This book is a critical examination of the relationships between war, medicine, and the pressures of modernization in the waning stages of the German Empire. Through her examination of wartime medical and scientific innovations, government and military archives, museum and health exhibitions, philanthropic works, consumer culture and popular media, historian Heather Perry reveals how the pressures of modern industrial warfare did more than simply transform medical care for injured soldiers—they fundamentally re-shaped how Germans perceived the disabled body. As the Empire faced an ever more desperate labour shortage, military and government leaders increasingly turned to medical authorities for assistance in the re-organization of German society for total war. Thus, more than a simple history of military medicine or veteran care, Recycling the Disabled tells the story of the medicalization of modern warfare in Imperial Germany and the lasting consequences of this shift in German society.
the state's desire to both reform the sexually deviant, and defend the entire social body from dangerous or potentially dangerous moralities.
Casting itself as protector, the state thus rationalised its forcing of both young women pregnant outside marriage and women working as prostitutes into an ‘architecture of containment’: institutions founded on a denial of these women's freedom in order to protect them.
Privileging the aspirant social policy above the
The legendary poet and boxer Arthur Cravan, a fleeting figure on the periphery of early twentieth-century European avant-gardism, is frequently invoked as proto-Dada and Surrealist exemplar. Yet he remains an insubstantial phenomenon, not seen since 1918, clouded in drifting untruths. This study processes philosophical positions into a practical recovery – from nineteenth-century Nietzsche to twentieth-century Deleuze – with thoughts on subjectivity, metaphor, representation and multiplicity. From fresh readings and new approaches – of Cravan’s first published work as a manifesto of simulation; of contributors to his Paris review Maintenant as impostures for the Delaunays; of idle dissipation in New York as a Duchampian readymade; and of the conjuring of Cravan in Picabia’s elegiac film Entr’acte – The fictions of Arthur Cravan concludes with the absent poet-boxer’s eventual casting off into a Surrealist legacy, and his becoming what metaphor is: a means to represent the world.
The autobiography of Kitty Marion was written in the early 1930s but never published. It records Marion’s childhood in Germany, her life in British provincial theatre and music hall and her campaigns against the ‘casting couch’, a career as a militant suffragist or suffragette during which she committed numerous acts of arson, was imprisoned and suffered force feeding, and finally her move to America and involvement in the American birth control movement. The Epilogue details her life in New York after the end of the autobiography, including her work in the Federal Theatre Project, while the three appendices reproduce extracts from key archive documents which throw additional light on the autobiography. An Introduction outlines the problems Marion incurred trying to publish her story, its subsequent history and addresses some of the issues that her story raises about women’s history of activism.
This book presents a new and accessible translation of a well-known yet enigmatic text: the ‘Epitaph for Arsenius’ by the monk and scholar Paschasius Radbertus (Radbert) of Corbie. This monastic dialogue, with the author in the role of narrator, plunges the reader directly into the turmoil of ninth-century religion and politics. ‘Arsenius’ was the nickname of Wala, a member of the Carolingian family who in the 830s became involved in the rebellions against Louis the Pious. Exiled from the court, Wala/Arsenius died Italy in 836. Casting both Wala and himself in the role of the prophet Jeremiah, Radbert chose the medium of the epitaph (funeral oration) to deliver a polemical attack, not just on Wala’s enemies, but also on his own.
and social privilege the wealthy enjoy comes at the expense of the
poor whom they rob of sustenance.
After condemning the wealthy for fleecing the poor, Idley
advocates a shift in worldview that should motivate generosity. His
argument starts from but then subverts social convention. Casting
the poor as servants, Idley points out the respect given to those
employed by the wealthy: ‘But and ther com to you a messager fro
a kyng or a duke, / ffro on Erle or a knyght or a symple squyere, / In
youre best wyse ye woll make hym chiere’ (2.B.2231–3). The rich
‘Numbers games’ and ‘holocausts’ at Jasenovac and Bleiburg
David Bruce MacDonald
‘Serbophobia’ or ‘Greater Serbia’. This chapter reviews two of the most
important persecution myths emerging from the Second World War.
Revising the history of the Ustaša-run death-camp at Jasenovac was a useful
means of casting Serbs as the victims of a ‘Holocaust’ by Croats. On the
Croatian side, the massacre at Bleiburg (Austria) by Communist forces (or
Serb-led Communists, as the case might be) in 1945 was also likened to the
Holocaust. In both cases, the other side was accused of committing genocide,
using either the mask of Nazi or Communist domination to
Reinventing medieval leprosy for the modern world, 1850–1950
Kathleen Vongsathorn and Magnus Vollset
and contemporary, to aggrandise the medieval religious and philanthropic tradition of healing the leprosy sufferer.
Philanthropic perspectives on medieval leprosy
Leprosy has long been a disease of contradictions, and while modern Europeans were casting medieval Europeans in a negative light to suit their own medical, social and political agendas, they were also looking to their medieval ancestors for positive inspiration to philanthropy. Many of the same authors who wrote about the isolation, stigmatisation and cruel treatment of leprosy sufferers in medieval
included the rejection of sympathy as a medical doctrine, the waning influence of texts like Hudibras , and the much wider shifts in professional medical practice at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Histories of plastic surgery, including those in surgical texts, began to depict Tagliacozzi as an epoch-defying medical pioneer. The subsequent casting of his practice as ‘silenced’ by early modern prejudices has shaped histories of plastic surgery to the present day.
To prepare for the return of skin-flap rhinoplasty, we will finish with
The marginalisation of both
Count Dracula and Baron Frankenstein in British horror cinema of the
1970s was only one part of a much wider rejection and casting out of
those male authority figures who had been so important in earlier
Hammer horrors. At the same time the question of the woman’s
desire – a troubling element in The Sorcerers (Michael
Reeves, 1967) and The Devil Rides Out (Terence Fisher, 1968)
– became a more pressing and unavoidable issue in 1970s
horror, with this sometimes