resentment they often attracted. Thriving minorities were a cause for both celebration and vigilance, their robustness singling them out as potential threats to rust en orde (peace and order) as much as worthy recipients of Ethical welfare.
It was for similar reasons that, in the 1890s, the colonial government sent ethnographic photographers – Jean Demmeni and A. W. Nieuwenhuys (1864–1953) – to investigate political relations in Pontianak and Samarinda before establishing colonial offices there
The Dutch colonial world during Queen Wilhelmina’s reign,
photography across a transnational realm that included overseas colonies. Pakubuwono X's photograph album is but one of many examples discussed throughout this book of how both elite and ordinary subjects of the Dutch queen in the East Indies, Indonesians as well as Europeans, used photographs to make subtle political communications with Wilhelmina and each other. These encounters included diplomatic exchanges, appeals to a powerful institution for recognition and negotiations of subjecthood. Pakubuwono X's photograph is also one among countless examples of visual
’ ( troonrede ) to the Dutch parliament, the States-General. Wilhelmina's oration outlined an inquiry into the ‘diminished welfare’ ( mindere welvaart ) of Java's people and the decentralisation of the colonial administration.
Nowhere did Wilhelmina actually use the words ‘Ethical Policy’. The phrase was instead coined by a journalist, Pieter Brooschooft (1845–1921), in what became a renowned pamphlet on colonial politics published several months before Wilhelmina's troonrede , in July 1901.
had been circulating in Indo-European political circles since the 1920s, when Indonesian nationalism first raised the spectre of discrimination against people of mixed ethnicity. The issue became more urgent in 1946 when anti-colonial militias murdered thousands of Eurasians during the so-called bersiap emergency, and nationalist forces concentrated tens of thousands more in ‘protection’ camps.
Even so, the impact of the migration lobby on Dutch foreign policy in the late 1940s was ironic, given that most of the
Mass photography, monarchy and the making of colonial subjects
understanding of oranjegevoel (‘Orange sentiment’) as a simple expression of political conservatism, colonial nationalism or ethnic solidarity among the Dutch in the Indies and other Dutch colonies.
It is, however, in keeping with the flexible meanings ascribed to imperial monarchies in multi-ethnic colonies with no juridical citizenship.
I therefore argue for oranjegevoel to be understood as a historically specific emotion that was not just personally but also
Photographic encounters between Dutch and Indonesian royals
thus reciprocated by the vast majority of Indonesian royals who refused to meet her on Dutch soil.
Among the numerous truants at regnal milestones for Wilhelmina, the royals of Central Java were prominent in sending photographic portraits of themselves as diplomatic gifts. The absence of these royals from the queen's court in the Netherlands therefore needs to be understood as a political act in two parts: first, a refusal to simply present themselves as the vassals they were
During Wilhelmina's reign, Indigenous princes, sultans and rajas throughout the Indonesian archipelago still numbered in their hundreds, but all were formally subject to Dutch authority. A patchwork of political relations between these rulers and the colonial state had been cobbled together over centuries of Dutch expansion, changing alliances, processes of negotiation and wars of subjugation. In the Princely States ( vorstenlanden ) of Central Java, the kings and princes of Surakarta (the Pakubuwono and Mangkunegoro) and Yogyakarta (Sultan Hamengkubuwono and the
In an age when engraving and photography were making artistic images available to a much wider public, artists were able to influence public attitudes more powerfully than ever before. This book examines works of art on military themes in relation to ruling-class ideologies about the army, war and the empire. The first part of the book is devoted to a chronological survey of battle painting, integrated with a study of contemporary military and political history. The chapters link the debate over the status and importance of battle painting to contemporary debates over the role of the army and its function at home and abroad. The second part discusses the intersection of ideologies about the army and military art, but is concerned with an examination of genre representations of soldiers. Another important theme which runs through the book is the relation of English to French military art. During the first eighty years of the period under review France was the cynosure of military artists, the school against which British critics measured their own, and the place from which innovations were imported and modified. In every generation after Waterloo battle painters visited France and often trained there. The book shows that military art, or the 'absence' of it, was one of the ways in which nationalist commentators articulated Britain's moral superiority. The final theme which underlies much of the book is the shifts which took place in the perception of heroes and hero-worship.
In a survey of the British
government’s migration policy conducted in 1930, the Overseas
Settlement Department concluded that assisted migration since World War
I had been ‘fostered largely for social and political reasons, and
that the economic aspects of it [had] been more or less
This was undeniably true. Although important economic arguments were
variety of schemes undertaken. 2
Land settlement had always been an integral part of the
Australian experience and a necessary feature of state politics.
According to one observer, soldier settlement ‘was a policy which
carried with it no implications that were either revolutionary or
experimental. It simply meant that whereas the primary producers of the
pre-war period were civilians, a large number of the