direct work in both
design and construction. Finally, there was a professional dimension which,
out of all the above, received the most attention in Parliament, the press and
the pages of periodicals and pamphlets. Leading shipwrights, naval officers and
Tory and radical politicians actively engaged in debates about professional
status, skill and experience in relation to authority.
Constructing an authority
Symonds spent considerable energy in fashioning his identity as a ‘sailordesigner’, but this was little compared to the time and capital his supporters
For much of the twentieth century women police often played a key role in the detection and prevention of child abuse, neglect and the 'policing of families'. This book examines the professional roles, identities, activities and experiences of women police in the United Kingdom. It comments on the gendering of modern surveillance technologies, on the relationship between justice and welfare, and on the changing situation of women in the twentieth century. The book shows that assumptions about class, status, gender and sexuality were both challenged and reinforced by women police. Although institutional structures and hierarchies - including those of gender -shaped the women police officers' professional experiences, the senior officers achieved considerable success in creating their own professional networks. The book examines the status and 'respectability' associated with women's work in the police service, and focuses on personal testimony in order to discuss women's perceptions of themselves. It analyses women's operations within the technologies of physical surveillance, dealing with both uniform beat patrol and undercover observations. The regulation of specific groups was done through policewomen's 'specialist' role: firstly, the policing of family, youth and child welfare; and secondly, the regulation of sexuality in relation to adult women. Given that police duties were shaped by legislative frameworks and by institutional strategies, opportunities to transform daily practice were ultimately limited. Despite positive and approbatory statements from women officers regarding integration, women as a whole were far less likely to be promoted than male colleagues in the 1970s and 1980s.
The global financial crisis of the early twenty-first century focused attention on the processes that sustain the excesses of corporate capitalism. This book gives an account of the role played by literature in human subjectivity and identity under the working conditions of late-capitalism as these affect the well-being of specialist, middle-class and public sector professionals. It explores how the organisation struggles to reconcile the flexibility and responsiveness characteristic of modern business with the unity and stability needed for a coherent image. Next, an examination of business survivor manuals addressing the needs of employees failing to cope with time-pressure and the required transformation into perfect new economy workers discovers their use of appealing narrative principles. The book covers the theoretical foundations on which assumptions about the subjectivity and identity of the professional middle class have been made, including the ideological pressures and contradictions. It also investigates satisfying work more fully through analysis of popular practical instruction books on cookery and horticulture. The book considers how organic activities involving slow time, such as horticulture, cookery and the craft of writing about them, give a strong cultural message concerning the current organisation of time, work satisfaction and relationships. In particular, it deals with how the human feels attuned to balance, continuity and interconnectedness through the cyclical patterns and regulated rhythms of slower evolutionary change evident in natural systems. The nature of the autobiographic text is also considered in the book.
This book takes a body of ethnographic data collected in 2001-2, during a year's fieldwork at the Bank of Scotland (BoS) and HBOS, and revisits it from the perspective of the 2014-16 period. It explores the tension between the 'ethnographic present' of the author's original research and the unavoidable alteration of perspective on that data that the economic crisis has created. The original research had been planned to take place in the BoS but in 2001, before the research began, BoS had merged with the Halifax to form HBOS. The book provides a long-term historical perspective on BoS/HBOS, from inception to the 2008 financial crisis, and then a consideration of the nature of historical explanation, under the rubric of 'theory'. The main attempts to explain the proximate causes of the 2008 crisis, as well as more encompassing political economic arguments about the trajectory and dynamics of capitalism are examined. The concept of 'culture' as applied to both national groups, Scots and English, and organizations, BoS and Halifax, are also dealt with. The book examines other governing concepts such as organisational change in the business world and social change, identity and the way Scottish and English experience their own personhood, and comparative nature of ethnographic research. The conclusion reviews and draws together the themes of the book, returning to the overarching question of historical perspective and explanation.
What makes a good historian? When historians raise this question, as they have
done for centuries, they often do so to highlight that certain personal
attitudes or dispositions are indispensable for studying the past. Yet their
views on what virtues, skills or competencies historians need most differ
remarkably, as do their models of how to be a historian (‘scholarly personae’).
This volume explores why scholarly personae were, and are, so important to
historians as to generate lots of debate. Why do historians seldom agree on the
marks of a good historian? What impact do these disagreements have on historical
research, teaching and outreach? And what does this tell about the unity, or
disunity, of the field called historical studies? In addressing these questions,
How to be a historian develops a fascinating new perspective on the history of
historiography. It challenges conventional narratives of professionalization by
demonstrating that the identity of the ‘professional’ was often contested. At
the same time, it shows that personae could be remarkably stable, especially in
relation to race, class and gender assumptions. With chapters by Monika Baár,
Ian Hunter, Q. Edward Wang and other recognized specialists, How to be a
historian covers historical studies across Europe, North America, Africa and
East Asia, throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, in liberal
democracies and authoritarian regimes alike. The volume will appeal not only to
readers of historiography, but to all historians who occasionally wonder: what
kind of a historian do I want to be?
and suggestive. Listings published (erratically)
in some daily and weekly publications provide fragmentary clues to
passenger identities. The lists are reminiscent of those printed so
that socialite residents of port cities might know who had just
arrived by sea. The Empire commentator Jan Morris remarked that the
passenger lists which Imperial fed diligently to British
expand our understanding of the earl and his circle, as well
as the ways in which his identity was shaped and refashioned during and
after his life. In addition to essays which offer single author studies as a
means of prising open long-held assumptions about the earl’s life,
others provide a diachronic approach to the earl’s career, identifying
crucial events such as the Irish campaign and the uprising in order to
DGH psychiatric nurses at Withington General Hospital, 1971-91
to evaluate its development from their perspective. Nurses
were not only the largest staff group, but the nature of both their
work and their working hours meant that they were omnipresent.
They thus occupy a dual function in the narrative, as both actors
and witnesses. The chapter explores how nurses both contributed
and adapted to the DGH environment. This process helped forge a
new professional identity, far removed from that of the traditional
asylum nurse and also quite distinct from that of the CPN. Since
it is the figure of the CPN who dominates both
This book talks about late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century English medical culture, a study of what it meant to be a doctor and how this changed over time. It presents a brief overview of the social, economic and cultural landscape of late eighteenth-century York. Medical culture and identity in late eighteenth-century York took shape within a social landscape shaped by the values of gentility, polite sociability and civic belonging. The book examines the role of intellectual liberality, demonstrating how public displays of polite and 'ornamental' learning were central to the performance of medico-gentility. It explores the incipient demise of this culture. Through a close reading of a scandal which enveloped the York Lunatic Asylum, it also explores the ways in which medical identities founded upon gentility and politeness were critically undermined by the political and social factionalism. The book looks at medical involvement in the provincial scientific movement, examining how local medical men positioned themselves relative to the so-called 'march of intellect', the cultural and ideological alignment between science and social reform. It continues this analysis in relation to the cholera epidemic of 1832 and other medico-political activities. The book considers how the professional dominion over healthcare was forged by the dual processes of inclusion and exclusion. It discusses the foundation of the Medical School in 1834 against the trial, in the same year, of a local salesman for James Morison's 'Universal Vegetable Medicine'.
As the British and French empires expanded, constructing new imperial dimensions through growing commerce and the relationships of industrialisation, the bases of Spanish power were being undermined. Nationalism, revolt, the pursuit of forms of decolonisation (often aided by Spain's rivals) became the prime characteristic of Central and South American politics. This book examines the study of natural history in the Spanish empire in the years 1750-1850, explaining how the Spanish authorities collected specimens for the Real Jardín Botanico and the Real Gabinete de Historia Natural. During this period, Spain made strenuous efforts to survey, inventory and exploit the natural productions of her overseas possessions, orchestrating a series of scientific expeditions and cultivating and displaying American fauna and flora in metropolitan gardens and museums. This book assesses the cultural significance of natural history, emphasising the figurative and utilitarian value with which eighteenth-century Spaniards invested natural objects, from globetrotting elephants to three-legged chickens. Attention is also paid to the ambiguous position of Creole (American-born Spanish) naturalists, who were simultaneously anxious to secure European recognition for their work, to celebrate the natural wealth of their homelands. It considers the role of precision instruments, physical suffering and moral probity in the construction of the naturalist's professional identity. The book assesses how indigenous people, women and Creoles measured up to these demanding criteria. Finally, it discusses how the creation, legitimisation and dissemination of scientific knowledge reflected broader questions of imperial power and national identity.