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After the Second World War, West German Catholics placed more faith in religious miracles than they did at almost any other period in the modern era. West German congregations reported eleven apparitions of the Virgin Mary to Church officials be-tween 1945 and 1954, as well as Europe’s most prominent twentieth century case of stigmata. Existing scholarship links the popularity of these alleged miracles to the ways in which Marian symbolism articulated anxieties about war trauma and the Cold War. This article illustrates how an interconnected movement of rural women, provincial priests, concentration camp survivors, and former prisoners of war based around Marian visions and stigmata emerged as a reaction not only to the Cold War, but also to Americanisation, consumerism, and the Nazi past. To frame the bitter conflicts between Marian pilgrims and Church hierarchy about the recognition of religious miracles, the article utilises Pierre Bourdieu’s concept of ‘religious field’. It also takes into account the gendered character of the conflicts.
Rereading a book is always an uncanny experience in multiple temporalities. If the linguistic turn has taught us anything, it is that the context of reading shapes the meaning of the text that is read. The historicist impulse to reconstruct the original context on the basis of the text itself is at best an asymptotic, at worst a quixotic, pursuit. Yet texts remain, some more so than others. Those texts which continue to be read and reread long after their original context has passed we call ‘classics’. This is a term most frequently applied to literature, of course, but also to philosophy and other scholarly works animated by a generalising impulse. It pertains to works, in other words, which lay claim to a significance transcending their original context. It is rarely applied to works whose principle value is empirical or narrowly scholarly. These are presumed to be only temporarily useful interventions into an ongoing scholarly debate, in which later works draw on and ‘supersede’ the insights of earlier ones, rendering their predecessors superfluous. (Rather the reverse of Jove and his children.) Consequently, relatively few works of historical scholarship are considered classics in the full sense. History’s emphasis on the particular, its frequent skepticism of theoretical generalisations, and its embrace of archival empiricism have all tended to preclude the emergence of a broad canon of ‘historical classics’. There have, however, been exceptions to this rule.
A Cold War Museum for Berlin
(2009)
The Cold War is ancient history to young people now. They have no idea of the underlying issues that fueled the Cold War or how it evolved and affected people’s lives. Current college and university students (aged 18-26) were between zero and six years old when the Berlin Wall came down, which is to say they did not live during the Cold War and have no direct understanding of what it was. It really is history to them, seemingly as distant as World War II or maybe even the French Revolution. The Cold War world, of mutually assured destruction, communism vs. capitalism, and Berlin on the front line divided by a wall, has been replaced by fears of terrorism, global warming, and financial crisis.
Is popular music a tool of consumer capitalist recuperation or can it be a weapon of revolutionary change? The career of the radical rock band Ton Steine Scherben, founded in West Berlin in 1970, suggests that at certain moments, radical music and radical politics can be mutually constitutive. The band’s history provides a richer understanding of the radical left-wing scene in West Berlin at a key moment of transition from the student movement of the 1960s to the anarchist and terrorist scenes of the 1970s, illustrating how an analysis of popular music in its social and cultural setting can broaden historical analysis.
The internationalization of ideas is an old idyll, and an old anxiety. “The invasion of ideas has followed on from the invasion of the barbarians”, the aged François-René de Chateaubriand wrote in 1841, in his last reflections on the new “universal society” which was no more than a confusion of needs and images”: “when steam power will have been perfected, when, together with the telegraph and the railways, it will have made distances disappear, there will not only be commodities which travel, but also ideas which will have recovered the use of their wings”. This universe of fluttering and floating ideas is at first sight exhilarating for intellectual history. A world in which ideas soar across the frontiers of distance and nationality is also a world full of ideas, and a world of opportunity for intellectual history. But all is not, I fear, as encouraging as it appears. The international or transnational turn which is such a powerful preoccupation of present historical scholarship may even, in the end, be subversive of the old enterprise that Marx described disobligingly in 1847 as “sacred history – the history of ideas”.
Different factors have been proposed to explain the longevity of the communist system in Romania: social control by the secret police, external pressures, or foreign control. However, the most common explanation is that of the Romanian people’s ‘passivity’. Many commentators distinguish between two groups in Romanian society, victims and collaborators, and hold the entire Romanian nation responsible for communism since it did not oppose the system and its authorities. Over the last few years, Romanian sociologists have begun to study communist society more systematically. They have developed new interpretations of the causes of the longevity of the system in terms of the transformation of social identity under communism and general fear. This article advances a complementary explanation, focusing on the perception of social security, and draws on a series of interviews conducted in the summer of 2009 in Romania and a number of public surveys conducted between 1999 and 2009.
Migration has been a constant feature of human history – "homo migrans" has existed ever since "homo sapiens". Moving away from the traditional nation-based dichotomy of emigration – immigration, the less specific term migration allows for many possible trajectories, time spans, directions and destinations. It can be temporary or long-term, voluntary or forced. It can occur in stages or in cycles, and can be mono-directional or more varied. Generally speaking, however, human migration can be defined as crossing the boundary of a political or administrative unit for a certain minimum period.
There is no single answer to the question: What is intellectual history? Commenting in the mid-1980s on two recent volumes dedicated to the sub-discipline's methods and perspectives, John Pocock wryly remarked: "I recommend reading them, but after doing so myself, I am persuaded that whatever 'intellectual history' is, and whatever 'the history of ideas' may be, I am not engaged in doing either of them." In the United States, in many respects the heartland of intellectual history, the scholarly community has grappled with the ambiguous relationship of "intellectual history" to "the history of ideas" for almost a century.
"Global history" refers to a wide range of research approaches that are typically characterized by a rising interest in alternative conceptions of space beyond methodological nationalism and Eurocentrism. It builds on a multitude of detailed research projects in all branches of historiography, ranging from economic history to cultural history and from gender history to environmental history.
‘Silenced Power’. Warfare Technology and the Changing Role of Sounds in Twentieth-Century Europe
(2011)
How did the technological ability to manipulate the sounds of weapons affect warfare in Europe during the twentieth century? The article first observes the role of warfare sounds in Europe prior to the First World War. The focus here is on the connection between the large-scale use of artillery and rapid-fire technologies and the development of sonic perceptions of ‘sounded power’ during the late nineteenth century. The second part discusses the introduction of ‘soundless weapons’ during the First World War. The horror of ‘silenced power’ as a force undermining the long-term tradition of ‘sounded power’ on the battlefield is exemplified by the case of gas warfare in the First World War and its long-term influence in Germany during the Weimar Republic and National Socialism. The paper points to existing gaps in research regarding the role of sound and silence on the battlefield, and further argues that although the notion of ‘silenced power’ was more prevalent in the first half of the twentieth century its potential horror could not be ignored after 1945.