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migrations is the aim of international human resource management (IHRM) studies. IHRM research is conventionally said to have emerged as an academic field in the 1980s, centrally in response to intensifying globalisation. This chapter instead shows that a vibrant debate on the type of labour migrant now thought of as the ‘traditional expatriate’ already existed in the 1960s and 1970s. However, what is now the ‘traditional expatriate’ was at the time called a ‘new breed of expatriate’. Tracing the emergence of this ‘new breed’, the chapter shows that, then as now, IHRM
orientation towards the past that constrains present practices and this is most evident in discussions about farm forestry. But as will be seen, the resistance to this form of externally imposed knowledge appears to be related to the value placed on factors other than economic return rather than being indicative of a conservative mindset towards innovation. Ancestors in the field: farmer identities and the temporal orientation of farming knowledge cultures Many farmers have exhibited a strong buy-in to the productivist discourse since the 1960s. It concurs with farmers
references, but also by the expectation – triggered by the narrative at the very beginning – that participation in the performance will involve illicit and dangerous acts. As in Vertov’s Man With a Movie Camera , A Machine To See With demands active interpretation of the artistic montage. However, in the latter this montage is assembled dynamically as the participant progresses through the performance. This experience draws from a lineage of post-1960s avant-garde art movements associated with the performative turn. The post-1960s performative turn The term
3 Partners for improvement? Corporate vandalism in Islington and Camden Having seen how the PFI public housing regeneration programme emerged under New Labour after 1997, this chapter tells the story of residents’ experiences of PFI schemes in the neighbouring north London boroughs of Islington and Camden. In Islington, PFI was selected as the regeneration vehicle for the thousands of street properties in the borough municipalised during the 1960s and 1970s, with the works divided into two separate contracts: PFI-1, which started in 2003; and PFI-2, which
industrial ones like Manchester. These cobbled passages and alleyways were laid out to provide easy access to the backs of terraces for the delivery of basic goods such as coal, and the easy removal of rainwater and household wastes. They predominated in working-class areas of industrial cities where building speculators maximised the available space for housing, while also abiding by the sanitary regulations laid down by the municipal authorities. In the 1960s, it seemed, for a time, that the Manchester alleyway would become a thing of the past. In this decade, Victorian
Monuments Shopping centre – Martin Dodge Since the medieval period, the heart of Manchester and the hub for shopping has been Market Street. At the start of the twentieth century it was regarded as overly congested and an inadequate thoroughfare for the cotton metropolis. Many schemes were advanced to widen it and the surrounding narrow streets to provide space for larger retail premises and easier pedestrian movement. Yet it was not until the 1950s that serious plans for redevelopment were drawn up by officials in the Town Hall. By the mid 1960s, a
place. The former campus of the University of Manchester Institute of Science and Technology (UMIST) is a cluster of high-rise modernist buildings dating from the 1960s, set in leafy, landscaped grounds just south of the city centre. The sense that this was the university’s centre for new discovery and innovation is subtly reinforced by a series of public artworks, commissioned in the late 1980s and early 1990s, and inspired by themes such as combustion and insulation; one even depicts a naked Archimedes rising from his bath at the moment of inspiration. Public art
Manchester: Something rich and strange challenges us to see the quintessential post-industrial city in new ways. Bringing together twenty-three diverse writers and a wide range of photographs of Greater Manchester, it argues that how we see the city can have a powerful effect on its future – an urgent question given how quickly the urban core is being transformed. The book uses sixty different words to speak about the diversity of what we think of as Manchester – whether the chimneys of its old mills, the cobbles mostly hidden under the tarmac, the passages between terraces, or the everyday act of washing clothes in a laundrette. Unashamedly down to earth in its focus, this book makes the case for a renewed imaginative relationship that recognises and champions the fact that we’re all active in the making and unmaking of urban spaces.
live, work, study and have raised my family. As an author I have written about the lives of immigrants: my novel Revolt (2013), for example, captures the feeling of displacement immigrants often feel – of being lost between two worlds. In my latest book, The Concubine & The Slave-Catcher (2017), I focused on my father’s generation in a story called ‘Escape’, exploring what it was like for these men who arrived in England in the 1960s. Men who, like my father, were invited to come to the UK through the voucher system, as Britain was in need of workers after the Second
1960s), the burning of coal powered not only the growth of Manchester but an entire global empire of cotton. If these chimneys have now, in the main, disappeared from Manchester, replaced by a new verticality of skyscrapers, then the legacy of these technologies is profound and long-lasting. Climate change was in effect kick-started by these brick structures bellowing carbon into the atmosphere. What was considered a localised problem of smog, pollution and air quality in Manchester has now become planetary in scope, even as the chimneys stopped smoking and the soot