From the perspective of the current historical moment, Advertising Empire stands as a work that is unique in that it looks not simply at the ways history has been wrought discursively. Put differently, in a time where digital-screens have become the dominant mode of communication in Western society, Ciarlo pauses to look backward and critically reflect on a time when the ability to compose and mass produce images was a profound step forward. As visual rhetoric theorist Sonja K. Foss put it, “[t]he study of visual symbols from a rhetorical perspective...has grown with the emerging recognition that such symbols provide access to a range of human experience not always available through the study of discourse” (303). In this regard, Advertising Empire serves as a mirror by which today’s civilization might read itself.
The creation of a database requires finding and organising the crucial data which Stephen Small among others recently called for, which can function as a point of departure for further research into 'lives, histories and experiences'. 4 In part this about furthering the recovery of the forgotten presence of both individuals and groups; a process with a long history that gained considerable momentum with the publication of Farbe bekennen in 1986. 5 A mixture of personal testimonies, scholarly essays, group discussion and poetry, Farbe bekennen presented a first overview of the history of the Black presence in Germany. The work of recovery was continued by one of the volume's editors, Katharina Oguntoye, and by Paulette Reed-Anderson in the 1990s. 6 Both made use of materials found in the German National Archive (Bundesarchiv) in Berlin to compile lists of basic biographical information pertaining to around 150 individuals of African heritage who they had uncovered in their research. 7 These have served as an important starting point for much of the work that has followed on Black German history. 8 More recently based partly on the Bundesarchiv material Pascal Grosse first in 2002, and again in 2008, estimated the number of Africans and their German-born children recoverable in the archival records at just over 500 for the entire
Moreover, he had recently been embroiled in yet another acrimonious conflict involving the Zukunft. During Harden’s imprisonment for lèse-majesté in 1899 the Social Democratic publicist Arthur Berthold had functioned as acting editor and was officially responsible for the Zukunft. While under Berthold’s supervision, the Zukunft had reprinted parts of an extremely nasty review of Mehring’s Geschichte der deutschen Sozialdemokratie by the prominent bourgeois historian of the labour movement, Georg Adler (1863-1908), which was first published in the Zeitschrift fUr Socialwissenschaft.^ The sections of the review that the Zukunft deemed worthy of being made known to a wider audience claimed that Mehring had lifted extensive passages from his earlier anti-Socialist history of the movement but now arbitrarily drew diametrically opposed conclusions from them, often by merely changing single words to invert the argument. Essentially, then, Adler had offered yet another variation on the theme that Mehring was not to be trusted because of his chequered political past. The ensuing dispute with Berthold over his responsibility for the publication of this attack on Mehring turned into a protracted and messy affair leading to proceedings before a court of arbitration on 3 June 1902. In the end, Berthold was harshly reprimanded but not expelled from the party. Ordinarily, as the chairman of the court of arbitration, the long-standing treasurer of the Parteivorstand, Alwin Gerisch (1857-1922), explained at the Party Congress in Munich in the autumn of 1902, a comrade acting as Berthold had done would of course be expelled. Berthold, however, was ‘a party comrade whose mental structure is altogether idiosyncratic [eine ganz eigenartige seelische Organisation]’ and ‘there will never be another Berthold in the party.’ Hence ‘the majority felt compelled to take this personality, this individuality into account,’ when settling for the strongest possible reprimand that could be directed at a party member.^ Perhaps more importantly, however, Mehring too was reprimanded by the court of arbitration for having taken Berthold to task in an unduly injurious form. Mehring promptly transferred his disappointment and outrage at this outcome onto the two arbitrators appointed at his behest, Rosa Luxemburg and Arthur Stadthagen (1857-1917), a radically inclined lawyer who contributed regularly to, and was later one of the editors of, the Vorwarts and represented the constituency of Potsdam VI Niederbarnim in the Reichstag from 1890 until his death.
Around the time of the Franco-Prussian war and subsequent German unification in 1870-1, the Hungarian government was in the gradual process of constructing and securing the dualist system through numerous laws and institutions. As Rannicher observed, the principles of state sovereignty and ‘modernization’ were often invoked to justify the goal of building a unitary Hungarian state. In general, this meant policies of standardisation and Magyarisation, though there was room for negotiation and the rates of implementation varied from sector to sector, region to region. Increasingly, Saxon rights, traditions and everyday life were affected. This was the situation when Wilhelm Wattenbach, a medieval historian at Heidelberg University, stayed with Teutsch during the summer of 1869. Upon Wattenbach’s return to Heidelberg, he held a series of lectures about the Saxons. 43 The final published pamphlet mixed popular history, political commentary and traveller’s impressions. After a cursory overview of Saxon history, Wattenbach portrayed the current situation as Saxon defence of their church and schools against an assertive Hungarian state. 44 The Saxons, according to
psychoanalytic groups (the therapists who stayed on and the emigrants) fought against each other. The emigrants were in close contact with the ideas of the international psychoanalytic society and became official members. They criticized the psychotherapeutic group that remained in Germany, which may have been influenced by Nazi ideology according to their new psychothera- peutic theories and practices. In addition to these groups, psychiatrists (E.Kretschmer) and other clinicians supported the development of psychotherapy in Germany by founding special training sessions (Lindau- psychotherapeutic-week) or scientific journals (Psycho- therapy, Psychosomatics and Medical Psychology, 1948). Also, other individuals involved in theory (W. Reich) and the practice of body therapy (E. Gindler, M. Fuchs) have influenced the evolution of German psychosomatic medicine, as well as new psychotherapeutic methods of group therapy, family therapy, and gestalt therapy.
Replenishing the Earth seeks to explain why English-speaking people multiplied in number so dramatically between the late eighteenth and early twentieth centuries, and how they accumulated so much wealth and global power. This is a contribution to the “great divergence” debate, but also a central element in recent attempts to rethink the history of British overseas settlement and to restore that history to a key place in our understanding of empire. Belich imagines an Anglo-world that incorporated two distinct but related, and very similar, demographic and economic systems. One encompassed Britain as its core and a periphery of settler offshoots in Canada, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa. The other was composed of an east-coast American core and a settler periphery stretching to the west. Belich thinks partly in terms of connections — those between each core and its periphery, and also to some extent between the two cores, with Britain providing a substantial amount of the investment, and a significant number of the migrants, needed to kick-start American growth. However, Replenishing the Earth is essentially a work of large-scale comparison, and one that emphasises the underlying similarities between different examples of English-speaking settler expansion around the globe. The two systems within Belich’s Anglo -world both expanded at a dramatic, unprecedented rate in the period he covers, generating “explosive colonization”, a boom -and-bust cycle of rapid acceleration alternating with sharp contr action. The “progress industry”— an alliance of public and private investment in infrastructure and development — drove the boom, employing frontier crews of hard-working and hard-living young men. After the bust, further growth depended on effective “re - colonization”, the tightening up of connections between the core and the periphery. Replenishing the Earth is based on detailed case studies of a wide range of different places, and demonstrates the benefits of thinking beyond the boundaries of the British empire, and of examining how the British empire connected and compared with other global systems of power: in the ca se of Belich’s analysis, most notably with the nascent American empire. 63
professional core of officers and instructors served as the cadre for a large citizen militia army, based on the Swiss model. Male citizens were obligated to undertake compulsory part-time military training and apart from small units of coastal defence artillery and cadre staff, there were few full-time soldiers to command. This system had begun before the First World War, and after the wartime expansion that created the Australian Imperial Force, there was a reversion to the earlier model in the post-war era. In 1914 there were 3,000 permanent force members and 42,000 militia soldiers, and in 1939 only 1,800 permanent soldiers and 27,000 militia soldiers. 29 Australia had also established a four year officer
discussion of Godfrey of Viterbo’s depiction of William of Montferrat (p. 381) would certainly have been somewhat different, had Godfrey’s earlier imprisonment by William’s son Conrad been taken into account. Moreover, the appropriation of the mythical Frederick as a precursor of the second Reich was certainly strong and ubiquitous in Wilhelmine Germany, but it should not be exaggerated, at least as regards the crown prince Frederick (pp. 526–7). When he followed his father onto the throne in 1888, he chose to be named Frederick III, continuing the counting of the Prussian kings, and not Frederick IV, which he would have been if his court lawyers had indeed seen the Reich as the continuation of the Holy Roman Empire. In general, Freed’s Frederick appears as a ruler whose agency was very much dictated by the agreement of the princes. These magnates, not only on the highest levels of the German nobility, formed the networks of kinship, friendship and loyalty that held together the medieval empire. Freed is an eminent specialist of the German nobility and in his book does a masterful job in keeping the various factions and political parties, the different groups, families and dynasties apart. It is in these chapters that his book is at its most erudite: in the parts that show how the various networks of 12th-century Germany stretched into various strata of society and how they – in their friendships and enmities – set the framework for political action in the empire.
Di Cosmo's careful reading of the received texts and especially his contextualization of their accounts allows him not only to undermine the monochromatic picture of putative Chinese 'racism' as presented by Dikköter and others, but also to restore the complex dynamics of Chinese relations with the Rong, Di and other tribes. Different, and at times contradictory, doctrines co-existed among ancient Chinese statesmen with regard to the proper treatment of the aliens: proponents of aggressive conquest and incorporation of the 'barbarians' were opposed by supporters of a peaceful policy, while harsh statements about the aliens' 'bestiality' did not prevent Xia ('Chinese') states from trading, allying and intermarrying with their neighbours. This diversity of approaches reflects not only a complex political situation, but also a deeper cultural reality. Di Cosmo's observation that the 'boundaries between presumed cultural communities in the Eastern Zhou (770-256 BCE) period appear to have been drawn ad hoc, according to ever-changing political circumstances' (p. 104) is an important reminder to the readers that the retroactive imposition of imperial cultural definitions on the pre-imperial world is methodologically untenable. Indeed, pace Han dynasty thinkers, Chinese statesmen of Chunqiu ('Springs and Autumns', 772-453 BCE) and Zhanguo periods were much more preoccupied with the struggle against their 'brethren' who shared a similar written and ritual culture, than with repulsion of the 'uncultivated' aliens.
transfers across the border also became matters of concern. For instance, in an article entitled “Why do people move from the GDR to West Germany? Why do people from West Germany move to the GDR?,” GDR Review employed some false objectivity by only addressing those West Germans that came to the East 99 and were photographed showing smiling children by the lake and parents who are content with their newly-acquired job security. 100 GDR Review pushed this tactic even further when it addressed discontent within the GDR over not being able to travel to countries outside of the Eastern bloc. Rather than attribute this to Cold War geopolitics or genuine fears of mass emigration, GDR Review claimed it was due to Western nations not recognizing the GDR and, by extension, GDR passports. 101 Thus, recognition more generally became a means of overcoming the abnormality of the situation between the two Germanys, but also of shifting blame from the GDR to its Western antagonists who were increasingly shown to have no regard for peaceful relations in Europe.
through his history of the conquest of India: ‘the most reliable definition of an imperial practice remains that of the privilege to declare the exception to the norm’ (p. 337). He lists examples of this privilege of declaring the exception to a norm constructed by those in pre-eminent nation-state power (previously, by those in imperial power), such as the decision of who gets to sit on the UN Permanent Security Council, the decision of who acceptably may house nuclear weapons, the decision to allow for differential treatment of victims of tragedies. In this final example, he compares the way that American victims of the recent BP gas spill have been treated compared to the victims of the Union Carbide gas leak in Bhopal, India, in 1984. Furthermore, as a way to demonstrate how the career of empire’s technologies live in the present day, he mentions how imperial ventures today by powerful states like the United States proceed both by pedagogical discourses of violence (justified in Iraq by the United States) and through non-violent means (Saudi Arabia and Burma, as examples).
published the following year by George Robertson in Melbourne. Kirmess’s tale consolidated a set of conventions established in the late nineteenth century by William Lane’s White or Yellow: The Story of the Race War of A.D. 1908, which was serialised in the Boomerang in 1888, and Kenneth Mackay’s The Yellow Wave, which was published by Bentley in London in 1895. These narratives imagined the inundation of the continent by industrious Asian hordes bent on seizing a predominantly unoccupied continent often with the help of a European Imperial power. An increasingly decadent society softened by the effeminate leisure and civility of urban life renders the colonies vulnerable, and the situation is exacerbated by the impotence and corruption of a ruling political class besotted by self-aggrandising Imperial connections and material self-interest. Resistance, virility and true Australian community are attributed to cooperative bands of mounted bushmen, who display a level of independence, self reliance, courage and durability derived from their selfless commitment to an ideal of masculine community and a willing struggle with the harsh and demanding Australian environment.
with the benefit of hindsight, opinion had somewhat shifted. Although he supported the defence of principal stations and stressed a need for better steam and telegraph communication, C.H. Crofts suggested in 1902 that to have too many coaling stations was a weakness. Indeed, he proposed that the assertion of Captain Stone in 1889 that ‘the possession of naval arsenals, dockyards, and coaling stations must practically decide the question of naval supremacy’, had overstated their importance, and instead ‘their real defence is the existence of a supreme British navy’. 235 The 1911 Encyclopaedia Britannica echoed a similar sentiment when it asserted that ‘it is probable that they will play a somewhat less important part than has been assumed. A fleet which is able to assert and to maintain the command of the sea, will not find great difficulty in its coal supply’. 236 Although this seems damning, it is perhaps worth considering that by the 1900s, Germany, whose threat was entirely from the North Sea, had replaced France as the main rival to Britain, explaining why British overseas bases had lost some of their importance. Indeed, Germany’s inability to challenge Britain overseas, and its subsequent concentration in Northern European waters, meant that Britain’s strategic priorities had to alter too. This change necessitated that ships were withdrawn from the empire to bolster the home fleet. Thus, although coaling and docking facilities allowed Britain the potential to be hugely powerful globally, a lack of ship numbers in the wider world actually made Britain fairly vulnerable to surface raiders such as the Emden and the Scharnhorst. Yet, even with this weakness, Germany did not possess the infrastructure to sustain enough cruisers outside of European waters to cause Britain major problems. Indeed, Britain’s control over naval
The enduring ambivalence of the Indian, the impossibility ‘of coming to terms’ with the settler, can be confirmed in the constant lamentations about the incoherence and inconsistency of ‘Indian law’ or, more immediately, in the long lines of cases which successively defy resolution yet repeatedly insist on it. (Wunder 1994: 3-4; Frickey 1994: 418; Harring 1994: 4). Ruling perceptions of that same Indian law perversely indicate its significance. So, in line with the occidental strategy of marginalizing the foundational, we have Wunder’s remarking that the ‘dominant society’ often classifies ‘Indian disputes as obscure and inconsequential’ (Wunder 1994: 3-4). In the same vein, Frickey has assembled a catalogue of epithets directed at ‘federal Indian law cases by [Supreme Court] Justices themselves’, these august authorities describing such cases as ‘crud’ and ‘peewee’ cases, and worse (Frickey 1993: 383). Another indication of perilous marginality: Friedman’s greatly influential A History of American Law devotes but a few words to Indian peoples (Friedman 1973: 443-4). All of which attests to the potency of the insignificant. The Indian cases were, and are, the legal equivalent of Durham’s judgement that:
This characterization is certainly a gross over-simplification, indeed in many respects a travesty. The present paper suggests some of the diverse ways that psychoanalysis was actively deployed in an attempt to combat the Nazi threat and argues that a more nuanced history of the relationship is required. That would entail reading more closely what was actually produced, and thereby to rescue what were in fact strikingly different psychoanalytical endeavours from later caricatured accounts. Some analysts, no doubt, were slow to see the extent of the danger, politically myopic, or worse, but psychoanalysis also pitched itself in a variety of ways directly against Fascism. The book burnings conducted at the beginning of the Third Reich exemplified Nazi antipathy towards psychoanalysis, and indeed towards any meaningful psychotherapeutic ethos. Freud’s work was of course in very good company on the fires in Berlin. To emphasize Nazi hatred for psychoanalysis is not to deny the discomforting history of ‘fellow travelling’, by some practitioners, nor to disregard the development of the notorious Göring Institute in Berlin, nor still Freud’s slowness to break off relations during the 1930s with those who continued to practise in Germany under the Nazis. 2
In the largest internment camp at Alexandra Palace in London, the well know anarcho- syndicalist Rudolph Rocker informally led the 3,000 inmates of the camp, delivering no less than 139 lectures to Anglo-German internees in the period 1915-19 (Butt, 2011). Rocker, after being deported back to Germany, emigrated to America and finally published the influential Nationalism and Culture in 1937. The internment was a key part of trauma formation for some families and individuals in both their attempts to avoid it or their experiences of undergoing it. Much more could be said about the experience of internment and its social causes, it was clearly a source of huge resentment and social suffering. There is currently research going on led by the Anglo-German Family History Society to try and establish in more detail what happened and to whom (Mitteilungsblatt, 2013 p. 36).
Taking on this task will require a more expansive survey of the humanist intellectuals than what appears in what I take to be the most important chapter and contribution of this book, the lengthy chapter seven, ‘Humanist nationalism’ (pp. 119–79). Hirschi is spot on to emphasize the humanists’ retrieval of earlier texts, their subsequent editing, and the humanists’ philological investigations for nationality (pp. 158–9), that is, the elevation of the importance of history to understand – or, as formulated by Hirschi, ‘construct’ – the present, for example, not only the discovery and editing of Tacitus’ Germania but also the exploitation of its various accounts such as that of Arminius to assert a temporal continuity of the past with the present, another example of which is Beatus Rhenanus’ Three Books on German History of 1531(pp. 207–9). The rich evidence of this excellent chapter serves to substantiate Hirschi’s argument for the crucial role played by the humanists in formulating a national discourse that, in turn, contributed decisively to the formation of nationality. Although outside the purview of the book, his argument can rightly be extended to encompass other areas, for example, the establishment and defense of the English common law by Coke, Selden, and Hale, hence the arguments over the continuity of the ‘good old law’, all of which presuppose the temporal depth of the historical outlook (and which – note well – would not have been possible without the earlier Bracton and that peculiar institution of English legal education, the Inns of Court). However, deserving of attention are those numerous humanists – for example, Carlo Sigonio, Joseph Scaliger, Isaac Casaubon, Petrus Cunaeus, Johannes Althusius, of course Hugo Grotius and John Selden, and many more – who, in the investigation of the past, looked past Rome to ancient Israel. Our problem is to ascertain the significance of why they did. When pursuing this problem we will not be content with an explanation that limits itself to the influence of the Reformation; for doing so begs the questions that are important in the investigation of Occidental nationality.