or aesthetic anti-war feeling –
reactions that, as we will see, were as valid and real as any of a religious or
political nature. I felt it was time to set the record straight.
Very occasionally, this humanistic anti-war feeling has been noted in ‘official’ studies. In his Pacifism in Britain 1914–1945: The Defining of a Faith, the
historian Martin Ceadel singles out what he terms ‘humanitarian pacifism’ as a
valid form of anti-war feeling, stating that it is ‘no less a dogma’ than religious
or political pacifism. However, in Ceadel’s book, humanitarian pacifism is
to the destructive ‘fiery conviction’ of
the war years. In addition, Russell’s concerns were echoed, often independently,
by other individuals, whether celebrated or obscure.
The ground was being laid for the organised voice of historian Martin Ceadel’s
‘humanitarian pacifism’ of the 1920s and 1930s.16 It is clear that aesthetic and
A war of individuals
humanistic anti-war feeling was not simply an inter-war ‘innovation’, but existed much earlier during the actual conflict and emanated from differing sources
on an individual basis in its expression.
William Rawley, Bacon’s secretary
and editor, which suggests that Bacon’s original intention was ‘to
have composed a frame of Laws, or the best state or mould of a
commonwealth’,6 and that, as Rawley notes at the end, ‘The rest
was not perfected’ (488). However, some critics consider the New
Atlantis’s apparent fragmentariness to be part of its overall
design:7 its identity lies between part and whole. Significantly in
this regard, Bacon’s fable is appended to the much larger work of
natural history, Sylva Sylvarum, which comprises a compendium
of hundreds of
desire for Valentine. But desire he now
almost knows it is. His conscious control of himself is being challenged
by his presence at the front and the fragmenting effects of that existence. It is also being challenged by a defensive and grudging
acknowledgement of the psychological developments of the time (it is
undoubtedly significant here that his wife, Sylvia, pinned her ‘faith’ to
Freud (p. 37)); he is indirectly rethinking his history, and his psychological history at that.16 Learning, visibly, he is being pushed to give
tentative, linguistic life to concepts that
that of men – even when sharing an enlightened, liberal background with them,
as within Bloomsbury and its circle. But women emerged from a range of backgrounds and contexts – including that of political agitation linked to specific
political aims – whose motivation towards protest, when confronted by the
specifics of war, became more individualistic in character and less a part of an
organised ‘movement’ or liable to be led by the propaganda of the war-state.
Many women in the period leading up to the outbreak of the conflict could
lay claim to a history of
Unlike Duncan Grant and David Garnett, the writer Clive Bell was less hampered by tribunals and the machinery of authority and hence able to have more
freedom to undertake his own work during the war due to a medical complaint
(an ‘unhealed rupture’) that rendered him unfit for military service. However,
until the necessities of the Military Service Act brought his medical history to
the fore, he existed ‘in a world of agitation and uneasiness which is not at all
what I like’, as he described to his wife Vanessa. He was unsure about ‘venturing out’ and hesitant
Lesbian citizenship and filmmaking in Sweden in the 1970s
(1984) [‘Investigation about the situation of homosexuals in society’], would
put homosexuality on the official political agenda as a legitimate social
and civil rights issue in Sweden, paving the way for cohabitation, anti-
discrimination, parental and marital rights during the following decades.
The two rare lesbian films examined in this chapter, largely forgotten and
overlooked in Swedish film history as well as in feminist and queer historiography, anticipate these crucial shifts in the official medical, legal and
social understanding of homosexuality in Sweden
Translatina world-making in The Salt Mines and Wildness
. (1996). Reel to Real: Race, Sex, and Class at the Movies. New York: Routledge.
Jelača, D. (2016). ‘Gendered visions in As If I Am Not There and in The Land of Blood
and Honey: Female precarity, the humanitarian gaze and the politics of situated
knowledge’, Jump Cut, 57.
Juhasz, A. (1999). ‘They said we were trying to show reality –all I want to show is
my video: The politics of the realist feminist documentary’, in J. Gaines and M.
Renov (eds), Collecting Visible Evidence. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota
Press, pp. 190–215.
Keegan, C. M. (2016). ‘History
this vulnerability is shared, and
by whom? Why is #MeToo having an impact only now, with wealthy and
often white cis-women in Hollywood at the forefront of the movement,
when the issue of sexual abuse and assault has been a key struggle in feminist, women of colour, and trans activisms for such a long time? What part
does social media play in the successes and failures of activist efforts such
as #MeToo, and how does it relate to broader media histories of addressing
and representing painful issues and marginalised people?
One of the keys to the success of the
Beyond the witch trials
Public infidelity and private belief?
Public infidelity and private belief ?
The discourse of spirits in Enlightenment Bristol
Recent work on the history of witchcraft and magic has identified three
themes or approaches as of particular importance in our understanding of a
subject which, although it has been centre stage since the publication of
Religion and the Decline of Magic in 1971, has continued to trouble historians.
The first problem, acknowledged as ‘the most baffling aspect of this difficult
subject’ by Thomas