We use cookies to distinguish you from other users and to provide you with a better experience on our websites. Close this message to accept cookies or find out how to manage your cookie settings.
To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure no-reply@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
“Socialist Realism, Socialist Expressionism” examines how Expressionist aesthetics metamorphosed from a radical critique of bourgeois liberalism into full-blown fascism. During his period of involvement with National Socialism, Gottfried Benn treated the Volk as an aesthetic object – as a work of art that could be shaped and refined through direct eugenic interventions. Yet Benn’s staunchest critics on the left did not dismiss his aesthetic definition of the Volk outright. Instead, they appropriated the Volk for a leftist politics. Examining the celebrated Expressionism Debate of 1937–1938, I argue that Marxists like Georg Lukács refrained from a vocabulary of class struggle in order to promote a populist aesthetics that associated the Volk with a distinctly anti-modernist literary mode: the realist novel. Hence the chapter grapples with populist cultural politics from both the radical left and right at the moment when the liberal tradition descending from Kant was reaching its nadir.
The final published debate in which Neurath participated was with Horace Kallen, founding member of the New School in New York. This discussion with manifold cultural dimensions was a fitting swansong for Neurath, summarizing key themes of his thought and highlighting essential issues of his complex and contentious legacy. Kallen suspected Neurath’s drive for ‘Unity of Science’ as harbouring the danger of totalitarianism, but Neurath defended the pluralism of his approach while accepting Kallen’s proposed term of ‘orchestration’ instead of ‘unity’ for the sciences. Neurath felt rather neglected for his scholarly achievements at the end of his life, but these now become increasingly more relevant.
“Eusynoptos” takes its title from the Aristotelian notion of εὐσύνοπτος: “easily taken in at a glance.” In the Politics, Aristotle maintains that the size of a city is strictly delimited by the number of citizens that can be visually comprehended at a glance. But what if a machine were to augment the sensory capacities of humans? Could a political entity then be expanded beyond its natural limits? Confronting these questions in his film theory, Walter Benjamin modernizes eusynoptos by showing how the movie camera records large masses of individuals in a manner impossible for the naked eye. Informed by Benjamin’s idiosyncratic Marxism, the coda examines the reception of Nazi propaganda films in the United States in order to develop a critical theory of collective spectatorship that promotes a rational politics, thereby pressing back on an irrationalist tradition in aesthetics leading from Schelling and Schopenhauer through Nietzsche to fascism.
This chapter examines an intriguing debate that Neurath started along with co-author J. A. Lauwerys by denouncing Plato’s Republic as a totalitarian vision with affinities to Nazism. They did this in the context of planning German re-education after the war. Neurath had a theory about the inherent tendencies in what he called the ‘German climate’ for subservience to grand ideas of duty, and he felt that continued reverence for Plato could lead young Germans astray in this respect. His attack on Plato provoked an angry response from countless educators and scholars in 1944, raising issues that are still relevant today. Neurath and Lauwerys’ views were overshadowed by Popper’s similar treatment of Plato in The Open Society and Its Enemies and, to Popper’s annoyance, he was lumped together with them by some critics.
Chapter 1 introduces the figure of the foreign fighter in the interwar period by focusing on the Spanish Civil War. It shows how the image of the nineteenth-century adventurer haunts the imaginary of the actors preoccupied with finding a legal status for the volunteers in Spain. This image is nonetheless constantly split in two: idealists and freebooters; heroes and opportunists; barbaric troops and brave highlanders. The chapter moves from the League to the Anglo-American doctrine, to domestic discussions and ends at The Hague in 1907. It is there that rules on foreign volunteers are codified in an international convention for the first time. The chapter further links the Brussels Conference of 1874 to those of Geneva in 1949 and offers a lens through which to understand how the shifting image of the adventurer reaches the decolonization period.
The Yorkshire novelist Storm Jameson wrote that her work tended to ‘sag beneath my great ideas’, as she fought to reconcile her own frustrations with a world of isms and inconsistencies. This chapter explores In the Second Year (1936) Storm Jameson’s dystopian vision of fascist Britain and what this might look like. Like many of her other novels is waterlogged with dialogues and monologues which seek to unpack and explore the great ideas of the age - modernity; capitalism; materialism; individualism - and the ways in which they inform and underpin the attractions of a particularly British fascism, one fashioned in a crucible of class prejudices, the public school system and growing inequality.
The paper will be looking at two Second World War texts, Olaf Stapledon’s 1944 science fiction fantasy Sirius, about the genetic modification of a sheepdog so that it becomes a superdog capable of speech and spiritual and erotic relationships; and Charles Williams’ 1945 theological fantasy All Hallow’s Eve. The novels are novels of ideas, testing theories of creative evolution and species distinctions with Stapledon, and damnation and control with Williams: both explore the death drive within the psyche in war culture, and posit the very different ways infection by Fascist politics have shaped those explorations.
Between October 1954 and May 1955 RAI, the Italian public broadcaster, transmitted its first operetta season on television, promoted by Radiocorriere, the RAI house weekly, in terms of ‘a world coming back’. Yet this comeback did not have the lasting impact that was evidently desired: Italian television would never again pay such close attention to operetta, and the 1954–5 ‘operetta season’ remains an intriguing one-off. This neglected encounter between mass media and music in twentieth-century Italy has rich historiographical potential, which the article explores. Among other issues, studying the 1954–5 RAI operetta season helps us better understand not only the deep connections between postwar Italian culture and its fascist past – still a contentious matter – but also the complex discursive, technological and affective interactions between a mass medium tirelessly promoted as new and a form of popular entertainment that was already perceived as hopelessly out of date.
Edward Gordon Craig was a controversial and iconoclastic figure in the early twentieth-century British theatre. Underpinning his work as a director, designer, and essayist was a desire to secure obedience and loyalty from the people with whom he worked and to ensure that he was the unquestioned authority. Nowhere was this ambition clearer than in his School for the Art of the Theatre, which he ran in Florence from 1913 to 1914. This article draws on extensive archival research, providing a detailed examination of the School’s structure, organization, and curriculum and demonstrating the importance that Craig placed on discipline, which became the School’s governing principle. It contextualizes the School’s practice, discussing Craig’s work in and outside the theatre and his political views so as to consider why he prized discipline above all else. In particular, the article reveals, for the first time, his intense misogyny and celebration of fascism in the 1920s and 1930s, and shows how this informed his school scheme and was informed by it.
This article explores the socio-ecological impacts of Fascist hydropower extraction in the Alpine valleys of Italy, focusing on the Toce river basin during the interwar period. It investigates the conflicts between local communities and hydropower initiatives by private energy companies under Fascism, thereby revealing the regime's communication strategies rooted in its political ecology. By analysing newspaper articles, propaganda outlets and communal archival documents, the study uncovers statal and local perspectives on infrastructure development and its enduring consequences. How the political ecology of Fascism in a high-altitude hydropower construction site became an expression of Fascist modernity will thereby be shown. Despite objections from valley inhabitants, Fascist hydropower projects persisted, perpetuating socio-ecological inequalities after 1945. Even postwar efforts for compensation failed to address the long-lasting impacts on mountain communities. This research reveals the intersection of political ecology and modernist infrastructure development in Mussolini's Italy, and thus also highlights the legacies of Fascist resource extraction policies on the country's peripheral Alpine regions.
References to “Weimar” have played an increasingly important role in trying to make sense of the present, and also to mobilize various constituencies. Related to the diagnosis of contemporary political movements as fascist or neo-fascist, there is the question of whether some of the lessons drawn in the postwar period from the failures of Weimar – especially the ones that inspired the creation of the legal toolkit generally known as “militant democracy” – should be central to attempts to defend democracy today. This chapter engages both issues and argues that the toolkit of militant democracy remains valuable in many ways – but that its instruments are often not well suited to dealing with today’s challenges to democracy.
This chapter examines how a shared experience of isolation during the Second World War clouded a sense of the future for civilian internees. It focuses on how various historical processes collapsed into the spacetime of confinement for most working-age Italian men in Egypt. British authorities had planned a complete shutdown of the Italian community during Italy’s 1935 Ethiopia campaign, when they perceived the large-scale participation in fascist institutions as a ’fifth column’ threat to their authority in Egypt. After June 1940, Anglo-Egyptian authorities closed Italian institutions, froze bank accounts, restricted movement, and forbade the signing of contracts with Italian nationals. Italian institutional life, which had become central to the population during the after 1919 was abruptly brought to a halt. While the buttressing of the Italian population collapsed during the war, many of its political structures remained intact. In this chapter, the camp is seen as a temporal isolation chamber, one that delimited the horizons of the internees during the war and then moulded a shared experience that would inform their relationship with the post-fascist Italian state after the war.
This chapter shows how extraterritorial jurisdiction facilitated the coexistence of nationalist and imperialist projects in colonial Egypt. The safeguards proffered by Ottoman-era extraterritoriality had been either adapted to European colonial administrations or cancelled by the early twentieth century. In Egypt, they remained in effect until 1937, playing a formative role when Mussolini announced an aggressively imperialistic project in the Mediterranean in 1933. Cultural institutions, state schools, and Italian consulates became crucial sites of encounter and propaganda dissemination for the regime. Rome’s focus on building a national community coincided with a steady rise in unemployment among Italian subjects. Italians in Egypt became dependent upon Italian state structures just as the they became vital to Rome’s propaganda in the region. Notwithstanding the efforts of the fascist government to convince Egyptian nationalists that Italy’s imperial ambitions posed no territorial threat, the 1936 Anglo-Egyptian Treaty set the stage for the end of extraterritoriality and discourse around ’repatriation’ emerged to mitigate tensions between nationalist and imperialist projects.
The aim of this article is to open a new way of understanding corruption by examining its place within the law and culture of the European semi-periphery, with a focus on inter-war Romania. My intention is to operate a twofold displacement of the analysis of the anti-corruption and the status of constitutional practice in this context. First, I aim to reposition the question of political corruption within a jurisprudential and legal historical context. In this way I inquire what is the legal theoretical importance of political corruption in a post-dependency context? In other words, what can the representation of corruption entail for law, and for a particular legal historical trajectory within the European periphery. Second, I move towards exploring the context of the inter-war period as well as the discursive construction of political corruption within the law and through the fascist criticism levelled against it.
This article draws on a broad range of under-explored historical sources to document the career trajectories of the women who worked in the Italian film industry between 1930 and 1944. Challenging established histories that normalise male dominance in Italian cinema during and after Mussolini's regime, the article sheds light on women's overlooked contribution to Italy's sound film industry and explores the multilayered, shifting dimension of their precarious and gendered labour. Engaging with key questions raised by historians of Italian Fascism and by feminist research in film and media history, the article delineates intersectional barriers to film employment faced by women in the years of the dictatorship and points to their historical legacy.
This chapter examines the rich and complicated relationship between Pirandello and Germany, beginning with his formation in Bonn and with German intellectual sources that were important for his worldview. It then examines the important role of the German stage and German director Max Reinhardt in influencing his mature theatre. At the same time, Pirandello’s own views of Germany also shifted over time, from his cultural affiliation with German thinkers to criticism of Austria and Germany in the period of the Great War. Spanning from inspiration to reception, Germany held an important if shifting and ambiguous place in Pirandello’s work and life.
Southern European Fascist regimes claimed to be ruled by a higher concept of ‘social justice’. While the propagandistic nature of this claim is clear, this chapter argues that behind it lies a coherent (if at times paradoxical) ideal that directed the action of states and institutions. Drawing on the cases of Italy and Portugal, this chapter charts the roots of fascist ‘social justice’ and how it reflected a core set of ideas about the relationship between the individual and the state where hierarchy and the primacy of the nation shaped a deeply anti-egalitarian idea of justice.
This article traces the evolution of Italian strategies for imperial expansion from the decades after unification—when many came to believe that imperial conquest would more advantageously position Italy in the liberal capitalist global economy—to the height of the fascist colonial project in the Horn of Africa—when the fascists tried to break with the liberal global economy and construct a new, radical mercantilist and corporatist empire. Taking inspiration from their predecessors, the fascist regime extracted capital, resources, and labor from Africans and Italians to finance its war against the Ethiopian empire and its colonization of the Horn. While the war temporarily stimulated Italian industry, employed hundreds of thousands of work-hungry Italians, and consolidated the regime’s many corporatist institutions, it drained Italy’s reserves and alarmed the Duce’s allies among Italy’s industrial and financial elite. The regime, thus, shifted strategies, focusing on reducing the cost of the empire by exploiting African workers, eliminating inefficient small enterprises, and creating vast concessions for Italian industrialists. Conquering new territories and markets, acquiring a variety of primary resources, and empowering industry, Mussolini and the radical mercantilist-corporatists aimed to resolve Italy’s perceived under-development, by placing Italy at the center of a great fascist Eurafrican empire that could dictate the terms of its engagement with the rest of the world.
This article links the study of transnational and imperial fascism in the context of the Italian occupation of Albania by examining how Italian authorities sought to turn Albanians abroad into assets rather than liabilities. Organising and monitoring Albanians occurred through conferences, youth institutions and consular activities. Studying such concrete contacts and negotiations allows us to explore the practical issues latent in expanding fascist political subjectivity in transnational and imperial contexts. On the one hand, Italians hoped to verse Albanians in a fascist identity by using existing organisational strategies while silencing or converting potential anti-Italian critics. On the other, many Albanians expressed and offered support for these Italian efforts, though with reservations and conditions, raising questions as to what it meant to be an Albanian nationalist and/or fascist in the years of occupation. The Albanian case therefore contributes to our understanding of the tensions inherent in ‘universalising’ fascism for colonial subjects.
In recent years, the architectural legacy and so-called ‘difficult heritage’ of Fascist Italy has become a flourishing field of research. These topics have also begun to make their way into the undergraduate classroom. To date, however, there has been little research carried out into the methods we use to teach the history of Fascism in particular. In this short article, we outline how we have applied problem-based learning and scenario-based learning approaches to tackle this topic. After presenting three assignments, we explain the benefits associated with a PBL/SBL approach, summarised under the headings of interdisciplinarity, creativity and authenticity, before highlighting some aspects on which colleagues may wish to reflect if they are considering adopting a similar approach in their teaching.