effort. This chapter provides an example of how voluntary work was organised on the domestic front in Ireland from August 1914 to meet the increasing demands of war, focusing on one specific initiative – the work of the Voluntary Aid Detachments (VADs) 1 in the Royal College of Science for Ireland in organising the collection, treatment and delivery of Sphagnum moss as an alternative medical
The history of relief work is in its infancy. This book draws on new archival research to reveal the priorities of nineteenth-century relief workers, and the legacies of their preoccupations for relief work today. It first explores the inauguration of the British National Society for Aid to the Sick and Wounded in War (NAS) at the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian War in 1870 under the figurehead of Loyd Lindsay. Then, the book sees the revival of the NAS for work in the Balkans during a period of nationalist violence and Ottoman counter-insurgency which culminated in the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-1878. It also follows the staff of relief committees as they dispensed aid in British colonial wars. The book examines the critiques of British policy in the Boer War (1899-1902) emanating from intersecting circles of Quakers, New Liberals and ethicists, and considers these groups' offer of aid to Boer civilians. Further, the book concentrates on the methodologies of relief for Boer inmates of British concentration camps in South Africa and on the implications of this relief for its intended recipients during and after the war. It concentrates on aid to British soldiers. The book closes by tracing continuities in vocational practices and dispositions to emerging areas of concern in the post-war period, in particular child welfare, and briefly considers their implication for relief work today.
’s perspective. Stories are integral to human communication and our primary means of transmitting experience. The oral narratives that comprise this book’s sources are stories; that is, they are narrated versions of parts of autobiographical memory. They are interpretations of the past. In his essay on ‘The painter of modern life’, the nineteenth-century French poet Charles Baudelaire, whose work ushered in modern(ist) ideas about subjectivity, wrote that when a work of art is viewed, what reaches that spectator is not the painter’s replication of a scene from reality, but a
This book focuses on the paradoxical character of law and specifically concerns the structural violence of law as the political imposition of normative order onto a "lawless" condition. The paradox of law which grounds and motivates Christoph Menke's intervention is that law is both the opposite of violence and, at the same time, a form of violence. The book develops its engagement with the paradox of law in two stages. The first shows why, and in what precise sense, the law is irreducibly characterized by structural violence. The second explores the possibility of law becoming self-reflectively aware of its own violence and, hence, of the form of a self-critique of law in view of its own violence. The Book's philosophical claims are developed through analyses of works of drama: two classical tragedies in the first part and two modern dramas in the second part. It attempts to illuminate the paradoxical nature of law by way of a philosophical interpretation of literature. There are at least two normative orders within the European ethical horizon that should be called "legal orders" even though they forego the use of coercion and are thus potentially nonviolent. These are international law and Jewish law. Understanding the relationship between law and violence is one of the most urgent challenges a postmodern critical legal theory faces today. Self-reflection, the philosophical concept that plays a key role in the essay, stands opposed to all forms of spontaneity.
installations – factories, railway depots, and so on – were surrounded by the communities whose members worked in them. Home and family were at the centre of children’s worlds, and journeys across bombed towns to find them were nailed to adult memories of the aftermath. Children also encountered death – first-, second- and third-hand – in the wake of air raids; these were public, violent deaths, that contributed to juvenile understanding of war and bombing. War drew the public and private realms together, but wedged between state and citizen was community. Assistance in the
‘nests’ of Nazis, ferociously holding onto the port towns. Eighty per cent of all raids on France took place during 1944. Yet for some, bombing had been part of daily life since 1940. The study of everyday life in France during the Vichy years is a field still growing. For example, recent work by Shannon L. Fogg, Nicole Dombrowski Risser and Julia S. Torrie is testament to a growing interest in the political dimensions of everyday life. Torrie’s work in particular shifts the discussion significantly towards civilian rather than daily life: it recognises that much of
clandestine publishing made it impossible for resistance movements to consider publishing for children, the BBC French Service in London broadcast to children in France from summer 1941. ‘Fifteen Minutes for French Children’ (Le Quart d’Heure des Petits Enfants de France) was largely written by the Gaullist journalist Yves Morvan (known as Jean Marin) and by Miriam Cendrars (daughter of the writer Blaise Cendrars), who also worked with Georges Boris v 184 v Explaining bombing to children at de Gaulle’s headquarters, Carlton Gardens. So while the Free French and the BBC
edge. They are adamant that German and Vichy propaganda did not work on the French population. Again, they demonstrate broad awareness of the time, such as the names of broadcasters and collaborationists, who are no longer household names, but are well enough known to those with an active interest in the Vichy era. Perhaps Michel and Claude were this aware in their youth; perhaps they have both read a great deal about it in their adult lives. The point here is their emphatic denunciation of the effectiveness of anti-Allied propaganda. They wanted their audience – me
German orders.3 All of Boulogne-Billancourt’s schools were closed in September 1943.4 In Paris, Max Potter revelled in his freedom from April 1944: ‘I was on holiday for six months!’ Claude Thomas (Boulogne-Billancourt) attended six or seven different schools between 1939 and 1946. Of a sanguine disposition, he did not view these changes as damaging overall, saying ‘we worked normally. We adapted to it.’ It was different for others. Andréa Cousteaux (Brest) regretted the curtailment of her schooling: ‘I’d gone to secondary school. But not long after, they closed it
law, there are the disagreements, compromises, and/or impositions from which a particular, normalizing, legal framework emerges. This might suggest that we can curb the violence of the law and escape the paradox by drawing attention to the discussions and struggles from which a normative framework arises. The law as impersonal imposition could be replaced with law as a set of negotiated standards agreed by a group of people amongst themselves, and open to renegotiation where the group sees fit. But, for Menke, this solution will not work because the people doing