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Chapter 1 Freedom of speech in England and the anglophone world, 1500–1850 Jason Peacey, Robert G. Ingram and Alex W. Barber D aniel Defoe was of two minds about freedom of speech. On the one hand, he reckoned that many had misused their liberty to express their views in print. It would, he lamented, ‘be endless to examine the Liberty taken by the Men of Wit in the World, the loose they give themselves in Print, at Religion, at Government, at Scandal; the prodigious looseness of the Pen, in broaching new Opinions in Religion, as well as Politics, are real
This book examines the shifting relationship between humanitarianism and the expansion, consolidation and postcolonial transformation of the Anglophone world across three centuries.
Rather than exploring this relationship within a generalised narrative, an introductory essay sets out its key features throughout the imperial and post-imperial period, before carefully selected chapters explore trade-offs between humane concern and the altered context of colonial and postcolonial realpolitik with case studies distributed between the late eighteenth and late twentieth centuries.
Together, the collection enables us to tease out the relationship between British humanitarian concerns and the uneven imagination and application of emancipation; the shifting tensions between ameliorative humanitarianism and assertive human rights; the specificities of humanitarian governance; the shifting locales of humanitarian donors, practitioners and recipients as decolonisation reconfigured imperial relationships; and the overarching question of who Anglo humanitarianism is for.
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.
interlocutors ‘heard’ my accent – which to first language British English speakers sounds like that of a ‘native’ North American English speaker. But in the ears of these ESOL learners, with weaker English language skills, I may have sounded British English. What I do know is that these encounters were normalised by our respective positions in the power differentials constitutive of the ‘Anglophone’ worlds we inhabit, where my status as a presumed white ‘English native speaker’ meant that I stood in for the English-speaking majority – if not as the state
, town squares, parades, various forms of mass meeting, elections, demonstrations, strikes, rebellions and riots. Time and distance mattered little here. We have seen that this panoply of events might have taken place among radicals and reformers anywhere across the Anglophone world from Glasgow to Toronto to Dunedin to Brisbane. In his memoir, published in 1868, Thomas Wright, the well-known ‘journeyman
anticipated a series of concerts to be held over three nights in April at the Albert Hall, located in London’s leafy suburb of Kensington, at Conway Hall in Red Lion Square and in Queen’s Hall in the West End. Although the events occurred more than two decades beyond the years covered in our study of music and music-making in radicalism and reform throughout the Anglophone world during the long nineteenth
diversified by the discordance of the bands.’ 5 Nonetheless, music-making played several important roles in this mode of collective action that are worthy of more detailed attention. For the larger parades that coursed the streets of the massive conurbations of the nineteenth century Anglophone world, the importance of these roles increased manifold. First, bands served a Pied Piper-like function by, to borrow
Conclusion This study has focused upon two groups of migrants, the Irish and the Scots, concentrating upon the important period 1921 to 1965, an era illuminated in rich detail by the types of sources utilised, particularly interviews. The book has tried also to engage with migration streams across the diversity of the Anglophone world, drawing upon the experiences of both Scottish and Irish migrants who went to the United States, Canada, New Zealand, and Australia. The study has revealed that a close reading of personal testimonies can expose assorted
-making remained a common feature of campaigns throughout the Anglophone world. From the 1850s, for example, the New Zealand parliament had successively enacted a raft of laws designed to regulate the conduct of elections. Much as in Britain some critics complained that they were turning elections into ‘something between a Quaker’s meeting and a Venetian Council’ and when the 1881
movements across the radical Anglophone world and considering their functions and meanings in different local settings. The origin of the Marseillaise is well known. One evening in April 1792 after a lively dinner involving much champagne, French army captain and amateur poet and musician Claude-Joseph Rouget de Lisle accepted a challenge from his host, the Mayor of Strasbourg, to