on the suitability of particular styles to certain people, based on age, appearance or status. Milhaupt supports this research with a discussion of sumptuary laws issued between the 17th and 19th centuries (often broken), occurrences where named painters were commissioned to design for pattern books, and of woodblock prints featuring celebrities such as kabuki actors and courtesans, who, when depicted in a new colour or design, were imitated by fashion-conscious consumers. While the inclusion of textile practices in Japan during the 17th and 18th century may seem out of place in a book dedicated to the modern history of the kimono, this chapter crucially demonstrates how the kimono operated in a pre-modern fashion system, shattering the simplistic view of Japanese dress as static prior to renewed contact with the West in the mid-19th century. Chapter two, ‘Modernizing the kimono’, discusses how new materials, designs and techniques introduced to Japan during the second half of the 19th century impacted upon the production of fibres, filaments and fabrics as well as their fashionability (who consumed them and why). She also examines the ways in which participation in international exhibitions and visits to foreign factories and workshops familiarised the Japanese with new materials and technologies that they would go on to adapt in kimono production and how this led to the development of mechanized, privatized factories alongside home-based, regional production. The production of kimonos remained largely in Japanese hands due to the particular width of kimono fabric, with which imported cloth was incompatible. This chapter not only looks at what was assimilated from the West following the reopening of Japan’s ports, but importantly also considers interregional influences from Asia. Milhaupt highlights how a change in the consumer base for kimonos resulted from the establishment of the middle class during this period and how sartorial decisions were based increasingly on taste and economic status rather than dictated by birth or sumptuary laws.
Darwin too had read Buffon’s ideas on degeneracy. In a January 9, 1834 diary entry while on The Beagle, Dar- win noted that “it is impossible to reflect on the changed state of the American continent without the deep- est astonishment”. What caused such deep astonish- ment? His explorations in South America had led him to believe that “Formerly it (South America) must have swarmed with great monsters: now we find mere pigmies (sic), compared with the antecedent, allied races”. Dar- win’s thoughts turned to Natural History: “If Buffon had known of the gigantic sloth and armadillo-like animals, and of the lost Pachydermata, he might have said with a greater semblance of truth that the creative force in America had lost its power, rather than that it had never possessed great vigour”.
We present analyzed data of 1483 chil- dren (de ﬁ ned as # 18 years old) hospi- talized at 5 18th-century English hospitals whose records have survived. Com- piled from admission registers, this is the largest database of pre-1800 pe- diatric hospital admissions in exis- tence. Some of its implications for historians of medicine have already been explored in a previous historical article. 6 At the very least, this database
The history of ideas suggests various possible reasons why, with reference to pre-colonial African states, state-village continuity would be stressed by the scholarly analysts at the expense of violence, exploitation and discontinuity. Let us limit ourselves to the Gluckman case. In colonial, Protectorate Barotseland (the fact of its colonial domination was taken for granted and scarcely explicitly discussed in anthropological discussions of internal, ‘tribal’ power relations at the time), Gluckman identified strongly with the Lozi indigenous administration, which accorded him almost princely status and which, moreover, was highly favoured by the colonial administration. As a legal anthropologist, his window on the society of Western Zambia around 1940 was that of formal courts of law in the Lozi heart-land of Mongu-Lealui district; 41 as an economic and political anthropologist, his window was simply the Lozi king’s court at Lealui. Building up professional respectability was still high on the agenda of the young anthropological discipline when Gluckman’s career was at its peak, but of comparable priority – and laudably so, in the face of blatant racism and colonial arrogance – was the vindication of the colonial African subject as capable of creating and governing responsible, well-ordered societies based on philosophical and cosmological principles not inferior to
Manisa, the central town of the province of Saruhan, was located in the Gediz river valley in the hinterland of İzmir, which developed into the primary port for Ottoman agricultural exports from the seventeenth century. Since its conquest, the town was part of the core provinces of the empire, and as such, it was integrated into the larger Ottoman system of taxation, provisioning, and trade (Emecen 1989). Barkey and Rossem (1997) state that as early as the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the Ottoman state had furthered the development of a coherent trading network between Istanbul and Manisa. The town supplied the capital with grain, and several other foodstuffs, shipped from Foçalar and İzmir. In parallel to its incorporation into the world economy in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Manisa became one of the first Ottoman towns to engage in commercial agriculture, with the rise of big farms oriented towards export products. How this affected the town’s crucial role within the provisioning system is not certain. Goffman (2002) argues that as Europe made forays along the Western Anatolian coast for grains, Istanbul increasingly struggled to control its own delivery routes.
on the establishment of Welsh history in academia, and how the medieval period figured largely. The second period, from roughly 1950 until the mid - 1980s, saw more scholarly attention paid to the modern history of Wales, with class becoming an important theme; but apart from studying Welsh migrants and the Atlantic connection, there was little in the way of placing Wales in a broader imperial context. Evans explains: