This analysis of the origins of the Second World War in Europe challenges several key ideas of the historiography: the ‘thirty years war’ thesis, the notion of a European civil war, and the stereotyping of the 1930s as a seemingly unstoppable rush to war after the internationalism of the 1920s. There was no sharp contrast between decades—the period only makes sense as a whole. Churchill’s ‘unnecessary war’ was preventable. Alternatives to appeasement existed. Though the study of war origins starts with Hitler, his policies were decisively shaped by the actions of others and the instability of an international system, heavily impacted by the Great Depression and ideology. Miscalculation rather than design explains the war of 1939. The outbreak of war should not obscure the significance of the 1930s as a laboratory for ideas and institutions that came to fruition after 1945 and which continue to shape international society.
Helen Graham and Alejandro Quiroga
What Spain, Greece, and Portugal have in common in the twentieth century is the manner in which their internal processes of change – rural to urban, agrarian to industrial – were intervened in and inflected at crucial moments and with enduring effect by the force of international political agendas. By the 1960s, in all three countries, the fearful imaginaries of traditionalists still saw a disguised form of communism in the ‘godlessness’ of Americanisation, social liberalisation, and anti-puritanism. This article adopts a tripartite structure (1945: survival; 1970s: transition; after 1989: memory) in order to explore why, how, and with what consequences Southern European political establishments with clear Nazi links or empathies not only survived the collapse of Adolf Hitler's new order, but were also able to persist as dictatorial and authoritarian regimes into the 1970s. It then interrogates the nature of the subsequent transitions to parliamentary democracy, paying particular attention to the continuities. It is remarkable, even today, how few Western European or North American commentators understand the brutality beneath the burlesque of dictatorship in Southern Europe.
This chapter deals with the vast territories east of the Elbe river, including Poland–Lithuania, the Czech lands, Brandenburg–Prussia, and Russia. There are two primary and interlocking themes, first the westernization of these lands, secondly, the origins and development of the ‘second serfdom’ in the agrarian East. Westernization of the agrarian East came largely through the introduction and expansion of the ‘Frankish agrarian system’, which began around 1200 with Western colonization east of the Elbe. Westernization was essentially a repetition of basic agrarian developments that had already taken place in much of north-west Europe in the period 600–1000 AD. One of the most important of these developments was manorialism, and the so-called ‘second serfdom’ in Eastern Europe was thus not a deviation from westernization, but rather an integral part of it.
The main developments in western European agrarian society and economy are surveyed at the outset in a regional analysis which stresses the degree of variety within quite small areas and by the same token the irrelevance of national boundaries. The survey considers employment and production beyond tillage and pastoralism: fishing, hunting, mining, or local crafts and manufacturing are treated as part of the rural economy. There follows a detailed thematic analysis which examines crop yields, credit, share-cropping, landholding, labour, and total factor productivity. The conclusion briefly takes up the debate over the transition from feudalism to capitalism, initiated by Robert Brenner, to argue that the regional variations in landholding and inheritance practices which might emerge from an initially similar environment, while casting doubt on aspects of Brenner’s general thesis, nevertheless were shaped as much by power or class relations as by natural endowment, ecology, or technological innovations.
Agrarian producers (peasants, agricultural labourers, and the very small group of those who owned large estates, predominantly situated in the East-Elbian Prussian provinces) had a continually shrinking yet nevertheless sizeable presence in German society during the Weimar era. The chapter first covers the economic problems of the agrarian sector, from the controlled economy of the period up to 1922 to the agrarian crisis that commenced in 1927/28. It then analyses the social stratification of the village communities. While the revolution had removed the remaining legal obstacles to a full unionization of farm workers, the surge of social democratic union members among the workers on the East-Elbian estates was short lived. Brutal repression by the estate owners, but also the substantial benefits of the payment in kind that they received, had squashed labour unrest by 1921. The last section charts the history of agrarian protest in the years from 1924, and the ability of the Nazis to convert agrarian protest in Protestant regions into support for their party at the ballot box from 1930 to 1933.
Ralph W. Mathisen
By the late fifth century, there were two primary barbarian powers in Gaul, the Visigoths and the Franks. Both were enlarging their territories in the wake of the final precipitous decline of Roman authority during the 470s. The expansion achieved by the Frankish king Clovis I inevitably brought him into conflict with the Visigothic king Alaric II. During the 490s, the Franks made several unsuccessful forays into Brittany and south of the Loire. Subsequently, both sides did their best to consolidate their resources. Attempts by the Ostrogothic king Theoderic to avoid direct conflict failed, and war began in earnest in 507, when Clovis made a massive attack on the Visigothic kingdom. The decisive Frankish victory at Vouillé determined the map of sixth-century western Europe: the Franks gained control of most of Gaul, and the Visigoths consolidated their holdings in Spain.
D. W. Ellwood
The First World War cost Europe the leadership of the world. But the United States of Woodrow Wilson was not ready to take its place. The 1920s brought Europe to a crossroads where mass democracy, mass production, and mass communications—the latter two dominated by American innovations— transformed ideas of sovereignty, modernity, and identity everywhere. The financial crash of 1929 destroyed illusions about the United States as the land of the future, and helped legitimize the totalitarians. European democrats looked to the 1930s New Deal as their last best hope. During the Second World War Roosevelt rebuilt the global order, with the United Nations and other new institutions. But the United States was now looking to ‘retire’ Europe from the world scene, and build a new universe based on America’s experience of the link between mass prosperity and democratic stability.
Amulets, worn in almost all societies, were common in the Merovingian world. While bears’ teeth and cowrie shells needed little modification to be worn protectively, and coins had only to be pierced and occasionally inscribed, more elaborate amulets were specially crafted in complex forms. Bound pendants held spheroid materials, most often stone, in metalwork cages. Among those materials, rock crystal was the most popular, probably because it was thought to have apotropaic and healing properties. The next most frequent choice, iron ore, was credited with power against wounds, bleeding, and animal bites. The pendants were buried with grave assemblages gendered feminine, and most often accompanied women of childbearing age (rarely children or elders), suggesting that they were instrumental in constructing and manifesting those important aspects of social identity. Wealth and social status—of incumbents, their families, and/or their communities—is reflected in both the precious materials of the pendants and the richly ostentatious burials in which they have been found. Both metalwork setting types and the stones they hold vary from one region to another, and so they must have marked regional identity, and perhaps links between regions.
An “Epistolary Reformation”: The Role and Significance of Letters in the First Century of the Protestant Reformation
Letter exchange occupies a significant and growing role in the activities of the Protestant Reformers. This chapter offers explanations for its growing significance in the evolution of the Protestant Reformation. It analyses what over a century of investment in editing the correspondence of the magisterial Reformers has achieved. It offers a yearly profile of the surviving editorial correspondence. At the same time, it underlines the limitations of our concentration on the letters of magisterial Reformers by examining the role of letter exchange in the political evolution of the Protestant Reformation in the sixteenth century, and especially in the context of the coalitions at a distance that sustained it. It ends by evoking martyr letters, as found in the martyrologies of John Foxe and Jean Crespin, but also in a devotional context in Hutterite and Anabaptist dissenting traditions.
In contrast to traditional historiography, which insists on the absence of organization within the anarchist movement and on the individual character of propaganda by the deed, this chapter situates anarchist attacks in the context of a more structured movement that operated on a local, regional, national, and international scale. This movement was not, however, identical to the “Black International,” the fantasy of a small group giving orders to disciplined operatives that was dreamt up at the time by, among others, police informants and journalists. The chapter shows how, although some attacks were indeed individual and spontaneous, others were carefully prepared by local, regional, national, and cross-border networks whose members benefited from active solidarity within the movement and together managed to terrorize the Third Republic.
Susanne Wein and Martin Ulmer
Antisemitism was an integral part of the Weimar Republic’s political culture and was widespread in society. During the 1920s, hostility towards Jews was often radical and militant, complemented by their increasing exclusion in everyday life. Right-wing anti-democrats weaponized antisemitic conspiracy myths against the Weimar Republic, defamed as the ‘Jew Republic’. In Reich and state parliaments and in the party press, antisemites attempted to charge public discourses with antisemitism and, in doing so, change the unwritten rules of what could and could not be said. Dwindling republican forces largely underestimated the looming danger. The defence organizations of the German Jews, from the early 1930s, had hardly any chance against the superior numbers of the right-wing extremist movement under the leadership of the Nazi party.
Architecture, Town Planning, and Large-Scale Housing Estates: Challenges, Visions, and Proposed Solutions
Architecture and urban planning were facing great challenges during the Weimar Republic, given the difficult economic context of the time. The housing conditions in Germany had already been problematic prior to the First World War. In the Weimar Republic, their improvement was defined as a communal, not-for-profit task. New urban quarters emerged and a new urban infrastructure had to be created, while many historic urban cores changed into a ‘city centre’ dominated by business and consumerism. In the optimistic, euphoric situation of societal renewal after the war, many architects produced visionary projects. Yet at the same time, they had to develop pragmatic approaches for a cost-saving, industrialized type of housing construction. Large settlements in Berlin and in Frankfurt, or the experimental Weißenhof settlement in Stuttgart as well as the Bauhaus represented the ideas of an architectural avant-garde that was internationally connected. The protagonists of modernism, the so-called Neues Bauen, dominated contemporary coverage and contributed, once they had been forced into exile in 1933, to the global reach of this current. Yet in reality, architecture and housing construction in the Weimar Republic were not dominated by the Neues Bauen. They can rather be described as multiple modernity, which showed fluid boundaries and permeability between radical modernist forms and traditionalist elements.
This chapter suggests ways in which the military history of the civil war might be developed and widened to win over new audiences. It examines the social profile and composition of armies in the three kingdoms, the nature of soldiers’ recruitment and mobilization, along with their finance and supply. It explores how armies influenced politics, often feeding their grievances into factional politics, side-changing and infighting within both parliamentarian and royalist coalitions. It points to new directions for future research such as developing understanding of how the historical landscape influenced campaigning and battlefield encounters, as well as the provision of welfare for soldiers and their widows. It connects the identity of the rank and file to their battlefield performance and the strategies available to their commanders, demanding a greater appreciation of how the mobilization of resources was related to success on the battlefield.
T. K. Rabb
This chapter traces the revolution in style and taste that swept over the visual arts as a result of the movement we call the Renaissance. Not only was there a transformation in subject matter, which was almost entirely religious at our starting-point, around 1450, but also in style, in the status of the artist, in the types of art that were produced, in patronage, and in the market for paintings and engravings. To follow these changes, the period has been divided into four broad periods: 1350–1520, the age of the Renaissance; 1520–1600, the age of Mannerism; 1600–70, the age of Baroque; and 1670–1759, the age of Rococo. In each segment the main developments in painting, sculpture, and architecture are outlined; the principal figures are identified; and changes discussed.
This chapter considers the ideological and material struggle over art and architecture from the outbreak of the civil war to the Restoration. Loss of patrons and the removal of collections are linked to an exodus of artists and a depressed art market, although the presence of connoisseurs and virtuosi among the supporters of parliament is also noted. The widespread destruction of ‘idolatrous’ artworks and the many architectural casualties of war are seen to be counterbalanced by the appearance of new enthusiasms such as the growth of illustrated book production and uncompromising classicism in architecture. The struggle between king and parliament is also detected within art itself, with royalist imagery achieving even greater potency after the regicide.
R. Bin Wong
Many of early modern Europe’s connections to Asia were commercial in nature, in contrast to the colonial relations forged by Europeans in the Americas. This chapter considers the ways in which the connections that Europe had with Asia and the Americas provide a context for comparing the early modern political economies of China and Europe. Similarities and differences highlighted by this exercise help make clear both the dynamics of economic change common within both world regions as well as the character of their connections, illustrating important differences between them. The intellectual limitations of identifying historical parallels according to traits first observed in Europe is suggested by noting features of early modern Chinese political rule that are not observed in Europe until a later historical era. These topics illustrate various ways in which comparisons and connections to other world regions helps to place early modern Europe in a global history perspective.
In the twenty-year lifespan of the First Republic, there were three contenders for the label of fascist: the Austrian Nazi Party, the Heimwehr, and the Corporate State. In Austria, one is not comparing like with like, however: the Heimwehr and the Austrian Nazis constituted movements that existed from the outset of the new republic, the Nazis with origins reaching back to the turn of the century. The Corporate State, on the other hand, was a short-lived regime that incorporated and reacted to (and against) these movements. One can best compare the opening phases of fascism in the case of the Heimwehr and the Nazis: the Heimwehr only accrued partial power, and was ultimately incorporated into the Corporate State, and the ultimate Nazi victory in 1938 was ambiguous given that it was under German party leadership.
Samuel K. Cohn, Jr
Divisions between Marxist and non-Marxist historians have fuelled debate of late medieval and early modern popular protest over the past fifty years. Yet, an underlying consensus has arisen with two broad forms of popular revolt, a ‘pre-modern’ (encompassing the Middle Ages to as late as the mid-nineteenth century) and a ‘modern’ one. Supposedly, high bread prices sparked the former, women filled their ranks, the leaders came from the elites and not the rank-and-file of peasants or artisans, their ideologies were primitive and backward looking, and these revolts ended in repression, not revolution. With modernity the characteristics changed. This chapter challenges this ‘pre-modern’/’modern’ divide, arguing that late medieval popular revolts differed profoundly from those of the early modern period across all of these characteristics. The changes depended on a growing gap in power between rulers and the ruled that had begun in places by the closing decades of the fourteenth century.
Heather F. Roller
During the late eighteenth century, a range of autonomous Indian nations in Brazil forged more peaceful relationships with the Portuguese without submitting to colonial governance. This indicates the need to look beyond colonial policies of “pacification” to understand how these peace processes unfolded. This chapter builds on recent scholarship on indigenous peacemaking in colonial Latin America and presents new findings on the aims and perspectives of two important groups in western and northern Brazil (the Mbayá-Guaikurú and the Mura). These cases reveal that independent Indians had their own ideas of how peace should be made and what it should entail, compelling even the most cynical colonial officials on the ground to make concessions and compromises. The chapter also draws on the recent literature on peace agreements between Indians and Spaniards to provide a comparative perspective on the ways in which peace was made (and unmade) in the late colonial Iberian borderlands.
Common characteristics and objectives united the Axis alliance, composed of Fascist Italy, Nazi Germany, and imperial Japan. All three were ‘latecomers’ to the great power rivalries of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and all attacked the Wilsonian-inspired global order enshrined after the First World War. Hostile to liberalism, ‘open door’ capitalism, socialism, and communism, the Axis championed authoritarianism, autarky, and a variant of capitalism that integrated state management and investment. Finally, Fascist Italy, Nazi Germany, and imperial Japan sought empires as essential to eliminating social divisions. Although wary of the power of their enemies, they accepted that only war would accomplish that aim. Unable to match the resources of the Allies, the Axis powers resorted to murderous occupation practices that contributed to their defeat.