identification, and even the use of tachographs to record drivers’ periods of duty
and speeds. All of this was intended to lift the veil of obscurity and make visible
that which was hitherto ‘unseen.’ Before deregulation, then, the taxi industry was
unruly and occluded from the gaze of government, and recommendations to use
regulatory instruments to make visible drivers’ practices folded neatly into a
broader campaign to transform the industry into one which would be governable, at a distance.
Here we are taking government (or ‘governmentality’) to denote
To what extent was Richard Baxter a congregationalist?
tionalists than he wanted to let on in his letter to Edward Burton, whose
misperception was not entirely fanciful.
It suited Baxter’s purpose in that letter to emphasise, in the words of
Bruce Lincoln, ‘distance, separation, otherness, and alienation’ from the congregationalists. In other contexts, however, he needed to convey ‘likeness,
common belonging, mutual attachment, and solidarity’. For Lincoln, the
formation of group identity involves a balancing of ‘similarities and dissimilarities’, ‘affinity and estrangement’. This process creates sentiment or
behaviourist activity; automatons, cardboard cut-outs’.8 Their language
is given with a range of simulated, exaggerated ‘peculiar speech mannerisms or patterns’, not so much attempts at linguistic realism as
visual markers of their distance from the fully realised language-world
of the narration (Conrad’s ‘Mistah Kurtz, he dead’).9 A Glaswegian
character in English literature, Kelman argues in his essay ‘The importance of Glasgow in my work’, can be recognised as a ‘cut-out figure’:
drunk, violent, without ‘a solitary “thought” in his entire life’, whose
protagonist’s life ( 2001 :
63). That this shadow does not correspond to a femme fatale out of a
contemporary film noir is immediately revealed by the reverse
close-up of Lisa’s face approaching Jeff. A new cut to him, now in
close-up with his face completely covered by her shadow, confirms the
absence of immediate danger and anticipates the next shot of Lisa, moving in
slow motion to extreme close-up distance, practically
Georges Méliès is universally acknowledged to be an early film Pioneer. However,
his work has often been dismissed as simplistic, both narratively and
technically. This book primarily aims is to give an idea of the complexity and
the modernity of his work. It also aims to dispel a number of myths about
Méliès's contribution to film history. For a long time, Méliès's work
was cited as the foremost example of 'primitive mode of
representation'; films made before around 1906 were characterized by four
traits. These are 'autarky and unicity of each frame', or framing that
is selfcontained and unchanged throughout the scene; 'the noncentered
quality of the image', or the use of the edges of the frame as well as the
centre; 'consistent medium long-shot camera distance'; and the
'nonclosure' of the narrative. The book examines individual scenes of
some of his films using a model of structural analysis designed for narrative
films. It outlines the technical function of the major special effects, or
trues, used by Méliès. The book also considers Méliès's treatment of
the relationship between fantasy and realism, first by examining a selection of
films that explicitly thematize representation, and then by discussing several
of the actualités reconstituées. It examines the ways in which
Méliès's films blur the boundary between realism and illusion, by examining
first a selection of trick films. This examination is followed by several
actualités reconstituées or early docu-dramas, culminating in an extended
discussion of Méliès's most influential L'Affaire Dreyfus/The
Throughout the long nineteenth-century the sounds of liberty resonated across the Anglophone world. Focusing on radicals and reformers committed to the struggle for a better future, this book explores the role of music in the transmission of political culture over time and distance. The book examines iconic songs; the sound of music as radicals and reformers were marching, electioneering, celebrating, commemorating as well as striking, rioting and rebelling. Following the footsteps of relentlessly travelling activists, it brings to light the importance of music-making in the lived experience of politics. The book argues that music and music-making are highly effective lens for investigating the inter-colonial and transnational history of radicalism and reform between 1790 and 1914. It offers glimpses of indigenous agency, appropriation, adaptation and resistance by those who used the musical culture of the white colonisers. Hymn-singing was an intrinsic part of life in Victorian Britain and her colonies and those hymns are often associated with conservatism, if not reaction. The book highlights how music encouraged, unified, divided, consoled, reminded, inspired and, at times, oppressed, providing an opportunity to hear history as it happened. The examples presented show that music was dialogic – mediating the relationship between leader and led; revealing the ways that song moved in and out of daily exchange, the way it encouraged, unified, attacked, divided, consoled, and constructed. The study provides a wealth of evidence to suggest that the edifice of 'Australian exceptionalism', as it applies to radicals and reformers, is crumbling.
Imperial flying was not just about machines, timetables and routes; it was also about ideas, values and practices. This book focuses on the way airborne mobility itself expressed imperialism. Imperial Airways projected an idealised Britain to the Empire, and interpreted and refracted the Empire to Britons. Passengers in commercial aircraft had adventures in the early days of Empire flying, in a mild way, fleeting, organised overnight stops at foreign places. Writing about and publicising imperial flying in the 1920s and 1930s created the first caricatures of Empire aviation. Words and images about long-distance air journeys, aircraft, landing grounds, passengers, crew and landscapes were necessarily selective and partial. Amy Johnson, in a BBC broadcast, said Great Britain was ready to make a decisive bid for world supremacy in the air. Wealthy people were the passengers (acronym 'PAX' in current airline parlance) on scheduled civil aircraft services in the 1930s on routes between England, Africa, India and Australia. The flying crew and ground staff personified the values of their employer and the Empire. Making the public 'airminded' was certainly part of deliberate acculturation in late imperial Britain; Imperial Airways tapped the Empire for publicity. The virtual mobility, presented by the 1930s texts and images, were enjoyed by earthbound readers and viewers. However, the first life of Empire aviation ended in 1939. In the past six decades, Empire aviation has been actively re-imagined and reincarnated as historical subject, hobby, and period artefact and icon.
For over four decades, events in Palestine-Israel have provoked raging conflicts between members of British universities, giving rise to controversies around free speech, ‘extremism’, antisemitism and Islamophobia within higher education, which have been widely reported in the media and subject to repeated interventions by politicians. But why is this conflict so significant for student activists living at such a geographical distance from the region itself? And what role do emotive, polarised communications around Palestine-Israel play in the life of British academic institutions committed to the ideal of free expression? This book invites students, academics and members of the public who feel concerned with this issue to explore the sources of these visceral encounters on campus. Drawing on original ethnographic research with conflicting groups of activists, it explores what is at stake for students who are drawn into struggles around Palestine-Israel within changing university spaces facing pressures associated with neoliberalism and the ‘War on Terror’. It begins from this case study to argue that, in an increasingly globalised world that is shaped by entangled histories of the Nazi Holocaust and colonial violence, members of universities must develop creative and ethical ways of approaching questions of justice. Tragic Encounters and Ordinary Ethics curates an ethnographic imagination in response to the political tensions arising out of the continuing violence in Palestine-Israel. It invites students and academics to attend to lived experiences within our own university institutions in order to cultivate ethical forms of communication in response to conflicts of justice.
The press was an important forum for debate over the future of India and was used by significant groups within the political elite to advance their agendas. This book is the first analysis of the dynamics of British press reporting of India and the attempts made by the British Government to manipulate press coverage as part of a strategy of imperial control. It focuses on a period which represented a critical transitional phase in the history of the Raj, witnessing the impact of the First World War. The book discusses major constitutional reform initiatives, the tragedy of the Amritsar massacre, and the launching of Gandhi's mass movement. Reforms, crises and controversies of the first two decades of the twentieth century ensured that Indian affairs were brought prominently before the British public. The distance and difficulty of transmission had traditionally regulated news of the Indian empire. The Empire Press Union (EPU) worked to facilitate access to official and parliamentary news for overseas journalists and lobbied vigorously to reduce press costs. Reuters was the main telegraph news agency within India. The early twentieth century saw an increased interchange of news and information between Fleet Street and the Indian press. The Minto-Morley partnership was sensitive to the London press and its possible influence, both within domestic politics and indirectly through its impact on Indian politics and Indian-run newspapers. The Times gave sustained support, with Dawson corresponding regularly with the Viceroy on 'the great subject of constitutional Reform'.
Works of travel have been the subject of increasingly sophisticated studies in recent years. This book undermines the conviction with which nineteenth-century British writers talked about darkest Africa. It places the works of travel within the rapidly developing dynamic of Victorian imperialism. Images of Abyssinia and the means of communicating those images changed in response to social developments in Britain. As bourgeois values became increasingly important in the nineteenth century and technology advanced, the distance between the consumer and the product were justified by the scorn of African ways of eating. The book argues that the ambiguities and ambivalence of the travellers are revealed in their relation to a range of objects and commodities mentioned in narratives. For instance, beads occupy the dual role of currency and commodity. The book deals with Henry Morton Stanley's expedition to relieve Emin Pasha, and attempts to prove that racial representations are in large part determined by the cultural conditions of the traveller's society. By looking at Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, it argues that the text is best read as what it purports to be: a kind of travel narrative. Only when it is seen as such and is regarded in the context of the fin de siecle can one begin to appreciate both the extent and the limitations of Conrad's innovativeness.