Inequality is a coin that cannot be understood by studying only one of its faces. In the preface to this volume, besides critically interrogating poverty, Williams asks what qualitative questions should we be asking about the rich?
real issue concerns the relationship between the author and his two dupes’ and that the ‘true “pseudocouple” is not Mercier and Camier but the author linked with his two creations.’ 1 I propose to expand on this point by P. J. Murphy, in order to observe how the issues of authority, visibility, and invisibility can be helpful to assess the role played by Dante in Mercier and Camier in relation to both Mercier et Camier and other texts by Beckett. Written in French in 1946, Mercier et Camier was published only in 1970, while the self
’ (see Chapter 5 ). Harry and Meghan's emerging roles as ‘post-royals’ reveals ongoing tensions in the Firm. I argued in Chapter 2 that the balance between visibility and invisibility is carefully choreographed, across a now more diffuse media system, to reproduce monarchy's power. Harry and Meghan's resignation temporarily disturbed this balance. Indeed, I argue that it temporarily made visible those institutional infrastructures and relations that are usually kept invisible. Such visibility makes their resignation useful for us to draw together the various threads
(2008), The Last Exorcism (2010), Troll Hunter (2010), Apollo 18 (2011) and The Bay (2012), among many others. Two things have contributed to the current success of this device: one is its innovation on the play between visibility and invisibility, and the second is its use of realistic sound (often from an unseen source, which heightens the first effect). Even
This chapter considers the dyads of materiality and immateriality and visibility and invisibility by investigating the relationship between social memory, international treaties, and the remaking of geopolitical borders. Focus is on the Mediterranean as a border zone currently undergoing a process of change. In particular, the chapter discusses the Italy–Libya Friendship treaty of 2008 and the ways in which it works as a non-site of memory and a bordering technology. By analysing the text of the Treaty and the symbolic politics that framed its signing, it argues that while the Treaty was publicly represented as a tool of reparation for crimes committed during the colonial period – as a site of memory – its actual effects were rather different.
This chapter develops and applies the notion of regimes of visibility to colonial visual records. It opens on one of the most graphic images of the book: a group portrait of a militia after the execution of several individuals during the Matabele War (late 1890s). The photographic event and the subsequent circulation of the photograph and of other related images is carefully reconstructed with the help of local experts. A detailed analysis shows how selective some of the settlers, soldiers, and local studios were in their uses of potentially sensitive photographs. These erasures have contributed to an underestimation of the sheer quantity of perpetrator photography in colonial contexts before 1914. The darkest corners of French and British imperial expansion did not go unrecorded. The chapter demonstrates how different networks, contexts, and uses determined the visibility and invisibility of extreme colonial violence. It also shows how disruptive photographs sometimes slipped into the public sphere and triggered outrage, for instance when anonymous soldiers sent evidence of atrocities to the newspapers of the imperial metropolises. The chapter concludes by discussing the intrinsic volatility of these regimes of visibility and how they reflect the instability of French and British imperial projects.
This chapter offers a detailed analysis of a photograph of the Spion Kop trench. This image became iconic in a matter of weeks as the Anglo–Boer War was raging in South Africa. Its circulations and re-uses are explored in detail to demonstrate how and why it became such an icon of war in early twentieth-century Britain. The chapter focuses on the visibility and invisibility of the violence exerted on Europeans and underlines how photography took on a funereal dimension in colonial campaigns. Private albums are full of visual records of fallen friends and their inaccessible gravesites. Photographs became a surrogate for more traditional rites of commemoration and mourning. The study of this elegiac subgenre describes the deep transformation that characterised the relation to the violent death of soldiers, both in France and Britain, well before the First World War. Photographs of wounded veterans and broken bodies are also considered. The chapter addresses the photographic records of atrocities committed against colonisers and Westerners in colonial conflicts. It shows that photographs of dying soldiers and dead civilians were not unthinkable in the early twentieth century, thus nuancing an enduring myth about the invisibility of such violence before the 1930s.
the frame of appearance. At the same 268 Conclusion time, they demonstrate that the sign woman cannot be completely dismantled or imagined anew. Its histories mediating relations among masculine subjects are too long and entrenched, for one thing, and its internalisation has been too pervasive and thorough. It is through the spaces between visibility and invisibility that these artists address viewers and ask them to become readers of the visual histories they have inherited and thereby contribute a feminist imaginary in which other definitions of woman can come
photographs allowed both soldiers and civilians to familiarise themselves with a changing and challenging place. Photography was a practice that allowed combatants and civilians to make sense of their war experiences, to engage with others and the world. It is in this context that photography’s power to make visible and invisible matters. Visibility and invisibility were not intrinsic characteristics of the photographed subjects, but the results of certain photographic operations. The comparison between the photographs of the war missing and the non-existent photographs
looking, of visibility and invisibility, seem virtually non-existent in Joe Slovo’s own autobiographical memoir. His Unfinished Autobiography 13 is a collection of largely anecdotal and often humorous fragments which he had started writing before his untimely death of cancer in 1995 (less than a year after he had taken up office as the minister of Housing in the new ANC Government). It reveals Slovo’s background as a working-class Lithuanian Jewish refugee who came to Johannesburg at the age of 10, worked as a clerk and lived with