歴史学 — 全 下位分類

This book examines the forgotten proposal to make Constantinople the headquarters of the League of Nations after the First World War, in order to rethink the origins of modern international order. By tracing the debate between liberal internationalism and Western imperialism, it shows how global governance was shaped by power, geography, and ideology rather than universal principles. The author argues that the choice of Geneva as the League's seat was not a neutral administrative decision, but a deeply political one. Focusing on the years from 1919 to 1920, the book reconstructs a critical moment when two competing visions of world order collided: the first, an inclusive, post-imperial internationalism advanced by figures such as David Davies, versus an imperial internationalism championed by policy-makers and the likes of Jan Smuts and Robert Henry Brand. At stake was whether the League would emerge as a genuinely global institution or as a reconfigured instrument of Western dominance. Drawing on pamphlets, Peace Conference minutes, parliamentary debates, and archival sources, the book offers a new perspective on postwar diplomacy, the League of Nations, and the spatial politics of international institutions.

A giant of political journalism, Lou Cannon rose to prominence as state bureau chief for the San Jose Mercury News in the late 1960s, covering then-governor of California Ronald Reagan. In 1972, he became a political reporter for The Washington Post, one of the top newspapers in the United States, where he would remain until 2008. Best known for his coverage of Reagan's presidency, he also notably covered the brutal beating of Rodney King at the hands of the Los Angeles police department in 1991.

From Ronald Reagan to Rodney King recounts Cannon's lengthy career as a newspaperman during a period when newspapers of record were the most important source of current events. He had extraordinary access to top newsmakers, and his work had a rippling impact-influencing other journalists, sparking coverage on television, and appearing in newspapers around the globe. Some of the stories he covered-such as the end of the Cold War-changed the world. His journalistic influence in the latter half of the twentieth century was deep and wide-ranging.

Cannon is the primary source of his stories, but he was a careful reporter then and a careful historian now. He had the benefit of a written record of every story he covered, and he clearly refreshed his memory when necessary to check the facts. Rather than revealing his own opinions or feelings, Cannon narrates straightforward accounts of what he witnessed on the job. From Ronald Reagan to Rodney King will appeal to historians of twentieth-century journalism, the Cold War, Ronald Reagan, race relations, and policing.

If the heart of oral history is the interview and the heart of the interview is listening, then how can we learn to listen, and how can we teach interviewers to listen with empathy? This book reframes listening from a natural talent to a teachable skill and presents a series of listening exercises the author created to teach students and other interviewers how to become better listeners. The exercises are suitable for people at various levels and can be used by anyone interested in improving their listening skills or teaching those skills in courses or workshops. The book also includes passages from students' listening journals where they write about what they learned about listening from that exercise. In addition to offering insights into listening the journals serve as examples of how people can write their own listening journals. Other books describe ways to improve listening, but this one offers people a series of specific exercises designed to improve their listening skills.

Presenting a study of the Galli priests of the Roman cult of Cybele, the Great Mother goddess, this book examines the archaeological evidence to give a clearer picture of the priesthood. The Galli were priests renowned in Antiquity for their crossdressing, mendicant, ecstatic behaviour and their infamous act of self-castration. However, most of our understanding of the Galli comes from an incomplete, fragmentary and scathing literary record. This book aims to rectify this imbalance by re-assessing them in light of the material evidence, and by comparing them with subsequent cultural groups.

Through the use of three comparative case studies from Polynesia, India and North America, this book analyses the ancient social group with these three modern 'gender variant' counterparts to highlight the 'othered' identity and experience of the Galli. The study reveals shared similarities regarding gendered 'other' attire, religious associations and sexual relationships. This approach offers a remarkable insight into the Galli cult, and poses questions on how similar human social groups operate, irrespective of time and place.

In A Fight for Visibility, Donna E. Reeves explores how Black Memphians fought to maintain dignity and self-respect during the post-Reconstruction period and Jim Crow era by challenging the negative images of African Americans produced by Confederate loyalists as part of the Lost Cause narrative.

After the Civil War, Black Memphians actively struggled against the white Memphis establishment, which tried to shackle the movement and development of various Black communities. The more white Memphians tried to contain African Americans, the more African American residents stood against those efforts. Reeves surveys the history of Memphis in the postwar era, uncovering the motivations behind the Confederate monument-building frenzy at the end of the nineteenth century. She argues that the ceremonies and narratives of this period served to freeze Black people in deferential roles in the minds of white southerners. In response, through subtle and not-so-subtle avenues, Black residents challenged the notion that they were second-class citizens and sought to show that they were just as worthy of citizenship as their white counterparts.

Reeves focuses on two themes emblematic of the city's racial struggles. The first was the decades-long presence of a statue depicting the infamous Confederate general, slave trader, and first grand wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, Nathan Bedford Forrest, in the downtown area. The second was the hosting, beginning in the 1930s, of the Cotton Carnival, an event at which white residents and tourists, greeted by Black women dressed as plantation "mammies," celebrated the role of cotton in Memphis's history. When Black Memphians challenged depictions of their race at this annual event, they were not just rejecting demeaning stereotypes; they were also rejecting the white southern mindset that saw Black people in the role of servant and entertainer.

Reeves examines the myriad ways that Black Memphians protested both the continued presence of the Forrest statue and the Cotton Carnival. Black residents, she suggests, wanted more than simply to demand the removal of the statue (which eventually occurred) and to correct the powerful, mythologized memory of slavery. They saw these sites of protest as an opportunity to take control of the image of Black citizens and to challenge the widespread belief that only white people could lead the city in politics and business.

The story of an outsider representing the Hasidic Satmar Jewish community of Kiryas Joel in the Orange County, New York Legislature.

Outside Looking In chronicles the saga of Michael Frank Amo, an Orange County, New York, legislator who has represented the Hasidic Jewish community of Kiryas Joel for three decades. As a political minority member of the legislature, Amo fought to get their voice and points of view heard amid during his unique role as a non-Jew representing a Satmar Hasidic community. It shows how he learned about them, how to best represent them, and why they behave so differently than others, ultimately illuminating the humanity and core values of the Satmar in relationship to the world around them, how they manage conflicts among themselves, and the non-Hasidic or secular world of Orange County. With input from many in and outside the community, Amo proposes approaches to the conflicts caused by theological differences, ignorance, bias, antisemitism, and anti-Hasidim that have fermented for nearly a half-century. For anyone interested in this unique community or the ongoing problems caused by antisemitism in our country, this book is a must read.

The general-in-chief did not command the million-man Union army that fought in the Civil War, as most historians have assumed; rather, he was a member of a management team that included the president and the secretary of war. The president, as commander-in-chief, created the position by appointing an officer to it, and he could dismiss that officer at any time and choose not to appoint another. The general-in-chief had to cooperate closely with the president and the secretary of war to ensure the team functioned effectively.

In Managing the Union Army, renowned Civil War historian Earl J. Hess upends our understanding of the general-in-chief, his role in the Union military system, and his influence on the conflict's outcome. Hess reinterprets the accomplishments and failures of the four men who held the position, evaluating Winfield Scott, George B. McClellan, Henry W. Halleck, and Ulysses S. Grant in ways that might surprise many students of Civil War military history.
The Union general-in-chief could take on four major responsibilities. The first was to serve as a military advisor to the president and the secretary of war. The second was to develop policies to govern the huge Union army. The third was to recommend officers to command corps, field armies, and military departments. The fourth was to actually command a portion of the army in field operations, a role that Grant alone fulfilled. Hess shows how the performance of the four men varied greatly across the three other tasks. He also details Grant's unique achievement as a field commander-ending the war, which none of the other Union generals-in-chief were able to do.

Hess illuminates how personality traits helped or hindered the generals-in-chief during the war. McClellan's deeply flawed personality contributed to his failure in fulfilling the duties of the position. Grant's strongly positive personality and will-do attitude, by contrast, helped him to succeed more fully in the role than any of his predecessors.

Hess also offers a much more positive evaluation of Halleck than is typical of the scholarly literature on Civil War commanders. Halleck was not only a successful general-in-chief but also fundamentally supported Grant during the last year of the conflict by serving as chief of staff of the U.S. Army, a fourth member of the management team. From an elderly though distinguished officer like Scott, to Grant, the most effective general of the Civil War, the office of general-in-chief evolved into the crucial military position in the Federal war effort. Hess's study, through a close examination of administrative history, offers a dramatically new way of understanding how the Union army worked in the Civil War.

Examining how people understood the role of the dead and the divine in the curse tablets they created, this book provides unparalleled insights into the lives of those often underrepresented in ancient sources. Looking at these small, handwritten inscriptions in Celtic, Coptic, Greek, Latin and Punic allows us to see into the lives and imaginations of the broader population, including women and enslaved peoples, from the sixth century BCE to the seventh century CE.

The book primarily focuses on the roles of the restless dead and divine in curse tablets, from actively carrying out a curse (physically or metaphysically), to their use analogically, and their function as intermediaries and witnesses. By placing the focus always on the individual, Charlotte Spence enhances our understanding both of the lives of ancient individuals and their conceptions of the dead.

James O. Heath's Deep South Democrats is the story of three men who redefined the southern political landscape through unique voting records in health, housing, labor, and education. Olin Johnston of South Carolina and John Sparkman and Lister Hill of Alabama contributed to the massive impact of Franklin Roosevelt's New Deal in the southern states, though the reforms didn't affect just their constituents: the New Deal's characteristics of federal intervention and economic empowerment influenced their own political outlook for decades. While the senators' consistent defense of segregation stood in stark contrast to the purported "reluctance" of their racism in their election campaigns, the benefits of their economic liberalism benefited Black communities in their states. This, in turn, ensured a remarkable measure of support among Black southerners who were registered to vote and gave the three of them an unbeatable edge over opponents who were economically and racially conservative.

In focusing on the paradoxical politics of three Deep South Democrats, Heath avoids the pitfalls of overcategorization while entertaining two possibilities. The first is that Johnston, Sparkman, and Hill privately supported the advancement of Black rights but were restrained from doing so publicly by the political realities in their states, which forced them to maintain a strict adherence to racial segregation, albeit while pursuing reforms in social policy that benefited Black and white residents alike. The second is that the three of them held racist beliefs but avoided the racist hyperbole of their contemporaries because they possessed a sense of duty to their communities. Heath's analysis considers the influence of region, rather than state, alongside tradition and family history, to explain how the reluctant racism of these three men proved unusually influential in the age of civil rights.

In Fearless Philanthropy, Roberta Brandes Gratz tells the story of Edith Rosenwald Stern-rich, progressive, and Jewish-who arrived in New Orleans in 1921, the wife of successful cotton broker Edgar Bloom Stern. Edith encountered a city rife with racism and antisemitism, and run by a set of entrenched social rules that she was not about to abide by. Her father, Julius Rosenwald of Sears & Roebuck, one of the richest men in America, had begun transforming lives of Black Americans in the South through his efforts to promote Black education. Edith proceeded to follow in his footsteps, and with her willing partner Edgar helped revolutionize aspects of New Orleans still visible today.

In telling the story of the Sterns, Gratz spotlights the outsider category of Jews in New Orleans, the specific impacts of the Mardi Gras social structure upon them, and the Sterns' influence on education in the South. Edith founded two pioneering educational institutions, while Edgar led a biracial group in the founding of Dillard University and Flint-Goodridge Hospital to serve the Black community. In 1947, Edgar purchased New Orleans radio station WDSU for son Edgar Jr. to run, and a year later Edgar Jr. opened WDSU-TV, the sixth major television station in the South. WDSU editorials favoring school integration, together with Edith's financial support of the desegregation campaign of the local women's group Save Our Schools, had a great impact during a volatile time. Edgar's rebuilding of the St. Louis Hotel (now the Royal Orleans), begun in the late 1940s and continued throughout the next decade, helped initiate the revitalization of the deteriorating French Quarter. As if that weren't enough, the Sterns led the development of Pontchartrain Park, the first Black middle-class housing development in the United States backed by the FHA.

Gratz's passionate account of Edith and Edgar Stern, showing how they grappled with issues of Black rights, philanthropy, civil rights, education, historic preservation, and the arts in a political and social climate antagonistic to change, provides a fascinating chronicle of New Orleans during a period of pivotal development.

Combining ancient sports research and sensory studies, this volume unveils new insights into the societal and cultural history of Greek athletics. From the touch and smell of ancient substances and the taste of the athletic diet, to the sight of muscular bodies and the endurance of extreme temperatures, this book offers a unique glimpse into the vivid sensory world of Greek athletics. By examining these sensory experiences, readers will gain profound insights into the connections forged between athletes and their natural surroundings, the influence of imperial power and the significance of athletics within Greek poleis and ancient literature.

This collection of thought-provoking chapters explores topics such as the importance of the relationship between Roman emperors and Greek athletics; the use and experience of strigils, oil and dust in athletic contexts; and the transformative power of the sensory experience as featured in classical literature. Emperor Julian (331-363 CE) is one such example of this, whose understanding of the senses is grounded in an Iamblichean theory of moral psychology and whose writing touches on the multi-sensory experience of these spectacles. This book analyses this perspective, asking to what extent these sense-perceptual experiences made athletic contests a beneficial civic institution.

This book is the sequel to Kathleen M. Byrd's 2024 study, Natchitoches, Louisiana, 1803-1840: A Creole Community on the American Frontier. Picking up the story in the 1840s and taking it through the Civil War, Byrd shows in this volume the economic activities of not only the planters and their enslaved workers but also the upland farmers, tradesmen, merchants, and others during the 1840s and 1850s. She then discusses how the disastrous Civil War created challenges for all those living on the home front.

Using the Phanor Prudhomme plantation, located down Cane River from the town of Natchitoches, as a case study, Byrd provides a portrait of life on a Louisiana cotton farm in the years just before the Civil War. Although cotton was the primary cash crop in Natchitoches during this period, most residents were not part of a planter household. Many farmers adopted other strategies, such as mixed-crop farming and herding, to sustain their families. Some small farmers were slaveholders; most were not. They were nonetheless complicit in maintaining slavery, either through renting enslaved people or by striving to become slaveholders themselves.
Byrd shows that the town of Natchitoches served as the economic and social center of the area, a place where larger merchants had stores, wealthy planters had townhouses, and the Catholic diocese had its cathedral and seminary. It was the parish seat with a courthouse, lawyers, and associated government officials, as well as doctors, druggists, and hotel keepers. The town had a newspaper and a racetrack, where the Natchitoches Jockey Club held its annual races.

White residents of Natchitoches were well informed about national developments. After the 1860 presidential election, most men in town voted against immediate secession, but they changed their stance when the Civil War began. Their enthusiasm for the Confederacy ebbed, however, as the war dragged on. The war reached Natchitoches Parish when the Union army invaded the Red River Valley and occupied Natchitoches. Foraging activities by both Union and Confederate soldiers left the town and countryside devastated, while enslaved laborers used the chaos of war to seek freedom.

This volume examines popular assemblies in Greek cities under Roman rule up to the late third century CE. Greek poleis were among the most politically inclusive societies in premodern history, primarily because via their public assemblies, most or all adult male citizens beyond the elite could participate in politics. In those cities the Greeks called democracies, the assembly even functioned as the chief decision-making institution. In this volume, an international team of experts explores the roles of assemblies amid increasing oligarchic pressures and within the framework of an autocratic empire. The chapters explore topics such as civic honours, the collaboration between council and assembly, the differing perspectives preserved in our sources, political discourse, and the impact of Roman conquest, governors and law.

A companion volume (Popular Political Participation from Archaic Greece to the Late Hellenistic Period: The Assemblies of the Greek Cities beyond Athens Volume I) traces the institution's development from Homeric Greece to the end of the Hellenistic age. Throughout both volumes, the emphasis is on the notion that assemblies were an essential contributing factor to the surprising institutional success and longevity of the Greek city. Together they suggest that the assembly ought to be a key component of any explanation for the remarkable resilience of the polis as a system of government through more than a millennium of ancient history.

Shirley Rose Gray's memoir and diary chronicle her World War II experiences with a USO show in the Pacific Theater during the summer of 1945. Part of comedic film actor Eddie Bracken's troupe of entertainers, the twenty-two-year-old native of Los Angeles performed on bitterly contested islands such as Guam, Peleliu, Tinian, and Saipan, as well as aboard the aircraft carrier USS Ticonderoga and other naval vessels. Her narrative recounts traveling on crowded planes, performing in wet clothes amid stifling heat, and dealing with homesickness and physical exhaustion. In addition to encountering utterly foreign people and landscapes, Gray witnessed the human and material destruction of ferocious battles. She and the other members of Bracken's show developed a sense of camaraderie, different but somewhat akin to that among veterans.

Gray's time on the islands included memorable moments apart from her performances. She spent many hours in hospitals talking to wounded men and often served food to grateful enlisted personnel. On Peleliu, she squeezed into a cave, once used by Japanese forces as a hospital, that contained decomposing corpses of slain soldiers. She spent an hour flying in a Navy dive bomber and, encouraged by Marines, briefly steered an amphibious tank. She met many well-known figures, including Admiral Richard E. Byrd, the famous polar explorer, who gave her the stars off his uniform's collar. A bomber crew painted her picture on the nose of their aircraft and named it the "Squirrelly Shirley."

Gray's highly personal memoir, episodic in nature, is descriptive rather than contemplative. No passages explain why the U.S. military endeavor merited praise; instead, Gray takes for granted that the uniformed men who attended Bracken's show fought for a just cause. Her straightforward prose leaves no doubt that she believed the troupe contributed to the war effort, and that she derived satisfaction from her efforts on stage and in other interactions with U.S. servicemen as the war entered its final phase.