scholarly journals Charles Enrique Dent, 25 August 1911 - 19 September 1976

1978 ◽  
Vol 24 ◽  
pp. 15-31 ◽  

Charles Dent was born in Burgos, Spain, on 25 August 1911. His paternal grandfather, who was a Church of England parson in Coverdale, a Cambridge M.A., and reputed to be a good Greek scholar, died under the age of 40. Charles’s father was Dr Frankland Dent, who studied chemistry in Leeds and, as was not unusual before World War I, went afterwards to Munich to acquire a Ph.D. He then joined the Rio Tinto Mining Company and worked in Spain, where he met his wife and married her in 1903. Charles’s mother was Carmen Colsa de Miray Perceval, who came from a well established Spanish family. She had been orphaned early in her life and was educated in a convent. She died in 1976 only a short time before Charles, in her hundredth year. Soon after his marriage, Dr Frankland Dent accepted a post in Singapore, which at that time was part of the Straits Settlement. Dr Frankland Dent was the government chemist and analyst, responsible for a territory which is now Malaysia and Singapore. The two eldest children were born in Singapore, but Charles’s mother decided to return to Spain for the birth of her third child. After about a year in Burgos, the family returned to Singapore and stayed there until the outbreak of war in 1914. Mrs Dent then decided to come to England with her children, but travelling across the Continent at that time was not easy, and the family spent some time near Marseilles before finally settling in Bedford in 1915, where Charles received his early education. He attended Bedford School for a few years where he did well at games, but showed no particular interest in academic subjects. This worried Charles’s father, and a change of school was considered desirable.

2001 ◽  
Vol 47 ◽  
pp. 203-222 ◽  
Author(s):  
R.M. Laws

Vivian Fuchs's father, Ernst, was German, but he knew virtually nothing of his German forebears. His mother, Violet Watson, was English, but German by marriage. His parents had lived in England since their marriage in 1907 and he was six years old when World War I broke out. Internment of all Germans was ordered and his father was put in a prison camp for aliens on the Isle of Man, and their money and property were confiscated. The family were now very poor but survived on the goodwill of relations; even so he had a happy childhood and did not feel in any way deprived. In 1917 his maternal grandparents died intestate, which led to ‘family strife… much unpleasantness and quite a lot of skullduggery’. His mother inherited half her father's fortune, but as she was an enemy alien it was sequestered by the government and they lived a hand–to–mouth existence for six long years after the war had ended.


2014 ◽  
Vol 46 (4) ◽  
pp. 791-793
Author(s):  
Dina Rizk Khoury

I write this piece as Iraq, following Syria, descends into a civil war that is undermining the post–World War I state system and reconfiguring regional and transnational networks of mobilization and instrumentalizations of violence and identity formation. That the Middle East has come to this moment is not an inevitable product of the artificiality of national borders and the precariousness of the state system. It is important to avoid this linear narrative of inevitability, with its attendant formulations of the Middle East as a repository of a large number of absences, and instead to locate the current wars in a specific historical time: the late and post–Cold War eras, marked by the agendas of the Washington Consensus and the globalization of neoliberal discourses; the privatization of the developmental and welfare state; the institutional devolution and multiplication of security services; and the entrenchment of new forms of colonial violence and rule in Israel and Palestine and on a global scale. The conveners of this roundtable have asked us to reflect on the technopolitics of war in the context of this particular moment and in light of the pervasiveness of new governmentalities of war. What I will do in this short piece is reflect on the heuristic and methodological possibilities of the study of war as a form of governance, or what I call the “government of war,” in light of my own research and writing on Iraq.


2021 ◽  
Vol 20 (2) ◽  
pp. 216-235
Author(s):  
Olga S. Porshneva

This article examines how the historical memory of World War I emerged and developed in Russia, and also compares it to how Europeans have thought about the conflict. The author argues that the politics of memory differed during the Soviet and post-Soviet periods. In the wake of the 1917 Revolution, Bolshevik efforts to re-format the memory of the Great War were part of its attempt to create a new society and new man. At the same time, the regime used it to mobilize society for the impending conflict with the 'imperialist' powers. The key actors that sought to inculcate the notion of the war with imperialism into Soviet mass consciousness were the Central Committee of the Bolshevik Communist Party, the Department of Agitation and Propaganda, and, in particular, the Red Army and Comintern. The latter two worked together to organize the major campaigns dedicated to war anniversaries, which were important both to reinforce the concept of imperialist war as well as to involve the masses in public commemorations, rituals and practices. The Soviet state also relied on organizations of war veterans to promote such commemorative practices while suppressing any alternative narratives. The article goes on to explain how, under Stalin, the government began to change the way it portrayed the Great War in the mid-1930s. And after the Second World War, Soviet politics of memory differed greatly from those in the West. In the USSR the Great Patriotic War was sacralized, while the earlier conflict remained a symbol of unjust imperialist wars.


Author(s):  
Adam Paulsen

This article compares representations of war in Walter Flex’ The Wanderer between Two Worlds (1916), Ernst Jünger’s Storm of Steel (1920), and Erich Maria Remarque’s All Quiet on the Western Front (1929). It shows the extent to which these representations are shaped by political and ideological convictions. The difference between the romantic idealism of Flex and Jünger’s “soldierly nationalism”,which he proposed as a model for the time to come, reflects a major shift during World War I itself. By contrast, neither past nor future seem to be of any use in Remarque’s famous antiwar novel, in which the war generation surprisingly is described as having nothing else to live for beyond the present, i.e. beyond war. Finally, the article suggests how these different representations of war each, in their own way, contributed to the aesthetics and ideology of fascism.


2019 ◽  
pp. 97-114
Author(s):  
Jeffrey Magee

Irving Berlin’s all-soldier World War I revue, Yip Yip Yaphank, made a unique impact on Broadway in 1918 and in Berlin’s work for decades to come. The show forged a compelling and comic connection between theatrical conventions and military protocols, using elements from minstrelsy, the Ziegfeld Follies, and Berlin’s distinctive songs. Featuring such Berlin standards as “Sterling Silver Moon” (later revised as “Mandy”) and “Oh! How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning,” it was revised for World War II as This Is the Army, and scenes from it reappear, transformed, in Berlin’s films Alexander’s Ragtime Band and White Christmas.


Author(s):  
Patrick Warfield

World War I gave John Philip Sousa, always an astute businessman, several opportunities to reshape his image and rebuild his career. Sousa embraced first neutrality, and then preparedness, notably in championing “Wake Up, America” during his residency at New York’s Hippodrome. When the country entered the war, Sousa was acclaimed for his quintessential patriotism, and he enlisted in the Naval Reserve to train bandsmen at the Great Lakes Training Station. He even changed his appearance, shaving off his celebrated beard; and he joined in anti-German jingoism, writing a wedding march as a substitute for Wagner and Mendelssohn. By war’s end, he had recaptured the public imagination and rebuilt his legend for the years to come.


2018 ◽  
pp. 198-238
Author(s):  
Richard T. Hughes

While the myth of the Innocent Nation weaves a tale that is objectively false with no redemptive qualities, it is one of the strongest of the American myths in terms of its hold over the American people. That myth, like the nation itself, hangs suspended between the golden age of an innocent past (Nature’s Nation) and a golden age of innocence yet to come (Millennial Nation). Suspended in that vacuous state, Americans imagine that history is irrelevant. How could it be otherwise? Nothing destroys a sense of innocence like the terrors of history taken seriously. Anchored by the pillars that stand at the beginning and end of time, the myth of the Innocent Nation flourished during every modern conflict beginning with World War I, but especially when the nation faced enemies like Nazi Germany in World War II or Isis during the War on Terror. The irony was obvious, for even as the nation proclaimed its innocence, black soldiers, for example, returned from World War II only to face brutality and segregation in their own nation. Countless blacks from Muhammed Ali to Toni Morrison to James Baldwin to Ta-Nehisi Coates have protested that irony in the American myth of Innocence.


Polar Record ◽  
2004 ◽  
Vol 40 (1) ◽  
pp. 31-38 ◽  
Author(s):  
Kjell-G. Kjaer ◽  
Hilary Foxworthy

The steam barque Danmark, used on Ludvig Mylius-Erichsen's expedition to northeast Greenland (1906–08), was originally a Scottish whaler named Sir Colin Campbell, built in 1855 in Sunderland. After nine years of whaling out of Peterhead, in 1865 Sir Colin Campbell started the transportation of cryolite from the mines of Ivigtut in southwest Greenland to the United States and several European ports. This trade lasted for 103 years, until 1968. In the early 1870s, the ship was sold to Norwegian owners, renamed Magdalena, fitted with a steam-engine, and used as part of the Tønsberg sealing fleet. In 1894 she was the ship in which Roald Amundsen made his first voyage to the Arctic. In 1905 Magdalena was chartered by the estate of William Ziegler for a relief expedition to Bass Rock, northeast Greenland, to search for members of the Fiala-Ziegler expedition. The next year she was sold to the Danmark-Expedition and renamed Danmark. The main task for the expedition was to survey the coast from 77°N to Independence Bay, an area that was completely unknown. In addition to geographical exploration, much ethnographical, ornithological, zoological, hydrographical, meteorological, and botanical work was carried out on the expedition. In 1909, Danmark was sold to the mining company Grønlandske Minedrifts Aktieselskab of Copenhagen. She made voyages every year to Greenland, returning with copper and graphite. In 1916 she was chartered by the American Museum of Natural History to bring home the members of the Crocker Land Expedition. When in December 1917 she returned to Denmark, her captain did not know that, in their two years' absence, the coastal signals had been changed due to conditions in World War I. Danmark grounded off Høganes, Sweden; condemned, she was sold to a breaker's yard, and her masts, sails, engine, and other fittings were sold at auction the following year.


1982 ◽  
Vol 28 ◽  
pp. 479-504

Robert Allan Smith, always known as Robin to his close associates, was born on 14 May 1909 in Kelso, Roxburghshire. Professionally, during Robin’s time first names were rarely used except between close friends. Surnames were in common usage except for Smiths, Joneses, etc., who had to be distinguished. Hence, he was often called ‘R.A.’. The combination of charm and determination, characteristic of a Borderer, was always present with Robin. He was the elder brother to (William) Allan, in the family of two, born to George J. T. Smith, tailor, a native of Kelso, and his wife, Elisabeth( née Allan), a ladies’ dressmaker and native of Eccles village, Kelso. The family ancestry was mainly in farming and business. His childhood was spent in the country in and around Kelso together with his primary and secondary schooling. On the outbreak of World War I, his father, who was a member of the Territorial Army, was called up, and his mother, Robin and Allan moved to Heeton Village near Kelso to stay with relations. A strong bond was formed between Robin and his uncle and aunts which endured throughout their life. Robin’s first school was therefore Heeton Village School where he spent a year before the family returned to Kelso. There after schooling continued at Kelso Infant School, Kelso Public School, and a Bursary to Kelso High School gave him the opportunity to go forward to higher education.


Author(s):  
Rogério Arthmar ◽  
Michael McLure

This study reflects on Arthur Cecil Pigou’s role in public debate during the initial phase of the First World War over whether Britain should negotiate a peace treaty with Germany. Its main goal is to provide evidence that the “Cambridge Professor” framed his approach to this highly controversial issue from theoretical propositions on trade, industrial peace, and welfare that he had developed in previous works. After reviewing his contributions on these subjects, Pigou’s letter to The Nation in early 1915, suggesting an open move by the Allies towards an honorable peace with Germany, is presented along with his more elaborate thoughts on this same theme put down in a private manuscript. The negative reactions to Pigou’s letter are then scrutinized, particularly the fierce editorial published by The Morning Post. A subsequent version of Pigou’s plea for peace, delivered in his London speech late in 1915, is detailed, listing the essential conditions for a successful conclusion of the conflict. To come full circle, the paper recapitulates Pigou’s postwar considerations on diplomacy, free trade, and colonialism. The concluding remarks bring together the theoretical and applied branches of Pigou’s thoughts on war and peace.


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