943 resultados para Colonial history
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From April 26-29, 1994, South Africa held its first universal, democratic elections. Witnessed by the world, South Africans of all races waited patiently in line to cast their ballots, signaling the official and symbolic birth of the “new” South Africa. The subsequent years, marked initially with euphoric hopes for racial healing enabled by institutional processes such as the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), have instead, most recently, inspired deep concern about epidemic levels of HIV/AIDS, violent crime, state corruption, and unbridled market reforms directed at everything from property to bodies to babies. Now, seemingly beleaguered state officials deploy the mantra “TINA” (There Is No Alternative [to neoliberal development]) to fend off criticism of growing income and wealth disparities. To coincide, more or less, with the anniversary of 1994—less to commemorate than to signal something about the trajectory of the past twenty years—we are proposing an interdisciplinary, special theme section of Comparative Studies in South Asia, Africa, and the Middle East (CSSAAME) entitled “The Haunted Present: Reckoning After Apartheid” (tentative title). The special theme section is framed around questions of reckoning in the double sense of both a moral and practical accounting for historical injury alongside the challenges and failures of the no-longer “new” South Africa. Against accounts depicting the liberation era as non-violent and peaceable, more nuanced analysis we argue suggests not only that South Africa’s “revolution” was marked by both collective and individual violence—on the part of the state and the liberation movements—but that reckoning with the present demands of scholars, the media, and cultural commentators that they begin to grapple more fully with the dimensions and different figurations of South Africa’s violent colonial history. Indeed, violence and reckoning appear as two central forces in contemporary South African political, economic, and social life. In response, we are driven to pose the following questions: In the post-apartheid period, what forms of (individual, structural) violence have come to bear on South African life? How does this violence reckon with apartheid and its legacies? Does it in fact reckon with the past? How can we or should we think about violence as a response to the (failed?) reckoning of state initiatives like the TRC? What has enabled or enables aesthetic forms—literature, photography, plastic arts, and other modes of expressive culture—to respond to the difficulties of South Africa’s ongoing transition? What, in fact, would a practice or ethic of reckoning defined in the following way look like? ˈrekəniNG/ noun: • the action or process of calculating or estimating something: last year was not, by any reckoning, a particularly good one; the system of time reckoning in Babylon • a person’s view, opinion, or judgment: by ancient reckoning, bacteria are plants • archaic, a bill or account, or its settlement • the avenging or punishing of past mistakes or misdeeds: the fear of being brought to reckoning there will be a terrible reckoning (Oxford English Dictionary) Looking back on the period, just before 1994, is sobering indeed. At the time, many saw in the energies and courage of those fighting for liberation the possibilities of a post-racial, post-conflict society. Yet as much as the new was ushered in, old apartheid forms lingered. Recalling Nadine Gordimer’s invocation of Gramsci’s “morbid symptoms” more and more it seems “the old is dying and the new cannot be born” (Gramsci cited in Gordimer 1982). And even as the new began to emerge other forces—both internal and external to South Africa—redefined the conditions for transformation. The so-called “new” South Africa, as Jennifer Wenzel has argued, was really more than anything “the changing face of old oppressions” (Wenzel 2009:159). The implications for our special theme section of CSSAAME are many. We begin by exploring the gender, race, and class dimensions of contemporary South African life by way of its literatures, histories, and politics, its reversion to custom, the claims of ancestors on the living, in brief, the various cultural expressive modes in which contemporary South Africa reckons with its past and in so doing accounts, day by day, for the ways in which the present can be lived, pragmatically. This moves us some distance from the exercise in “truth and reconciliation” of the earlier post-transition years to consider more fully the nature of post-conflict, the suturing of old enmities in the present, and the ways of resolving those lingering suspicions both ordinary and the stuff of the dark night of the soul (Nelson 2009:xv).
Resumo:
From April 26-29, 1994, South Africa held its first universal, democratic elections. Witnessed by the world, South Africans of all races waited patiently in line to cast their ballots, signaling the official and symbolic birth of the “new” South Africa. The subsequent years, marked initially with euphoric hopes for racial healing enabled by institutional processes such as the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), have instead, most recently, inspired deep concern about epidemic levels of HIV/AIDS, violent crime, state corruption, and unbridled market reforms directed at everything from property to bodies to babies. Now, seemingly beleaguered state officials deploy the mantra “TINA” (There Is No Alternative [to neoliberal development]) to fend off criticism of growing income and wealth disparities. To coincide, more or less, with the anniversary of 1994—less to commemorate than to signal something about the trajectory of the past twenty years—we are proposing an interdisciplinary, special theme section of Comparative Studies in South Asia, Africa, and the Middle East (CSSAAME) entitled “The Haunted Present: Reckoning After Apartheid” (tentative title). The special theme section is framed around questions of reckoning in the double sense of both a moral and practical accounting for historical injury alongside the challenges and failures of the no-longer “new” South Africa. Against accounts depicting the liberation era as non-violent and peaceable, more nuanced analysis we argue suggests not only that South Africa’s “revolution” was marked by both collective and individual violence—on the part of the state and the liberation movements—but that reckoning with the present demands of scholars, the media, and cultural commentators that they begin to grapple more fully with the dimensions and different figurations of South Africa’s violent colonial history. Indeed, violence and reckoning appear as two central forces in contemporary South African political, economic, and social life. In response, we are driven to pose the following questions: In the post-apartheid period, what forms of (individual, structural) violence have come to bear on South African life? How does this violence reckon with apartheid and its legacies? Does it in fact reckon with the past? How can we or should we think about violence as a response to the (failed?) reckoning of state initiatives like the TRC? What has enabled or enables aesthetic forms—literature, photography, plastic arts, and other modes of expressive culture—to respond to the difficulties of South Africa’s ongoing transition? What, in fact, would a practice or ethic of reckoning defined in the following way look like? ˈrekəniNG/ noun: • the action or process of calculating or estimating something: last year was not, by any reckoning, a particularly good one; the system of time reckoning in Babylon • a person’s view, opinion, or judgment: by ancient reckoning, bacteria are plants • archaic, a bill or account, or its settlement • the avenging or punishing of past mistakes or misdeeds: the fear of being brought to reckoning there will be a terrible reckoning (Oxford English Dictionary) Looking back on the period, just before 1994, is sobering indeed. At the time, many saw in the energies and courage of those fighting for liberation the possibilities of a post-racial, post-conflict society. Yet as much as the new was ushered in, old apartheid forms lingered. Recalling Nadine Gordimer’s invocation of Gramsci’s “morbid symptoms” more and more it seems “the old is dying and the new cannot be born” (Gramsci cited in Gordimer 1982). And even as the new began to emerge other forces—both internal and external to South Africa—redefined the conditions for transformation. The so-called “new” South Africa, as Jennifer Wenzel has argued, was really more than anything “the changing face of old oppressions” (Wenzel 2009:159). The implications for our special theme section of CSSAAME are many. We begin by exploring the gender, race, and class dimensions of contemporary South African life by way of its literatures, histories, and politics, its reversion to custom, the claims of ancestors on the living, in brief, the various cultural expressive modes in which contemporary South Africa reckons with its past and in so doing accounts, day by day, for the ways in which the present can be lived, pragmatically. This moves us some distance from the exercise in “truth and reconciliation” of the earlier post-transition years to consider more fully the nature of post-conflict, the suturing of old enmities in the present, and the ways of resolving those lingering suspicions both ordinary and the stuff of the dark night of the soul (Nelson 2009:xv).
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The development of Latin American cinema in the 1960s was underwritten by a number of key texts that outlined the aesthetic and political direction of individual filmmakers and collectives (Solanas and Getino, 1969; Rocha, 1965; Espinosa, 1969). Although asserting the specificity of Latin American culture, the theoretical foundations of its New Wave influenced oppositional filmmaking way beyond its own regional boundaries. This chapter looks at how movements in British art cinema, especially the Black Audio Film Collective, were inspired and propelled by the theories behind New Latin American cinema. Facilitated by English translations in journals such as Jump Cut in the early ‘80s, Cuban and Argentine cinematic manifestoes provided a radical alternative to the traditional language of film theory available to filmmakers in Europe and works such as Signs of Empire (1983-4); Handsworth Songs (1986) and Seven Songs for Malcolm X (1993) grew out of this trans-continental exchange. The Black Audio Film Collective represented a merging of politics, popular culture, and art that was, at once, oppositional and melodic. Fusing postcolonial discourse with pop music, the avant-garde and re-imaginings of subalternity, the work of ‘The Collective’ provides us with a useful example of how British art cinema has drawn from theoretical foundations formed outside of Europe and the West. As this chapter will argue however, the Black Audio Film Collective’s work can also be read as a reaction to the specificity of British socio-politics of the ‘80s and ‘90s. Its engagement with the aesthetico-political strategies of Latin American cinema, then, undercut what was a solidly British project, rooted in (post)colonial history and emerging ideas of disaporic identity. If the propulsive thrust of The Black Audio Film Collective’s art was shaped by Third Cinema, its images and concerns were self-consciously British.
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A questão dos retornados é ainda uma questão sensível na nossa sociedade. Alguns de nós conhecemos alguém, familiares ou amigos, que tiveram de fugir do Ultramar. No espaço de poucas décadas, o território ultramarino passava de Terra Prometida a pesadelo, com milhares de colonos a terem de regressar à metrópole, muitos apenas com a roupa que traziam colada ao corpo. Este artigo divaga sobre as razões pelas quais se iniciou a colonização de África, enumera os principais problemas da ocupação efectiva, principalmente no início do século passado, e fala sobre a vida social e económica no Ultramar até à independência dos territórios, com foco no caso angolano. Aborda ainda histórias contadas na primeira pessoa de situações sobre a fuga das colónias até à chegada a Portugal.
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The aim of this article was to examine how the currently dominant neoliberal and neoconservative discourse is present in the sector of education. The subject of research was to show the influence of a certain ideology on the process of reformulating secondary schools curricula in Canada, especially in Ontario, and the program materials designed for adult immigrants preparing for a citizenship test. This paper explores the relationship between the neoliberal ideology present at the provincial level, where individual development and economic rationales are dominant, and the neoconservative ideology at the federal level, which recovers imperial roots of Canadian citizenship, grounded in the Anglo-Saxon tradition and colonial history.
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ResumenEl artículo analiza las funciones del cabildo catedralicio de la Diócesis de Nicaragua y Costa Rica con el fin de explicar las relaciones sociales, políticas y económicas de sus miembros y determinar la importancia del cabildo en el funcionamiento de la diócesis entre los años 1531 y 1859. Las fuentes primarias coloniales sobre el cabildo catedralicio, los testamentos y padrones de diezmos, entre otros; revelan que los miembros del cabildo catedralicio de León tuvieron funciones específicas dentro de la diócesis tanto durante la sede vacante como cuando existía Obispo al frente de la diócesis. Los miembros del cabildo catedralicio no constituyeron un cuerpo capitular aislado de la sociedad, sino que mantuvieron relaciones de confianza, económicas y sociales entre ellos y con la sociedad que los rodeaba, por tanto, fueron un cuerpo capitular crucial para el funcionamiento de la diócesis durante su sede vacante y cuando fueron el consejo asesor del ObispoAbstractThe article analyzes the functions of the cathedral chapter of the Diocese of Nicaragua and Costa Rica with the purpose of explaining the social, political and economic relations of its members and determining the importance of the chapter in the operation of the diocese between the years 1531 and 1859. Colonial primary sources, including testaments and tithe registers, among others, reveal that the members of the cathedral chapter of Leon had specific functions within the diocese, both when the see was vacant and when there was a Bishop in office. The members of the cathedral chapter did not constitute a capitular body isolated from the rest of society. Rather, they maintained economic and social relations of trust among themselves and with the society that surrounded them. Therefore, they were a capitular body crucial to the operation of the diocese, both when they served as the bishops advisory committee and when they governed the diocese in the absence of a Bishop.
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This article proposes a critical analysis of recent interpretations made to the history of architecture and urban planning in the Portuguese colonial context in the twentieth century, particularly in the former African territories. More generally, it intends to explore how the internal history produced by specific fields of activity, such as architecture or urbanism, can reinforce the logic of a national and nationalized history. This effect is due partly to the fact that the legitimacy of these fields is largely dependent on the national identification in the context of activities that are internationalized. I will argue that the specific field of activity, while creating this internal discourse, can directly or indirectly produce representations of the nation, its history and its people on a larger scale, penetrating popular culture and influencing a shared common sense. In the case in question, the internal discourse on architectural and urbanistic works, on authors and styles, eventually reinforces an idealized and idyllic image of Portuguese colonialism.
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This article focuses on the studies and discourses of mostly British scholars of the early colonial period belonging to two schools of thought. It shows how the studies of both schools – European orientalism and utilitarianism – were intricately connected to the political development of the emerging British paramountcy over the South Asian sub-continent, as both were looking for means of establishing and/or strengthening colonial rule. Nevertheless, the debate was not just a continuation of discussions in Europe. Whereas the ideas of the European Enlightenment had some influence, the transformation of the Mughal Empire and especially the idea of a decline of Muslim rule offered ample opportunities for understanding the early history of India either as some sort of “Golden Age,” as the orientalists and their indigenous supporters did, or as something static and degenerate, as the utilitarians did, and from which the population of sub-continent had to be saved by colonial rule and colonial values. Fearing the spread of the ideas of the French Revolution, the first group of British scholars sought to persuade the native elites of South Asia to take the lessons of their past for the future development of their homeland. Just as the classicists back in Europe, these scholars were convinced that large-scale explanations of the past could also teach political and moral lessons for the present although it was important to deal with the distant past in an empirical manner. The utilitarians on the other hand believed that India had to be saved from its own depravity through the English language and Western values, which amounted to nothing less than the modern transformation of the true Classical Age.
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Mode of access: Internet.
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Mode of access: Internet.
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Published in 1834-35 under the title: History of the British colonies.
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Mode of access: Internet.
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Originally pub. in weekly numbers, under title, The American library.