However, despite similar trends in women’s professional employment, the Hungarian and Russian situations were by no means identical, because of differences in the historical development of socialism in the two countries and because of the relationship between them. In both countries, the history of socialism was fragmented. This meant that gender inclusion policies were not simply ‘adopted’ from the USSR to Hungary; even within the USSR, policies on gender inclusion varied, from a genuine belief in gender equality in the early revolutionary years to the re-traditionalization of gender roles after perestroika. Socialism in Hungary, after the 1956 revolution, was not as zealous as in Soviet Russia. Although
The historical time-series of house construction during the times of the USSR are mentioned in scientific literature, mainly from the point of view of separate regions and cities. Generally research works were dedicated to the history of industrial reclamation of the territories and to the connected with them rates of house construction. A considerable number of works have been analyzed on such regions as Siberia and Ural [1, 2] and industrial regions of the European part of the country . Some of the works were dedicated to specific problems, for example, to the problem of house construction in the Soviet village of Central Russia and the pre-war period , to the post-war reconstruction of the cities .
In the first provisional section (chapters one to three) of his book, Miller describes how, in its search for models of economic reform, Gorbachev and his team of advisors came to embrace the ideas embodied by Deng Xiaoping’s new China of the 1980s. Working with both Politbureau minutes and memos from Soviet academic memos produced in the Academy of Sciences of the USSR, he demonstrates the influence and importance of China as a leading and growing economic power. These 1980s analyses of China’s growth are also helpfully situated in a broader history of Soviet observations of China, providing background and context to the debates of the 1980s. Finally, chapter three sets the stage for Gorbachev’s struggle with ‘industrial enterprises’ and ‘powerful interest groups’ (p. 87) in order to affect change in some way
The oral history of Roma communities as a source of historical information was neglected until recently and only now it began to attract scholars’ attention mostly in studies devoted to their tragic fate during the World War II and in studies dedicated to the memoirs of the time of socialism in countries of Eastern Europe. The oral history reflecting on past migration experiences has remained until now, however, almost outside academic enquiry. We have been fortunate to be able to collect pieces of oral history of one community that returned from China and now is living in the Ukrainian city of Odessa. It is known today under the appellation Kitajcurja or Kitajake Rrom [i.e. Chinese Roma] while sometimes they describe themselves with their Russificated appellation Šanxajci. The elderly people from the Šanxajci community were born in China – some in Harbin and others in Shanghai. The first results of our field research with this community we presented in a comparative theoretical study devoted to the issues of development of the category ‘Roma group’ (Marushiakova and Popov 2004: 145-191).
Notwithstanding, the problem with the existing conceptions of Russian organised crime is their disregard for the history of the Russian state, their inability to understand the socio-economic and political roots of organised crime in Russia, and their exaggeration of the correlation with US history. They do not provide a full account of the emergence and development of organised crime in Russia and its role in the Russian economy today, and overlook the ancestry of state-mafia relationships. My research illustrates that Russian organised crime is not an identifiable hierarchical clear-cut group, or organisation, as there is no such ‘mafia’ or criminal organisation in Russia with a given name, unlike Italian Cosa Nostra or Ngradetta. In 2012 the Obama Administration named one of the Russian organised group “the Brothers’ Circle” as a criminal group that posed a threat to American security, along with other criminal groups like Camorra, the Naples, and the Mexican Zetas cartel. This claim, however, was refuted by some specialists in Russian organised crime. Mark Galeotti (2012) for example, an expert on Russian and Eurasian security affairs and transnational crime, and Academic Chair of the Centre for Global Affairs at New York University, said in an interview with a journalist from OCCRP that “I have not found anyone in Russian law enforcement or elsewhere who actually says ‘yes, the Brother’s Circle is an organisation and it exists. In the context of that particular ordinance, given that you’re associating them alongside more structured organisations like the Yakuza and the Camorra and so on, it was just a handy synecdoche, an overarching term rather than just saying “and these miscellaneous Russian and Eurasian gangsters” ”. He says that the Treasury Department’s grouping of gangsters in this way is “either complete myth, or 99 % myth” 35 . According to Galeotti, the term the US government is using dates
The transfer was radical and very rapid for one of the most religious countries in the Europe. The main differ- ence between the churches of the United States and the Orthodox church of Russia was the fact that before the revolution church was not a secular institute. The iden- tification of the church with the autocratic power alien- ated it from the intellectual part of the society. Orthodox Church throughout its history never had witnessed the Reformation like the one in the Western Europe or any big theological disputes. The conservative views of the church were based on the same ground for about 1000 years of its existence. Subservience to the State and in- nate conservatism corresponded to the actual doctrines of the orthodoxy. The emphasis of changelessness and tradition often led to resignation, withdrawal, and strong anti-world stance (McLellan 1987).
The second case: when there are no other sources of cash to bring off the «grand leap» into industrialization. During the first Five Year Plans in the USSR, grain export supplies were one of the important sources for purchases of imported equipment for plants and factories. The United States, by the way, used both scenarios in their history: while remaining a major exporter of grain, they, at the same time, were developing their industry and by the end of the 19-th century, they had overtaken Britain as the main industrial power in the world. For the second case, one can adduce the following metaphor: a commoner guy from a poor family does not spend the money he has made (modest money, by the way) on beer, entertainment, etc., he invests this money into his education which allows him to secure a much higher salary. Fundamentally, any business is of the same nature: invest now (to spend less on consumption), to gain more later.
I shall deal with the close linkage between the peasant and the national questions in Soviet history, of which Ukraine was the paramount case, especially in Stalin’s reckoning. In this context, the Holodomor will be discussed as a tool that solved, in one stroke, both the peasant and the national “irritants” to the Soviet system and Stalin’s personal power, given Ukraine’s relative autonomy. The legacy of such a solution—for example, in the realm of language and culture—will be addressed. I will, in short, return to the question of the collapse of the Soviet system from yet another perspective, i.e., that of the viability of a state and system whose past is marred by an unacknowledged genocide, possibly more than one. Finally, I will turn to the consequences that the growing awareness of the importance and nature of the Holodomor have had on the USSR’s image and its representation by historians. In particular, the “modernity” of the Soviet system and of the “modernizing” effects of Stalin’s 1928-‐29 policies will be raised.
malaria’ known for causing death, occurred on the terri- tory of the European part of the USSR and in Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan (Fig. 4). Fulminant malaria was com- mon among both children and adolescents and rather rare among adults. Normally, cases of fulminant malaria were reported during the spring and summer months, coinciding with primary manifestations of the disease or following 2–3 relapses in the case of P. vivax with long incubation. Death could occur within 2–3 h  (see Additional File 2). Russian clinicians believed that such forms of vivax malaria were not only species-specific but were also related to the health state of the infected indi- vidual in conjunction with a very poor socio-economic environment .
Large-scale work on the eradication of illiteracy and semi-literacy began as part of the cultural revolution, which involved universal education, multiplication of primary, secondary and higher educational institutions, circulations of newspapers, magazines, books, all- country radiofication, promotion of the achievements of high culture among broad masses . In 1933-1937 schools engaged in literacy over 40,000,000 illiterates and semi-literates. By 1940 illiteracy had lost the character of a pressing social problem. According to 1939 census, the number of literates aged 16-50 was 87.4%. By 1950 the USSR became the country of almost universal literacy. This massive push for literacy gave a historic lesson; the increase in the general educational and cultural level of the people, coupled with the broadening of their outlook, became “one of the essential principles of social reconstruction and the transition to a new quality of society” (ibid.). The rapid social development of national regions is evidenced in Jan Gross's study Revolution from Abroad, based on the records of those Poles who had been in Wladyslaw Anders' army. Although the author was anti-Soviet, he admitted that after the establishment of the Soviet Power in the Western Ukraine, “there were more schools, more opportunities for vocational training and higher education, education in the mother tongue, promotion of physical and artistic development... There was a sharp increase in employment – factories and offices required twice as many workers and employees as before the war... It seemed that many of the usual obstacles, hindering the movement upward, had been removed,” as cited in .
recognize the limits to formal modelling, prompting them to take the idea of historical knowledge more seriously. In terms of economic and financial history, the signs have been subtler but no less telling. Quantitative study remains alive and well, but its promise to uncover the ‘truth of the past’ is buckling under the weight of the competing in- sights it is proving able to generate. This is especially the case when it comes to the Great Depression. Although that episode first emerged as the holy grail of financial cliometrics during the 1980s, the recent crisis has seen the publication of a wealth of new studies that seek to address the policy dilemmas of the present. Work in this vein has focused on topics as diverse as the relation between mone- tary policy and asset-price bubbles, the effectiveness of monetary and fiscal stimulus, and possible exit strategies from crisis-response measures. Of course, when under- stood as a reflection of the complexity of the Great De- pression, this diversity is not a challenge to the field. In fact, if anything, it shores up the claim to objectivity that enabled quantitative history to flourish in the first place. But when viewed as an illustration of the sheer multiplicity of meaning that the past that can bestow upon the pre- sent, which it surely is too, then it hints at the kind of his- torical time that has been systematically repressed within the study of economics. Moreover, when situated along- side other developments in the writing of history, this poly- valence of the past becomes even more obvious. A quick scan of recent financial bestsellers will reveal a return of the Great Depression to narrative history, with new revi- sionist accounts garnering attention in Forbes Magazine at the same time as reprinted old classics are celebrated on the pages of the Financial Times. In effect, these develop- ments indicate the increasingly fragile nature of historical certainty in economics through the mutability of the past in the present. Reinhart and Rogoff’s (2009) recent book may have temporarily succeeded in obscuring this, but its sarcastic title – This Time is Different – is starting to look as though it would be better read literally. In the varying form and content of historical representation that the crisis has unleashed, it has effectively opened up a new and differ- ent temporality. And within this wormhole-like present, the practical past has become the substance of an ongoing and contested historiography.
that. What would it mean for a microcomputer to play the role of the Model T in determining new social, economic, and political patterns? The historical term in that comparison is not the Model T, but Middletown (Lynd and Lynd 1929), where in less than forty years "high-speed steel and Ford cars" had radically changed the nature of work and the lives of the workers. Where is the Middletown of today, similarly transformed by the presence of the microcomputer? Where would one look? How would one identify the changes? What patterns of social and intellectual behavior mark such transformation? In short, how does one compare technological societies? That is one of the "big questions" for historians of technology, and it is only in the context of the history of technology that it will be answered for the computer. From the very beginning, the computer has borne the label "revolutionary". Even as the first commercial machines were being delivered, commentators were extolling or fretting over the radical changes the widespread use of computers would entail, and few doubted their use would be widespread. The computer directed people's eyes toward the future, and a few thousand bytes of memory seemed space enough for the solution of almost any problem. On that both enthusiasts and critics could agree. Computing meant unprecedented power for science, industry, and business, and with the power came difficulties and dangers that seemed equally unprecedented. By its nature as well as by its youth, the computer appeared to have no history. Yet, "revolution" is an essentially historical concept . Even when turning things on their head, one can only define what is new by what is old, and innovation, however imaginative, can only proceed from what exists. The computer had a history out of which it transpire as a new device, and computing took shape from other, continuing activities, each with its own historical momentum. As the world of the computer acquired its own form, it remained submerged in the worlds of science, technology, industry, and business which structured computing even as they changed in response to it. In doing so they linked the history of computing to their own histories, which in turn demonstrate the presence of a fundamentally new resource.
towards the USSR. Turbin then goes on to say that the purpose of his article is to "attract the attention of Soviet philosophers, particularly specialists in the field of ethics, towards the discussion of the very pressing and by no means easy socio-ethical problems associated with genetic engineering". (Voprosy Filosofii 1975 no. 1, p. 47-8) Timakov and Bochkov, while also making the assertion that the problems involved can only be solved in the most advanced social systems (peredovoi obshchestvennyi stroi), conclude their article with the following grim caveat: "It is well-known that catastrophes can be brought about by primitive interference with the environment; but an even greater catastrophe could be unleashed if unjustified activities are carried out on human heredity". "Social responsibility", they say
revolution or whether it could be achieved through peaceful democratic means. In What is to be Done? Lenin came to define his own position regarding the primacy of the political. Against the 'economism' of those who saw socialist revolution arising directly out the economic struggles of the working class, Lenin had argued for importance of establishing a political party which could seize state power. Of course, it was the basis of this 'politicism' which, by implying that the realm of the political can to some extent determine the nature of society, has allowed Leninists to argue that the USSR was a workers' state while at the same time admitting that the social
made their markets wide open, more than any other former USSR country and, in some areas, even more than Central European countries. This led to a great influx of investments, mainly from Scandinavia. The investments stimulated further transformation and economic growth, and proved that there was more and more confi- dence in the Baltic markets and the direction of their reforms. Liberalisation, consistent privati- sation and dynamic economic growth in the 1 9 9 0 s w e re among the reasons that Brussels took into account as it decided to invite the three re- publics to negotiate their EU accession in 1999. Transformations in the energy sector aimed to restructure, commercialise and partly privatise strategic facilities with the preferred, Western capital. In this way, Western investors could gra- dually take over control of the energy sec- tor’s key facilities. In 1999, Mazeikiu Nafta, the Lithuanian oil holding in possession of the Baltic States’ only oil refinery in Mazeikiai and the Bu- tinge terminal, was privatised and taken over by US-based Williams International. In 2000, the government in Tallinn signed the preliminary agreement for the sale of 49 percent of shares in the country’s two largest power plants that ge- nerated 90 percent of Estonia’s electricity to NRG Energy, another American company 29 . Li-
Historians of economics often do small “m” methodology, which has the potential to influence mainstream economics. For reasons I will make my best effort to make clear, there are not plenty of examples of this today, but an earlier concrete example is Lionel Robbins’ early methodological essay. An Essay on the Nature and Significance of Economic Science [Robbins (1932)] redefined the scope of economics and was a defence of abstract theorizing as well as a critique of Marshallian intuitionism. In the essay, Robbins attacks the value judgments on which measurable utility rested. His program was soon after taken up by Hicks and Allen, thus influencing mainstream economics in a significant way [see Backhouse (2003, pp.311-12)] 5 . Outside economics, Thomas Kuhn is a wonderful example of how the interaction between the history and methodology of science can be naturally fruitful.
What Meringlo is expressing here is a clear distinction between more academic styles of history that “translate” or re-iterate history to their audiences, while public historians seek to serve their audiences in a more in-depth way. Meringlo points to serving a community’s needs, and in some way collaborating with them. Podcasts are generally not tied to their audience in a tangible way, such as through programs or activities like other public history projects, but they can still create useful contributions to and collaborate with their audiences. For example, BackStory has freely available teaching resources to serve their potential educator community, using their podcast as not only an entertainment source, but also as an educational resource. Also, outside of the two case studies in this thesis, many other styles of podcasts interact with audience feedback submitted by email or social media in their episodes, making a sort of collaborative content for their shows with their audience.
Analysis and the publication of circulars for the massive collection of material continued as an editorial board consisting of Joseph J. Woodward and George A. Otis was formed. The proposed medical history consisted of six volumes divided into medical and surgical sections. Volume one of the Medical and Surgical History of the War of Rebellion was completed in November of 1870. Work on the books progressed with some editorial changes. George A. Otis passed away in February of 1881 and Joseph J. Woodward died in August of 1884. Editorial duties were then transferred respectively to Surgeon D. L. Huntington and Surgeon Charles Smart at the times of their predecessors’ demise.