958 resultados para State violence
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This research focused on the re-emerging of national and minority identities and the concomitant hostilities emerging from them in Hungary and in Romania. In particular the findings indicate that extremist incidents against members of minority groups on the local level seem to follow patterns in publicised media events. Violent attacks by skinheads against Gypsies in Hungary are often isolated incidents but are also inadvertently supported by biased media coverage, hostile majority attitudes and stereotyped behaviour reproduced in the media. The research also indicates that extremism both in Hungary against Gypsies and in Romania against Hungarians is of three kinds: organised within the framework of extremist groups, state-supported violence (both real and symbolic), and isolated, local instances with a few perpetrators committing atrocities. However, and this is a positive development, with rising interethnic tensions and extremist attacks prevalent in Hungary and Romania, there is also a parallel emergence of a more sophisticated human and minority rights campaign to combat them.
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The article reflects on the difficult relation between community work against domestic violence and local crime prevention under the conditions of the neoliberal state that cuts down on social benefits and promotes self-help, active citizenship and self-responsibility instead while at the same time restoring the punishing state with its strict regime of law-and-order. The author describes a project Tarantula - she started herself while being a social worker in Hamburg, Germany. Tarantula was aimed at strengthening social networks and the neighbours' willingness to get involved in favour of affected women. Although conceptualized as an emancipatory approach referring to community organizing in the tradition of social movements it is questionable whether and how this can really work in the current situation. At present, the field of crime control is being reconfigured as a result of political and administrative decisions, which, for their part, are based on a new structure of social relations and cultural attitudes. The demolition of the 'welfare state' means the re-coding of the security policy that facilitates the development of interventionist techniques that govern and control individuals through their own ability to act.
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There is a plethora of criminological explanations why criminal violence increased during the three decades between the early 1960s and the early 1990s. This paper argues that most available interpretations are lacking in three respects: they lack a historical perspective that anchors the three critical decades in a wider understanding of long-term trends; they take the nation-state as their unit of analysis and disregard important commonalities across the Western world; and they pay insufficient attention to different trends in broad categories of physical violence.This paper therefore takes a macro-level and long-term perspective on violent crime, focussing on European homicide during the past 160 years. It demonstrates that the period of increase was preceded by a long-term decline and convergence of homicide rates from the 1840s to the 1950s. Also, it shows that both the decline and the increase primarily resulted from temporal variation in the likelihood of physical aggression between men in public space. It argues that explanations of these common trends need to take into account broad long-term cultural change common to Western societies. In particular, the paper suggests that shifts in culturally transmitted and institutionally embedded ideals of the conduct of life may provide an explanation for long-term change in levels of interpersonal violence.
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Child abuse and neglect are universal risk factors for delinquency, violence and aggression; this phenomenon is known as the cycle of violence. Despite a wide body of research demonstrating this phenomenon, the processes which mediate this relationship remain largely unknown. One potentially relevant result of abuse and neglect may be disruptions in the development of the body’s stress response, specifically the function of the Hypothalamic-Pituitary-Adrenal (HPA) axis. The HPA-axis, and its end-product, cortisol, may play a role in regulating aggressive behavior, but this function may be disrupted following abuse and neglect. Another risk factor for aggression, psychopathy, may mediate the cycle of violence or independently contribute to aggressive behavior. This study examined the relationship between child abuse and neglect, HPA-axis function, psychopathy and aggression. History of abuse was measured using a self-report questionnaire, the Childhood Trauma Questionnaire. Using a within-subject, placebo-controlled, counter-balanced dosing design, 67 adults were given an acute dose of 20mg cortisol as a challenge to the HPA-axis. Following dosing, measures of cortisol response were obtained through saliva samples, and state-aggressive behavior was measured by a laboratory task, the Point-Subtraction Aggression Paradigm (PSAP). Basal measures of cortisol were obtained prior to dosing. Psychopathy and a trait-measure of aggression were assessed through self-report questionnaires. PSAP data and trait-aggression scores were normalized and summed for an overall aggression score. Linear regression analyses indicated that a history of abuse and neglect robustly predicted aggression, supporting the cycle of violence hypothesis. Further, abuse and neglect predicted a diminished HPA-axis response to the cortisol challenge. Although a diminished HPA-axis response significantly predicted increased aggression, mediation analysis revealed that HPA-axis reactivity did not mediate a significant portion of the effect of abuse and neglect on aggression. However, HPA-axis reactivity did mediate part of the effect, indicating that HPA-axis function may be a factor in the cycle of violence. Psychopathy robustly predicted increased aggression. Although the results indicate that cortisol, psychopathy and HPA-axis function are involved in the cycle of violence, further research is required to better understand the complex interaction of these factors.
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LINCOLN UNIVERSITY - On March 25, 1965, a bus loaded with Lincoln University students and staff arrived in Montgomery, Ala. to join the Selma march for racial and voting equality. Although the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was in force, African-Americans continued to feel the effects of segregation. The 1960s was a decade of social unrest and change. In the Deep South, specifically Alabama, racial segregation was a cultural norm resistant to change. Governor George Wallace never concealed his personal viewpoints and political stance of the white majority, declaring “Segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever.” The march was aimed at obtaining African-Americans their constitutionally protected right to vote. However, Alabama’s deep-rooted culture of racial bias began to be challenged by a shift in American attitudes towards equality. Both black and whites wanted to end discrimination by using passive resistance, a movement utilized by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. That passive resistance was often met with violence, sometimes at the hands of law enforcement and local citizens. The Selma to Montgomery march was a result of a protest for voting equality. The Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) and the Southern Christian Leadership Counsel (SCLC) among other students marched along the streets to bring awareness to the voter registration campaign, which was organized to end discrimination in voting based on race. Violent acts of police officers and others were some of the everyday challenges protesters were facing. Forty-one participants from Lincoln University arrived in Montgomery to take part in the 1965 march for equality. Students from Lincoln University’s Journalism 383 class spent part of their 2015 spring semester researching the historical event. Here are their stories: Peter Kellogg “We’ve been watching the television, reading about it in the newspapers,” said Peter Kellogg during a February 2015 telephone interview. “Everyone knew the civil rights movement was going on, and it was important that we give him (Robert Newton) some assistance … and Newton said we needed to get involve and do something,” Kellogg, a lecturer in the 1960s at Lincoln University, discussed how the bus trip originated. “That’s why the bus happened,” Kellogg said. “Because of what he (Newton) did - that’s why Lincoln students went and participated.” “People were excited and the people along the sidewalk were supportive,” Kellogg said. However, the mood flipped from excited to scared and feeling intimidated. “It seems though every office building there was a guy in a blue uniform with binoculars standing in the crowd with troops and police. And if looks could kill me, we could have all been dead.” He says the hatred and intimidation was intense. Kellogg, being white, was an immediate target among many white people. He didn’t realize how dangerous the event in Alabama was until he and the others in the bus heard about the death of Viola Liuzzo. The married mother of five from Detroit was shot and killed by members of the Ku Klux Klan while shuttling activists to the Montgomery airport. “We found out about her death on the ride back,” Kellogg recalled. “Because it was a loss of life, and it shows the violence … we could have been exposed to that danger!” After returning to LU, Kellogg’s outlook on life took a dramatic turn. Kellogg noted King’s belief that a person should be willing to die for important causes. “The idea is that life is about something larger and more important than your own immediate gratification, and career success or personal achievements,” Kellogg said. “The civil rights movement … it made me, it made my life more significant because it was about something important.” The civil rights movement influenced Kellogg to change his career path and to become a black history lecturer. Until this day, he has no regrets and believes that his choices made him as a better individual. The bus ride to Alabama, he says, began with the actions of just one student. Robert Newton Robert Newton was the initiator, recruiter and leader of the Lincoln University movement to join Dr. Martin Luther King’s march in Selma. “In the 60s much of the civil rights activists came out of college,” said Newton during a recent phone interview. Many of the events that involved segregation compelled college students to fight for equality. “We had selected boycotts of merchants, when blacks were not allowed to try on clothes,” Newton said. “You could buy clothes at department stores, but no blacks could work at the department stores as sales people. If you bought clothes there you couldn’t try them on, you had to buy them first and take them home and try them on.” Newton said the students risked their lives to be a part of history and influence change. He not only recognized the historic event of his fellow Lincolnites, but also recognized other college students and historical black colleges and universities who played a vital role in history. “You had the S.N.C.C organization, in terms of voting rights and other things, including a lot of participation and working off the bureau,” Newton said. Other schools and places such as UNT, Greenville and Howard University and other historically black schools had groups that came out as leaders. Newton believes that much has changed from 50 years ago. “I think we’ve certainly come a long way from what I’ve seen from the standpoint of growing up outside of Birmingham, Alabama,” Newton said. He believes that college campuses today are more organized in their approach to social causes. “The campus appears to be some more integrated amongst students in terms of organizations and friendships.” Barbara Flint Dr. Barbara Flint grew up in the southern part of Arkansas and came to Lincoln University in 1961. She describes her experience at Lincoln as “being at Lincoln when the world was changing.“ She was an active member of Lincoln’s History Club, which focused on current events and issues and influenced her decision to join the Selma march. “The first idea was to raise some money and then we started talking about ‘why can’t we go?’ I very much wanted to be a living witness in history.” Reflecting on the march and journey to Montgomery, Flint describes it as being filled with tension. “We were very conscious of the fact that once we got on the road past Tennessee we didn’t know what was going to happen,” said Flint during a February 2015 phone interview. “Many of the students had not been beyond Missouri, so they didn’t have that sense of what happens in the South. Having lived there you knew the balance as well as what is likely to happen and what is not likely to happen. As my father use to say, ‘you have to know how to stay on that line of balance.’” Upon arriving in Alabama she remembers the feeling of excitement and relief from everyone on the bus. “We were tired and very happy to be there and we were trying to figure out where we were going to join and get into the march,” Flint said. “There were so many people coming in and then we were also trying to stay together; that was one of the things that really stuck out for me, not just for us but the people who were coming in. You didn’t want to lose sight of the people you came with.” Flint says she was keenly aware of her surroundings. For her, it was more than just marching forward. “I can still hear those helicopters now,” Flint recalled. “Every time the helicopters would come over the sound would make people jump and look up - I think that demonstrated the extent of the tenseness that was there at the time because the helicopters kept coming over every few minutes.” She said that the marchers sang “we are not afraid,” but that fear remained with every step. “Just having been there and being a witness and marching you realize that I’m one of those drops that’s going to make up this flood and with this flood things will move,” said Flint. As a student at Lincoln in 1965, Flint says the Selma experience undoubtedly changed her life. “You can’t expect to do exactly what you came to Lincoln to do,” Flint says. “That march - along with all the other marchers and the action that was taking place - directly changed the paths that I and many other people at Lincoln would take.” She says current students and new generations need to reflect on their personal role in society. “Decide what needs to be done and ask yourself ‘how can I best contribute to it?’” Flint said. She notes technology and social media can be used to reach audiences in ways unavailable to her generation in 1965. “So you don’t always have to wait for someone else to step out there and say ‘let’s march,’ you can express your vision and your views and you have the means to do so (so) others can follow you. Jaci Newsom Jaci Newsom came to Lincoln in 1965 from Atlanta. She came to Lincoln to major in sociology and being in Jefferson City was largely different from what she had grown up with. “To be able to come into a restaurant, sit down and be served a nice meal was eye-opening to me,” said Newsom during a recent interview. She eventually became accustomed to the relaxed attitude of Missouri and was shocked by the situation she encountered on an out-of-town trip. “I took a bus trip from Atlanta to Pensacola and I encountered the worse racism that I have ever seen. I was at bus stop, I went in to be served and they would not serve me. There was a policeman sitting there at the table and he told me that privately owned places could select not to serve you.” Newsom describes her experience of marching in Montgomery as being one with a purpose. “We felt as though we achieved something - we felt a sense of unity,” Newsom said. “We were very excited (because) we were going to hear from Martin Luther King. To actually be in the presence of him and the other civil rights workers there was just such enthusiasm and excitement yet there was also some apprehension of what we might encounter.” Many of the marchers showed their inspiration and determination while pressing forward towards the grounds of the Alabama Capitol building. Newsom recalled that the marchers were singing the lyrics “ain’t gonna let nobody turn me around” and “we shall overcome.” “ I started seeing people just like me,” Newsom said. “I don’t recall any of the scowling, the hitting, the things I would see on TV later. I just saw a sea of humanity marching towards the Capitol. I don’t remember what Martin Luther King said but it was always the same message: keep the faith; we’re going to get where we’re going and let us remember what our purpose is.” Newsom offers advice on what individuals can do to make their society a more productive and peaceful place. “We have come a long way and we have ways to change things that we did not have before,” Newsom said. “You need to work in positive ways to change.” Referencing the recent unrest in Ferguson, Mo., she believes that people become destructive as a way to show and vent anger. Her generation, she says, was raised to react in lawful ways – and believe in hope. “We have faith to do things in a way that was lawful and it makes me sad what people do when they feel without hope, and there is hope,” Newsom says. “Non-violence does work - we need to include everyone to make this world a better place.” Newsom graduated from Lincoln in 1969 and describes her experience at Lincoln as, “I grew up and did more growing at Lincoln than I think I did for the rest of my life.”
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Deadly, inter-ethnic group conflict remains a threat to international security in a world where the majority of armed violence occurs not only within states but in the most ungoverned areas within states. Conflicts that occur between groups living in largely ungoverned areas often become deeply protracted and are difficult to resolve when the state is weak and harsh environmental conditions place human security increasingly under threat. However, even under these conditions, why do some local conflicts between ethnic groups escalate, whereas others do not? To analyze this puzzle, the dissertation employs comparative methods to investigate the conditions under which violence erupts or stops and armed actors choose to preserve peace. The project draws upon qualitative data derived from semi-structured interviews, focus group dialogues, and participant observation of local peace processes during field research conducted in six conflict-affected counties in Northern Kenya. Comparative analysis of fifteen conflict episodes with variable outcomes reveals the conditions under which coalitions of civic associations, including local peace committees, faith-based organizations, and councils of elders, inter alia, enhance informal institutional arrangements that contain escalation. Violence is less likely to escalate in communities where cohesive coalitions provide platforms for threat-monitoring, informal pact making, and enforcement of traditional codes of restitution. However, key scope conditions affect whether or not informal organizational structures are capable of containing escalation. In particular, symbolic acts of violence and the use of indiscriminant force by police and military actors commonly undermine local efforts to contain conflict. The dissertation contributes to the literatures on civil society and peacebuilding, demonstrating the importance of comparing processes of escalation and non-escalation and accounting for interactive effects between modes of state and non-state response to local, inter-ethnic group conflict.
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Any analysis of the prospects for stability and sustainability in the states of Syria and Lebanon reveals the strong ties that exist between these two countries and the impact of external influences on their overall development. Their trajectories, while starkly divergent in terms of the challenges confronting them at present, converge on a path of long-term unsustainability. Lebanon is in the midst of yet another transition phase, triggered by the collapse of Hariri’s government in January 2011. The current situation might be described as one of deteriorating status quo; the state is performing poorly in terms of its delivery of fundamental public services and its institutional legitimacy is tenuous in the face of emerging para-state structures and latent (occasionally active) violence. In Syria, challenges to the sustainability of the state have evolved dramatically since the beginning of 2011, and are now nearing a tipping point. In view of the mounting unrest and violence in the country, the future prospects for its economic and political development are dim. More ominously, the risk of widespread conflict, with sectarian overtones, cannot be discounted.
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The state still matters. However, the members of the Euro-Atlantic community may be misinterpreting this crucial baseline prior launching their military interventions since 2001. The latest violence and collapse of the state of Iraq after the invasion of Northern Iraq by a radical Sunni Muslim terrorist group, so-called Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS), demonstrate once again the centrality and requirement of a functioning state in order to maintain violent forces to disrupt domestic and regional stability. Since 2001, the US and its European allies have waged wars against failed-states in order to increase this security and national interests, and then have been involved in some type of state-building.1 This has been the case in Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, Mali, and Central African Republic (CAR). France went into Mali (2012) and CAR (2013), which preceded two European Union military and civilian Common Security and Defense Policy missions (CSDP), in order to avoid the collapse of these two states. The threat of the collapse of both states was a concern for the members of the Euro-Atlantic community as it could have spread to the region and causing even greater instabilities. In Mali, the country was under radical Islamic pressures coming from the North after the collapse of Libya ensuing the 2011 Western intervention, while in CAR it was mainly an ethno-religious crisis. Failed states are a real concern, as they can rapidly become training grounds for radical groups and permitting all types of smuggling and trafficking.2 In Mali, France wanted to protect its large French population and avoid the fall of Mali in the hands of radical Islamic groups directly or indirectly linked to Al-Qaeda. A fallen Mali could have destabilized the region of the Sahel and ultimately affected the stability of Southern European borders. France wanted to avoid the development of a safe haven across the Sahel where movements of people and goods are uncontrolled and illegal.3 Since the end of the Cold War, Western powers have been involved in stabilizing neighborhoods and regions, like the Balkans, Africa, and Middle East, which at the exceptions of the Balkans, have led to failed policies. 9/11 changes everything. The US, under President George W. Bush, started to wage war against terrorism and all states link to it. This started a period of continuous Western interventions in this post-9/11 era in Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, Mali and CAR. If history has demonstrated one thing, the members of the Euro-Atlantic community are struggling and will continue to struggle to stabilize Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, Mali and Central African Republic (CAR) for one simple reason: no clear endgame. Is it the creation of a state à la Westphalian in order to permit these states to operate as the sole guarantor of security? Or is the reestablishment of status quo in these countries permitting to exit and end Western operations? This article seeks to analyze Western interventions in these five countries in order to reflect on the concept of the state and the erroneous starting point for each intervention.4 In the first part, the political status of each country is analyzed in order to understand the internal and regional crisis. In a second time, the concept of the state, framed into the Buzanian trinity, is discussed and applied to the cases. In the last part the European and American civilian-military doctrines are examined in accordance with their latest military interventions and in their broader spectrum.
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Gennany has recently witnessed a vast increase in anti-foreign violence. Assembling data from a wide variety of recent research, the paper addresses two basic questions: to what extent is the outburst of xenophobic attacks a German peculiarity? and what are the explanations for the mcreasing violence? An analysis of criminal statistics of various European countries and of comparative opinion polls in the European Community shows that Germany has indeed witnessed a growth of anti-foreign sentiment, and a level of violence that is conspicuous from a com parative perspective. Four possible determinants of this peculiarity of recent German history are discussed: (1) the growing ethnic and cultural heterogeneity due to the vast increase in immigration from non-European countries; (2) the increasing costs of foreigners' claims on the German welfare state; (3) the economic context of immigration; and (4) the transformation of national identity in the context of German unification. It is shown that neither the rate of immigration nor the position of foreigners in the German welfare state yields satisfactory explanations for the recent upsurge in violence, which only occurred after unification. The key for an explanation lies in a particular macro-constellation that is characterized by the concurrence of a massive wave of immigration with an economic crisis, and with the ethnicization of German national identity in the context of unification. Anti-foreign sentiments do not automatically follow increases in immigration, but grow in a specific political climate to which the political elites actively contribute.
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"June 2010."
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"July 2006."--Colophon.
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"March 1984."
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"December 14, 1981."
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"September 2006."
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One of the curious things about this challenging book is that its ostensible subject— the Saxon medical and political scientist Hermann Conring (1606–1681)— is not mentioned in the title. Constantin Fasolt argues that we cannot know what Conring really thought or meant in his writings, which means that his topic cannot be Conring as such and must instead be that which occludes our knowledge of him, the titular limits of history. Given that we do in fact learn a good deal about Conring from Fasolt’s book, we can only hope that the decapitation of its subject will be rectified in a subsequent edition, or perhaps by the restorative work of librarians putting together subject headings. And yet Fasolt’s decision is understandable, for Conring is indeed a stalking-horse for a much bigger quarry: historiography and the historical consciousness. By “history” Fasolt understands a way of imposing intelligibility on the world, which is founded on the twin assumptions that the past is gone and unchangeable, and that the meaning of texts can be determined by placing them in their historical contexts (ix). In challenging this mode of intelligibility, Fasolt is not attempting to improve professiona history—it’s already as good as it can be—but to displace it. He regards his work as a declaration of “independence from historical consciousness” (32). At the same time, Fasolt insists that he is not simply jumping from historiography to philosophy, or attempting to preempt history with ontology (37-39). That has been tried by Nietzsche and Heidegger, who have been tainted by Nazism (Fasolt thinks unfairly). It has also been attempted by modern philosophers from Gadamer to Foucault and Charles Taylor who, in failing to address the “violence” that its mode of intelligibility does to the world, have not succeeded in outflanking history. Perhaps, Fasolt wonders, it is only the personal experience of those who have been subject to this violence—the experience of those who have been subject to historical examination—that can break the spell of history. Fasolt’s disclaimer notwithstanding, in the course of these remarks I shall argue that he is indeed jumping from history to philosophy, or attempting to outflank history by subjecting it to a particular metaphysical understanding. I shall do so in part by sketching the recent intellectual history of this move—a historical examination that I hope inflicts as little violence as possible on Fasolt’s argument.