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It is difficult to state conclusively whether the German revolution of 1848 was a success or a failure. I take a more sceptical view of the positive consequences of this revolution view than many recenbt historians of the period, at least in Germany. In order to explain and substantiate this position, I will begin by outlining a few theses taking a closer look at the character of the German revolution of 1848 and its social and political base. Then I shall discuss the question of the 'success or failure of the revolution' and the long-term effects of the events and developments of the year 1848. In the following I shall concentrate primarily on Prussia as the centre of the later German
Empire, and I shall focus particularly on the situation in the cities.
`Contemporary history' is inherently relevant to, indeed an integral part of, political and social processes in the present. Yet, despite a high level of politicisation of historical debates, the issue of `objectivity' or `value neutrality' cannot be addressed solely in terms of the views of the individual historian, or the wider functions fulfilled by a particular historical interpretation. Attention needs to be shifted to the conceptualisation and `emplotment' of a historical narrative within a given theoretical paradigm. Professional history entails not (merely) the imposition of creative stories, as post-modernists would have it, nor (only) the digging up of ever more `facts' about the past, as on the empiricist view. Rather, it is a puzzle-solving discipline requiring appropriate conceptual tools for the investigation of specific, theoretically constructed, questions. This article reviews recent developments in German contemporary history in the light of this framework.
Like any political, economic, or social happening, the building of architecture can be understood as an historical event. But unlike those other, particularly discrete, types of events, an architectural “event” takes on a concrete form that not only preserves the moment of its beginning but also registers, to a palpable extent, further developments within its context - a process that can be understood as the development of scars upon the architectural surface. It is no coincidence, then, that Reinhart Koselleck used an architectural metaphor to describe the layering of "geschichtliche Zeiten" (historical times) that emerge between "Vergangenheit" and "Zukunft" (past and future), "Erfahrung" and "Erwartung" (experience and expectation): „Wer sich im Alltag von geschichtlicher Zeit eine Anschauung zu machen sucht, der mag auf die Runzeln eines alten Menschen achten oder auf Narben, in denen ein vergangenes Lebensschicksal gegenwärtig ist. Oder er wird sich das Nebeneinander von Trümmern und Neubauten in Erinnerung rufen, und er wird auf den augenfälligen Stilwandel blicken, der einer räumlichen Häuserflucht ihre zeitliche Tiefendimension verleiht, oder er wird auf das Neben-, Unter- und Übereinander unterschiedlicher modernisierter Verkehrsmittel schauen [...].“
This article discusses key aspects of the symbolic politics of the British and West German anti-nuclear-weapons movements in the late 1950s and early 1960s. More specifically, it examines the interaction between protest, politics, the media and the public sphere. It proposes two analyses of the protests: first, as the creation of a public sphere by means of "street politics" and, second, as a key to establishing an emotional community of protesters both in a national and transnational context. The media played a crucial role by enabling isolated protests to be perceived as parts of broader movements. The article argues that protests in both countries by and large adhered to, rather than transcended, the dominant national cultural codes. These movements thus exemplify the ways in which international relations, transnational links and national protest traditions interact.
The ideological lines between the conservation movement and the Nazi regime have received much attention. This article explores a new perspective by focusing on the level of practical politics. After several setbacks and disappointments since 1933, the passage of the national conservation law in 1935 became the crucial turning point. The law instilled a secular boom of conservation work, which lasted until about 1940, nourishing an atmosphere of almost unlimited enthusiasm for the Nazi regime in conservation circles. At the same time, conservationists were crossing sensitive thresholds in their desire to use the law to
the greatest extent possible.
Labour Policy in Industry
(2008)
From 1933 onwards industrial law was transformed from one which protected employees to one intended to secure the regime’s power over them. In the Third Reich the political and ideological aims of the regime - under the cloak of ‘Volk und Rasse’ (nation and race) - became the guiding principles of a new labour law. Evidence of this can be found in the destruction of trade unions, the arbitrary treatment to which non-conforming employees could be subjected, the integration of employees into the network of National Socialist institutions, the authoritarian wage policy, the rapidly vanishing significance of labour courts and the ascendancy of legal offices of the German Labour Front (Deutsche Arbeitsfront, DAF), which propagated the theory of a racist national community (Volksgemeinschaft).
A radical process of standardization of tourist destinations around the globe, particularly in urban contexts, has been described by numerous scholars during the last decades. Indeed, the reinvention of many cities as tourist destinations has made evident ‘an odd paradox: whereas the appeal of tourism is the opportunity to see something different, cities that are remade to attract tourists seem more and more alike’. In such a context, both scholars and practitioners point to abstract elements such as images, identities, flairs, and experiences, as the main elements defining destinations’ profiles. The American historian Catherine Cocks argued that the attribution of a ‘personality’ to the city was a key aspect in the transformation of American cities into tourist destinations. Urban personalities made the city easily available, readable and intelligible, transformed it into a salable commodity, and offered a compelling reason to visit it and to come back. Similarly, contemporary European cities can be seen as bearers of specific local urban identities that remain relatively fixed even when information, stereotypes and attributes may prove to be inaccurate or simply false. Wolfgang Kaschuba has in this sense described the production of urban identities as a cultural technique that is predominantly performed in certain societal spaces such as literature, tourism, mass media, pop culture, and history marketing. This article focuses on one of such spaces, tourism, and explores how tourist communication transforms Berlin into a distinct and unique destination. It asks how the city is enacted by tourism as a singular and bounded entity, to which multiple orderings of identity are attributed.
Northeim is a town on the Leine River situated in the hilly region of Lower Saxony between Hildesheim and Göttingen; to historians it is known as the location of William Sheridan Allen’s path-breaking study of the Nazi Machtergreifung. The book was based on a 1962 dissertation at the University of Minnesota, and Allen first published it while at the University of Missouri in Columbia in 1965. Within two years, it appeared in England and was translated into German and French. Allen had settled at the State University of New York in Buffalo by the time I read the second, revised edition (New York 1984), which I used to write this review. In the forty years since its publication, Allen’s readable history became a standard for undergraduates in North America; and his microhistory of the Machtergreifung has been replicated in most German localities. A number of American scholars in particular have followed in Allen’s footsteps: Peter Fritzsche, David Imhoof, Rudy Koshar, and others, including myself. Part of the reason for the interest of American doctoral students in German Mittelstädte is, of course, pragmatic. When one has limited time and money for a research trip abroad, it seems reasonable to select for study an ‘überschaubare’ provincial town. The peculiarities of American culture is surely another reason that historians from the United States look for the German equivalent of ‘middle America’ in what Mack Walker called ‘German home towns’.1 But in the end, German historians from many countries, including Germany, have adopted Allen’s method because close investigations of events ‘on the ground’ offer a necessary balance to modern German histories ‘writ large’.
What have been the contributions of social memory studies to the discourse of German history, particularly about the Nazi past? This essay seeks to distinguish between the memory boom in politics and culture and the more durable insights of social theory and historiography about memory, including insights about this memory boom itself. In particular, it explores mythologies of ‘turning points’ in the discourse of memory, arguing that the attribution of such turning points is often overstated. To be sure, 1989 did mark significant ruptures. But comparing present debates to the Historikerstreit (historians’ dispute) of the mid-1980s, and the Historikerstreit to earlier debates shows that as much has stayed the same as has changed. We remember not just the Nazi past, but the previous ways in which we have remembered the Nazi past, and our mnemonic practices are as much comments on earlier practices as on the event itself.
After the Second World War, West German Catholics placed more faith in religious miracles than they did at almost any other period in the modern era. West German congregations reported eleven apparitions of the Virgin Mary to Church officials be-tween 1945 and 1954, as well as Europe’s most prominent twentieth century case of stigmata. Existing scholarship links the popularity of these alleged miracles to the ways in which Marian symbolism articulated anxieties about war trauma and the Cold War. This article illustrates how an interconnected movement of rural women, provincial priests, concentration camp survivors, and former prisoners of war based around Marian visions and stigmata emerged as a reaction not only to the Cold War, but also to Americanisation, consumerism, and the Nazi past. To frame the bitter conflicts between Marian pilgrims and Church hierarchy about the recognition of religious miracles, the article utilises Pierre Bourdieu’s concept of ‘religious field’. It also takes into account the gendered character of the conflicts.