Historians and political scientists have deemed the twentieth century 'the Conservative Century', owing to the electoral and cultural dominance of the Conservative Party in Britain. This book traces the relationship among women, gender and the Conservative Party from the 1880s to the present, and thereby seeks to fill that gap. A gender inclusive approach allows for a more nuanced understanding of political machinations, power and the unprecedented popularity of both conservatism and unionism in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The suffragette Christabel Pankhurst, was regarded as a charismatic, radical figure, who was the co-leader of the Women's Social and Political Union (WSPU), a notorious suffrage organization campaigning for the parliamentary vote for women in Edwardian Britain. In 1928 Lady Iveagh, Vice-Chairman of the National Union of Conservative Associations (NUCA), claimed that one million women were members of the Conservative Party. The book focuses on how the Primrose League re-made itself for its female members between 1914 and 1932. It shows that the Conservative Party leadership and male candidates were keen to present themselves as the champions of home interests, playing up their family-man credentials against their rowdy electoral culture of Labour. The book also examines inquires how the deliberate choice of middlebrow rhetoric as well as the language of citizenship enabled Conservative women to construct a cross-class language of democracy. It explores British conservatism, highlighting the history of the Tory Party as part of the study of women and their sectional interest in 'the politics of gender'.
Clarisse Berthezène and Julie V. Gottlieb
Historians and political scientists have deemed the twentieth century ‘the
Conservative Century’, owing to the electoral and culturaldominance of the
Conservative Party in Britain. While the turn of the twenty-first century portended
something rather different, as a Cool Britannia-Blairite-New Labourite political
class inaugurated the new millennium, and the Labour Party governed from 1997 to
2010, since then, and even more so in the fallout of Britain’s recent EU Referendum
(June 2016), it looks
in the business of the
distinctively English community of the county and the activities of the
local magistracy. The quest for the medieval origins of the other image,
of the officer and gentleman, leads back into the chivalric world where
the knight was recognised as the type of Christian warrior aristocrat, a
context that by contrast is not national but international. In a period
of French cultural
History and heritage in late nineteenth-century Canada and Australia
experience. The Canadian experience is also particularly valuable for
the insights it provides on the politics of culturaldominance and
possession, with the late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century
Canadian pursuit of heritage preservation centred on an Anglo-French
more than Anglo-Indigenous dichotomy. In Australia, by comparison, the
problem was how to create a usable past while avoiding the pitfalls
generation (according to Matt
Johnson of The The) to the beaten generation. Or so we were told.
This book has offered an alternative perspective on popular
music and youth culture in the 1980s and beyond. Although it has
presented the material in a variety of different ways, reflecting a suitable postmodern mixture of pop seriousness and academic trivia, it
The absolute non-end
is in fact based on interviews with disc jockeys, record label owners,
musicians, producers, writers and fans. It has described and analysed
the shift in culturaldominance from New Pop
Madchester may have been born at the Haçienda in the summer of 1988, but the city had been in creative ferment for almost a decade prior to the rise of Acid House. The End-of-the-Century Party is the definitive account of a generational shift in popular music and youth culture, what it meant and what it led to. First published right after the Second Summer of Love, it tells the story of the transition from New Pop to the Political Pop of the mid-1980s and its deviant offspring, Post-Political Pop. Resisting contemporary proclamations about the end of youth culture and the rise of a new, right-leaning conformism, the book draws on interviews with DJs, record company bosses, musicians, producers and fans to outline a clear transition in pop thinking, a move from an obsession with style, packaging and synthetic sounds to content, socially conscious lyrics and a new authenticity. This edition is framed by a prologue by Tara Brabazon, which asks how we can reclaim the spirit, energy and authenticity of Madchester for a post-youth, post-pop generation. It is illustrated with iconic photographs by Kevin Cummins.
At a time when monolingualist claims for the importance of ‘speaking English’ to the national order continue louder than ever, even as language diversity is increasingly part of contemporary British life, literature becomes a space to consider the terms of linguistic belonging. Bad English examines writers including Tom Leonard, James Kelman, Suhayl Saadi, Raman Mundair, Daljit Nagra, Xiaolu Guo, Leila Aboulela, Brian Chikwava, and Caroline Bergvall, who engage multilingually, experimentally, playfully, and ambivalently with English’s power. Considering their invented vernaculars and mixed idioms, their dramatised scenes of languaging – languages learned or lost, acts of translation, scenes of speaking, the exposure and racialised visibility of accent – it argues for a growing field of contemporary literature in Britain pre-eminently concerned with language’s power dynamics, its aesthetic potentialities, and its prosthetic strangeness. Drawing on insights from applied linguistics and translation studies as well as literary scholarship, Bad English explores contemporary arguments about language in Britain – in debates about citizenship or education, in the media or on Twitter, in Home Office policy and asylum legislation – as well as the ways they are taken up in literature. It uncovers both an antagonistic and a productive interplay between language politics and literary form, tracing writers’ articulation of linguistic alienation and ambivalence, as well as the productivity and making-new of radical language practices. Doing so, it refutes the view that language difference and language politics are somehow irrelevant to contemporary Britain and instead argues for their constitutive centrality to the work of novelists and poets whose inside/outside relationship to English in its institutionalised forms is the generative force of their writing.
Anthropology after Gluckman places the intimate circle around Max Gluckman, his Manchester School, in the vanguard of modern social anthropology. The book discloses the School’s intense, argument-rich collaborations, developing beyond an original focus in south and central Africa. Where outsiders have seen dominating leadership by Gluckman, a common stock of problems, and much about conflict, Richard Werbner highlights how insiders were drawn to explore many new frontiers in fieldwork and in-depth, reflexive ethnography, because they themselves, in class and gender, ethnicity and national origins, were remarkably inclusive. Characteristically different anthropologists, their careers met the challenges of being a public intellectual, an international celebrity, an institutional good citizen, a social and political activist, an advocate of legal justice. Their living legacies are shown, for the first time, through interlinked social biography and intellectual history to reach broadly across politics, law, ritual, semiotics, development studies, comparative urbanism, social network analysis and mathematical sociology. Innovation – in research methods and techniques, in documenting people’s changing praxis and social relations, in comparative analysis and a destabilizing strategy of re-analysis within ethnography – became the School’s hallmark. Much of this exploration confronted troubling times in Africa, colonial and postcolonial, which put the anthropologists and their anthropological knowledge at risk. The resurgence of debate about decolonization makes the accounts of fierce, End of Empire argument and recent postcolonial anthropology all the more topical. The lessons, even in activism, for social scientists, teachers as well as graduate and undergraduate students are compelling for our own troubled times.
cities, but it does not apply only to London. It explains why punk was
very unlikely to emerge first in one of the UK’s smaller towns or cities
but it only narrows the likely point of origin to one the bigger cities.
A further factor in London’s favour is its culturaldominance and
consequent concentration of opportunities for musical success. I suggested in Chapter 3 that the specific opportunity structures identified
in Richard Peterson’s (1990) account of the rise of rock ‘n’ roll do not
appear to have played a role in relation to punk. However, I noted some
historians and philosophers are invited to speak
about the problems of ‘art in the context of the
media’. But where is the problem? It lies in the linguistic
conventions of those who ask the questions. Art has been a medium
since its beginnings. The polarisation of ‘art and
media’ wormed its way into thought when the mechanical
apparatus began its culturaldominance. Since then, the