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In this article I examine the context for the British bank Barclays’ decision to disinvest from South Africa in 1986, with special attention to the impact of the Anti-Apartheid Movement’s campaign against the bank. The 18-year long campaign against Barclays – the largest bank in South Africa at the time and the fourth largest foreign-owned corporation – points to significant developments within the fields of corporate social responsibility and the potential influence of social movements on multinational corporations. Applying the theoretical approach of subpolitics as developed by Ulrich Beck in combination with the later subdivision by Boris Holzer and Mads P. Sørensen into a passive and an active form, it is possible to analyse the decisions of both anti-apartheid activists and Barclays on similar terms. The conclusions drawn in this article emphasise the idea that economic decisions taken by multinational corporations may have unintended political consequences and, furthermore, that the awareness of this phenomenon has contributed to the development of corporate social responsibility. Finally, I suggest that the campaign against Barclays generated public attentiveness towards the social responsibility of businesses.
How are people made into subjects, and how do they make themselves into subjects? - asks Wiebke Wiede and presents in the article the most important theoretical approaches to the functioning of "subjectification" in the 20th century. Subjects constitute themselves in historical space and are subject to institutional structures and subject definitions that are historically contingent. Accordingly, the cultural orientation needs of our present are also reflected in subject theories.
Queuing as a quintessential experience of Soviet everyday life: hardly any other motif has shaped our images of the late Soviet Union as much as the long lines of people persevering in front of shops and grocery stores. Besides hopes of purchasing essential and rare goods, the social aspect of this practice was also important, as exemplified by Vladimir Sorokin’s 1983 novel “The Queue” surrealistically exploring interactions of people queuing for an unknown commodity, or Olga Grushin’s 2010 book “The Line”, which unfolds a Soviet family’s everyday longings, hopes and obsessions based on rumours about a concert by a famous exiled composer, and a street kiosk that may or may not have tickets on sale.
As a striking phenomenon of Soviet consumption, Beriozka stores appeared in the late 1950s and existed until the end of the 1980s. This chain of stores was a state trade organization selling goods that were otherwise in short supply (cars, fashionable clothes, household appliances, etc.) for special ‘checks’ used as equivalents of foreign currency by special groups of Soviet citizens. Similar stores existed in other socialist countries. The article shows that these stores on the one hand became an element of the existing system of state-granted entitlements. The customers were Soviet citizens who earned money abroad as well as people who did not go abroad but received remittances from foreign sources. On the other hand, the development of the black market (barely persecuted by the state) made it possible to purchase Beriozka checks for roubles; so it granted access to sought-after goods (among them even goods from the West) to a wide range of consumers. Paradoxically, Beriozka was criticized and much frequented at the same time.
This year marks the 500th anniversary of the Reformation, specifically of Martin Luther nailing his 95 theses to the door of the church in Wittenberg. There can be no doubt that the Reformation had a profound and long-term impact on European civilization. Will there be agreement 400 years from now that Lenin’s April Theses precipitated an event of world-historical significance?
The peculiar admiration that National Socialists had for Henry Ford and the supposed sympathies that the Detroit industrialist harbored for Nazism keep attracting the curious, both academic historians and Internet dilettantes. There is something irresistible about the connection between the man taken to symbolize American industrial modernity and the quintessential villains of the twentieth century.
How does the collapse of the Soviet Union alter or confirm existing theories about empires? Perhaps the most important element of the Soviet collapse for theories of empires was the very fact that the Soviet Union was labeled an empire in the first place. After all, the Soviet Union was founded, as Terry Martin has put it, as “the world’s first postimperial state,” to the European imperial system.
Narratives of Indian responses to the British Empire are usually structured around the ‘national movement’. This essay attempts instead to understand some of the psycho-social and psycho-political dynamics of a colonised society in the first half of the twentieth century. It takes a strategically subjectivist view of the British Indian empire in attempting to approach the subject not from the perspective of retrospective scholarly work, but from perspectives that can be seen to have been relevant to those who experienced that empire. In doing so, it also decentres the national paradigm, which merely reifies the category ‘Indian’, without enabling us to get any closer to non-elite figures, or indeed to relatively elite figures who did not belong adequately in the ‘national movement’. This narrative, therefore, tries to address some of the perspectives of marginal figures and groups, to the extent this is possible, while acknowledging that an Alltagsgeschichte of the British Indian Empire remains to be written.
What is striking about recent research on residential care is not only its national bias and its tendency to neglect regional variations in ‘texture’, but also its preoccupation with contemporary issues and its lack of historical context. The notion of contingency, that is, the idea that things might have evolved differently, often seems to be missing. Moreover, most of the literature appears to be one-dimensional, downplaying the diversity, complexity and ambiguity of real developments. It often lacks an awareness of the power of precedents in shaping society’s attitudes to residential care and the practical responses to this problem. This is particularly important because, as this article tries to demonstrate, the present situation of residential care reflects the cumulative impact of traditions and cultural norms, of past decisions and commitments.
After a seven-year period of military dictatorship and following the reestablishment of parliamentary democracy in 1974, historical studies have been a continuously developing field in Greece. Similarly as in Spain and Portugal at much the same time, archives became accessible for academic historians. The general public’s expectations about the establishment of historical ‘truth’ concerning the recent past were pressing.1 It is against this backdrop that we propose to review the changing conditions of historical research and especially the challenges involved in gaining access to primary sources, in particular those related to ‘national matters’. We will try to show the ways in which the particularities of the Greek case have to do with the history of civil rights in the country in the twentieth century, both during the interwar years and – more dramatically – during the Cold War period.
In recent years, streaming services such as Netflix, Hulu and Amazon Prime offered the possibility to access internationally produced television shows and movies. One recent trend is content with a historical set or background. Although historical sets and productions have played an important role in cinematic story-telling since the early twentieth century, the immense amount of newly available digital content has a significant impact on a society's cultural memory. Cultural memory is an integral part of a society’s identity; it is often static and its ‘horizon does not change with the passage of time’. It is reproduced in museums, statues, remembrance days, and texts. It is the type of memory which society can collectively call upon and recall. While cultural memory may feel vague or encased in glass cases in museums, a historical television series brings memory alive while munching on popcorn on your sofa.
This year marks a number of anniversaries of significant events of Czechoslovak history, starting with the declaration of independent Czechoslovakia in 1918; the Munich Agreement of 1938, which sumitted Czechoslovakia’s border areas to Hitler’s Germany; the communist takeover of 1948; and finally, the Prague Spring and subsequent Soviet-led invasion of 1968. Dubbed the “year of eights” [osmičkový rok] by the Czech media, historical reflections on the part of witnesses, historians, journalists and pundits alike are rife in the press, on the radio and on television. Yet as historian Pavel Kolář writes, when it comes to the events of 1968, “the anniversary has so far not brought any distinctive impulse” and sees this as a confirmation that “with each round anniversary, the significance of ’68 as one of the focal points of Czech memory is declining”.[1] What then remains of the eventful year of 1968 in Czech memory, fifty years on? This article will briefly examine the media response, which acts as a significant vehicle of memory, to both the reformist efforts of the Prague Spring and their suppression by Warsaw Pact tanks in the Czech Republic.
The Nazi occupation of large parts of Europe destroyed cities, towns, villages and entire landscapes. Every year on 10 of June, the French village of Oradour-sur-Glane commemorates the massacre that transformed the village into a scenery of ruins. The day has a resonance of death and horror in the Czech village of Lidice alike.
As Hannah Arendt anticipated in 1951, refugees have become a major issue in contemporary societies. Writing just three years after the Universal Declaration of Human Rights had been adopted in 1948, Arendt argued that refugees exposed a fundamental tension between universal human rights and the sovereignty of nation-states. For Arendt, human rights were an abstraction; the only real rights were those possessed by citizens.
»Hits für das Tonbandgerät, Alben für den Plattenspieler? Die Markteinführung des Tonbandgerätes in Westdeutschland und die Urheberrechtsdebatte über Musikaufnahmen jugendlicher Konsumenten in den 1950er und 1960er Jahren«. Since the late 1950s, tape recorders were increasingly to be found in West German households. This device for the first time gave the consumers the opportunity to record music from records or from the radio. This triggered off discussions between the record industry and the GEMA (Society for musical performing and mechanical reproduction rights) on the one hand and tape recorder producers and users on the other hand. Whereas the former complained about falling record sales and called for the introduction of copyright fees, the latter argued that the tape recorder offered a large range of applications and that therefore a collective charging of producers and/ or users would not be justified. Against the background of the changing legal situation, the article retraces the copyright debate and evaluates the opponents’ arguments. In spite of the manifold functions of the tape recorder, young consumers predominantly employed it to record their favourite light music. But these appropriation practices did not cause an overall decline in record sales but rather a change in music consumption patterns. While the possibility of recording single hits did in fact lead to falling sales figures of 45rpm-discs, sales of longplaying-records rose considerably
This article discusses key aspects of the symbolic politics of the British and West German anti-nuclear-weapons movements in the late 1950s and early 1960s. More specifically, it examines the interaction between protest, politics, the media and the public sphere. It proposes two analyses of the protests: first, as the creation of a public sphere by means of "street politics" and, second, as a key to establishing an emotional community of protesters both in a national and transnational context. The media played a crucial role by enabling isolated protests to be perceived as parts of broader movements. The article argues that protests in both countries by and large adhered to, rather than transcended, the dominant national cultural codes. These movements thus exemplify the ways in which international relations, transnational links and national protest traditions interact.
Andree Kaiser (*1964) was trained as a photographer in Pankow, a district in East Berlin. He served a prison sentence in various detention centers of the State Security Service, commonly known as the Stasi, for his attempt to flee German Democratic Republic (DDR). Kaiser got out in 1986 as part of a prisoner release. He started his photojournalism career at Reuters in 1988 and afterward joined several agencies, which resulted in several assignments with travels to eastern European countries. Between 1991 and 1993 he conducted several reportages in Bosnia, Croatia, and Serbia for Newsday (New York). His photos following the breakout of the war in former Yugoslavia had been featured in international exhibitions: “Faces of Sorrow: Agony in the Former Yugoslavia” at the US Holocaust Memorial Museum, “Crimes of War” at the International Criminal Tribunal (The Hague), “Yougoslavie: Déchirures” at SIPA Press in Paris. Decades after the Bosnian War, the US Holocaust Memorial Museum hosted Andree Kaiser’s pictures coming from Syria. He went to Azaz, Bab al-Hawa, Asseharia to witness with his camera another war tragedy and another spectacle of horror.
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.
Oral history has been enriching the theoretical and methodological debates of German-language contemporary history research for over forty years. While early skepticism towards oral history has long since given way to its broad (and sometimes uncritical) acceptance and application, there is still much debate about what exactly it is as both a method and a research field, and what value for historiography – and as source material – it has. In our contribution to the debate, we explore how oral history has developed over time, which international and interdisciplinary influences have proven significant, its underlying theoretical and methodological concepts, and which factors might shape its future.
Awkward Object of Genocide: Vernacular Art and the Holocaust in and beyond Polish Ethnographic Museums was a initiative carried out at the Research Center for Memory Cultures at the Faculty of Polish Studies, Jagiellonian University, Kraków, by a group of four scholar-curators. The original aim of the project was to explore public and private Polish ethnographic collections in search of art objects referring to, representing, or commenting on the Holocaust. In our project we propose that this unique genre of the visual document, which has received little attention in studies regarding the Holocaust so far, could offer new insights, as well as forge new arguments, different from those commonly employed in attempts to understand the experience and memory of the Holocaust in Polish provinces.