Colonial Caring covers over a century of colonial nursing by nurses from a wide range of countries including: Denmark, Britain, USA, Holland and Italy; with the colonised countries including South Africa, Australia, New Zealand, Ethiopia, Nigeria, India, Indonesia (Dutch East Indies) and the Danish West Indies. It presents unique perspectives from which to interrogate colonialism and post-colonialism including aspects of race, cultural difference and implications of warfare and politics upon nursing. Viewing nursing’s development under colonial and post-colonial rule reveals different faces of a profession that superficially may appear to be consistent and coherent, yet in reality is constantly reinventing itself. Considering such areas as transnational relationships, class, gender, race and politics, this book aims to present current work in progress within the field, to better understand the complex entanglements in nursing’s development as it was imagined and practised in local imperial, colonial and post-colonial contexts. Taking a chronologically-based structure, early chapters examine nursing in situations of conflict in the post-Crimean period from the Indian Rebellion to the Anglo-Boer War. Recruitment, professionalisation of nursing and of military nursing in particular, are therefore considered before moving deeper into the twentieth century reflecting upon later periods of colonialism in which religion and humanitarianism become more central. Drawing from a wide range of sources from official documents to diaries, memoirs and oral sources, and using a variety of methodologies including qualitative and quantitative approaches, the book represents ground-breaking work.
effects of racial and colonial dominance on
mental illness. ‘The issue of race hits you in the face here [ ce
problème noir ici vous saute à la gorge ], whereas in France,
[people think that] Martinique is just France’, Dolto commented.
‘The psychoanalytical point of view is completely absent … the sense of
personal or internal family conflict isn’t among their categories.’ 4 Dolto felt intimidated. 5 Notwithstanding the influence of the
Martinique-born Frantz Fanon on the radical psychiatry of the 1960s with which she
intended not only to help individuals, but to
improve the overall psychological health of the French nation – or, as she revealingly
referred to it, the French ‘ ethnie ’ (race or ethnic group). She assumed
an overwhelmingly white and culturally Catholic audience. She did not foreground the voices
of people on the margins of French society or particularly seek to appeal to immigrant
communities; working-class and immigrant areas were underrepresented in her mailbag. Her
thinking was shaped in an era and a milieu that took for
[ ethnie ], with its specific values, will be able to emerge from this
without some profound upheavals.’ 81 A kind of national revolution was still required, with education at the
Lorsque l’enfant paraît
A further result of the post-1968 educational reforms
was that renewed attention was paid to nursery and primary schooling. Jacques Chirac’s
1974 government appointed Annie Lesur, a doctor, to the newly created post of secretary of
state for pre-school education. Some 84 per cent of French
Dolto, psychoanalysis and Catholicism from Occupation to Liberation
race’ by understanding the ‘whole man’. 10 This example suggests an undercurrent of racial and colonial
anxiety in the entire holistic tendency – a sense that France might not be able to
maintain its empire if it did not make use of all available tools to maximise the physical
and mental quality of its white population.
Freudian psychoanalysis had some natural affinities with these holistic
approaches, and indeed helped to inform them. Freud’s writings suggested that the
whole of a person’s history and the entirety of their
as missing links or ‘monkey-men’ compelled the public to
question whether such entities could be considered fully human. One of the
more famous of these ‘wild-men’ had a ‘keeper’ and was exhibited in a cage for
much of his career. While he actually hailed from New Jersey, he was said to
have been found by a group of African explorers, who ‘came upon a group of
this race that had never before been seen’. According to Robert Bogdan, this
mysterious tribe was advertised as having been found ‘in a “perfectly nude
state”’, and moved ‘through the trees and their
generations of nurses took advantage of the opportunities presented by the presence of new healing spaces to improve themselves, and so did the later generations of nurses. The fact that the government opened nursing to African women due to structural changes in Rhodesia in the 1940s did not mean that African women were not able to imagine the possibilities offered by the nursing profession. I highlight that in an environment that limited women’s opportunities because of their gender and race, African women used nursing as a ladder to secure a better life for themselves and
cocoa-butter soluble pessary and Lambert’s ‘Pro-Race’ cervical cap; these goods were frequently imitated and imitators were most commonly the growing number of disreputable ‘surgical’ or ‘rubber’ stores that sought to profit from existing demand.
In focusing on the importance of intellectual property before ‘Durex’, this chapter draws attention to the tensions between the traditional and the modern in this period – Rendell’s ‘Wife’s Friend’, first manufactured in 1885, had long been established by the interwar period, while Lambert’s ‘Pro-Race’ cervical cap was
reliable and trusted measurements.
In the following section, ‘Defining disease’, I begin by outlining the main arguments relevant to philosophical attempts to define disease – naturalism and normativism. I bring sustained attention to the reference class problem in the section titled ‘By no means average: the reference class problem’ and explore the ways in which ‘correcting’ for attributes like sex, class and race (or not) impacts on the measurement of normalcy. In relation to the scholarship on reference classes, I discuss whether disability could ever be considered
Confronting the legacies of empire, disability and the
disabled people in contemporary Australia as being one of ‘apartheid’, not least due to the elements of social segregation, political isolation and economic marginalisation at stake.
A similar tactic has been to deploy the language of race – intimately bound up, as race is, with processes of colonialism and imperialism – to suggest the way in which disabled people have been, and continue to be, stigmatised. Leonard Kreigal most famously made this case when he discussed ‘the cripple as Negro’ in British and American