Emanzipation und Recht

2021 ◽  

In the course of Jewish emancipation in Germany from the 18th century to World War I, many Jewish students chose to study law. The subject offered access to diverse fields of activity, and it contained a liberal promise of equality. However, this promise was fulfilled only slowly until 1914 and was broken by National Socialist Germany. But as long as the prospect of emancipation still seemed realistic, some branches of jurisprudence proved particularly attractive, such as Roman legal history, legal theory and comparative law, commercial and international business law, and, not least, the new labor and social law. The contributions in this volume, the result of a conference at the Forschungskolleg Humanwissenschaften in Bad Homburg in May 2019, attempt to explore the reasons for these preferences.

Author(s):  
Douglas M. Johnston

There has never been a Scottish school of international law. The concept of a “school” might, of course, be accorded a number of different meanings, but in any official sense the Scottish nation was never in a position to adopt a distinctive approach to international law. The union of the Scottish and English crowns (1603) and legislatures (1707) curtailed the opportunity for Scottish customs to be put forward as the evidence of national state practice. Moreover, it is difficult to show a critical mass of Scottish contributions to the subject, sufficient to form the basis for a national school of international legal theory. Indeed, in the 300 years up to World War I Scotland produced only a handful of significant contributions to the literature of international law: pre-eminently, William Welwood (1578-1622), William Scott (1674-1725), Sir James Mackintosh (1765-1832), James Reddie (1773-1852), James Lorimer (1818-90) , Viscount Finlay of Nairn (1842-1929) , Arthur Berriedale Keith (1879-1944), and Thomas W. Fulton ( 1855-1929).


Author(s):  
Brent A. R. Hege

AbstractAs dialectical theology rose to prominence in the years following World War I, the new theologians sought to distance themselves from liberalism in a number of ways, an important one being a rejection of Schleiermacher’s methods and conclusions. In reading the history of Weimar-era theology as it has been written in the twentieth century one would be forgiven for assuming that Schleiermacher found no defenders during this time, as liberal theology quietly faded into the twilight. However, a closer examination of this period reveals a different story. The last generation of liberal theologians consistently appealed to Schleiermacher for support and inspiration, perhaps none more so than Georg Wobbermin, whom B. A. Gerrish has called a “captain of the liberal rearguard.” Wobbermin sought to construct a religio-psychological method on the basis of Schleiermacher’s definition of religion and on his “Copernican turn” toward the subject and resolutely defended such a method against the new dialectical theology long after liberal theology’s supposed demise. A consideration of Wobbermin’s appeals to Schleiermacher in his defense of the liberal program reveals a more complex picture of the state of theology in the Weimar period and of Schleiermacher’s legacy in German Protestant thought.


1996 ◽  
Vol 24 (3) ◽  
pp. 371-376
Author(s):  
Andrew Ludanyi

The fate of Hungarian minorities in East Central Europe has been one of the most neglected subjects in the Western scholarly world. For the past fifty years the subject—at least prior to the late 1980s—was taboo in the successor states (except Yugoslavia), while in Hungary itself relatively few scholars dared to publish anything about this issue till the early 1980s. In the West, it was just not faddish, since most East European and Russian Area studies centers at American, French and English universities tended to think of the territorial status quo as “politically correct.” The Hungarian minorities, on the other hand, were a frustrating reminder that indeed the Entente after World War I, and the Allies after World War II, made major mistakes and significantly contributed to the pain and anguish of the peoples living in this region of the “shatter zone.”


Author(s):  
Julie Hubbert

Much has been said about the Nazi appropriation of Wagner’s music in the 1930s and 1940s. As early as 1933, Hitler transformed the Bayreuth Festival into a celebration of National Socialist ideology and propagated miniature Wagner festivals to celebrate his own birthday. Wagner’s music also resounded throughout the culture and media at large. What has been less understood and examined, however, is how this same music was also used in nonnarrative films, newsreels, government documentaries, and industrial and advertising films of the period. Here the appropriation of Wagner is more complex and problematic. Master Hands (1936), the critically acclaimed, feature-length industrial film sponsored by the American car company Chevrolet, is an excellent example. As several film scholars have observed, the film is an artistic advertisement for the American automobile industry that borrows heavily from Riefenstahl’s Triumph of the Will. But the film’s score, a compilation full of Wagner excerpts, arranged by composer Samuel Benavie and performed by the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, about which almost nothing has been said, is equally propagandistic. By examining the music for this industrial advertisement for Chevrolet, this chapter not only re-examines the reception of Wagner in the United States between the World War I and World War II but also examines the integral role his music played in the creation of American films of persuasion. It explores the use U.S. industrial filmmakers made of Wagner’s music as an audible signifier not for German fascism but to advertise for American democracy, industry, and capitalism.


2021 ◽  
Vol 20 (3) ◽  
pp. 21-40
Author(s):  
Katarzyna Zielińska ◽  

The aim of the study is an attempt to refer to the historiography of a small microregion at the border of today's provinces: Lubuskie and Wielkopolskie, called "Babimojszczyzna". The time perspective relating to the events of World War I, Polish-German disputes, as well as the transformations in Poland and Germany after 1989 requires a new approach to historical narratives. The thesis of the article is the assumption that the hitherto historiography of this complex microregion in Polish-German relations in the first half of the 20th century did not develop new approaches. Another problem is the lack of real effects under the research models on the Polish and German narratives of the last thirty years. Their lack is particularly noticed in the context of the condition of social memory in the vicinity of Babimost, where only the tradition of the Polish Uprising 1918-1919 and the struggle for Polishness is cultivated, without a broader context. The discussed region can also be an interesting example for other similar historical areas, which, like all borderlands, were the subject of natural osmosis rather than their contact.


2018 ◽  
Vol 60 (1) ◽  
pp. 515-538
Author(s):  
Severin Meier

Social Darwinism as a utopian project had a decisive influence on the interpretation of the ius ad bellum before World War I. This contribution tries, among others, to draw parallels to the way today’s utopian visions of democracy and the rule of law affect international law. Approaches to legal interpretation influenced by critical legal theory are used to explain how such extra-legal considerations can play a role in the interpretation of international legal norms. Such approaches maintain that international law cannot be objective, i.e. simultaneously based on State consent and on extra-consensual standards. The article further asks how international law should be understood if it cannot be objective. In other words, it discusses the practical consequences if international law has to rely on extra-legal considerations, such as the belief in Social Darwinism or the desire to spread democracy, in order to reach solutions to legal problems. It is argued that upholding the belief in international law’s objectivity is preferable to its alternatives.


Author(s):  
Monika Kamińska

The parish churches in Igołomia and Wawrzeńczyce were founded in the Middle Ages. Their current appearance is the result of centuries of change. Wawrzeńczyce was an ecclesial property – first of Wrocław Premonstratens, and then, until the end of the 18th century, of Kraków bishops. The Church of St. Mary Magdalene was funded by the Bishop Iwo Odrowąż. In 1393 it was visited by the royal couple Jadwiga of Poland and Władysław Jagiełło. In the 17th century the temple suffered from the Swedish Invasion, and then a fire. The church was also damaged during World War I in 1914. The current furnishing of the church was created to a large extent after World War II. Igołomia was once partly owned by the Benedictines of Tyniec, and partly belonged to the Collegiate Church of St. Florian in Kleparz in Kraków. The first mention of the parish church of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary comes from the first quarter of the fourteenth century. In 1384, a brick church was erected in place of a wooden one. The history of the Igołomia church is known only from the second half of the 18th century, as it was renovated and enlarged in 1869. The destruction after World War I initiated interior renovation work, continuing until the 1920s.


2019 ◽  
pp. 38-59
Author(s):  
Harlow Robinson

The subject of this chapter is the Oscar-winning film All Quiet on the Western Front. After discussion of why the Laemmle family’s Universal Studios wanted to make film of Erich Maria Remarque’s celebrated novel, the chapter considers the screenplay adaptation, casting of Lew Ayres in leading role, the revolutionary sound design, influence of Sergei Eisenstein’s montage technique, reception and political reaction to the film in the United States, and changing attitudes towards World War I. The final section focuses on the hostile reception of the film in Germany, where it was used by the Nazi leaders, especially Joseph Goebbels, for propaganda purposes, and how the film’s global renown changed Milestone’s life.


1991 ◽  
Vol 23 (4) ◽  
pp. 549-576 ◽  
Author(s):  
Vahakn N. Dadrian

The deportation of the majority of the Armenian population from the Ottoman Empire during World War I and the massacres that accompanied it are of commanding interest. The paucity of scholarly contributions in this area, however, has impeded the development of interest in the subject, thereby contributing to the nebulous state surrounding the conditions that led to the disappearance of an entire nation from its ancestral territories. Some maintain that this nebulousness is compounded by the intrusion of political calculation.1 At issue is whether or not the disaster was intentionally organized by the Ottoman authorities, and whether or not the scope of Armenian losses bore any relationship to that intention.


Prospects ◽  
2005 ◽  
Vol 30 ◽  
pp. 505-517
Author(s):  
Emily Wright

In Tell About the South: The Southern Rage to Explain, eminent southernist Y(stet)Fred Hobson argues that since the early 19th century, southern discourse has been dominated by a desire to explain the South to a nation critical of its practices. This “rage to explain” was particularly apparent in the era known as the Southern Renaissance — the period roughly between World War I and World War II that saw a flowering of southern letters and intellectual life. During this period, southern poets, novelists, essayists, historians, and sociologists participated in a comprehensive enactment of the southern “rage to explain” the South, both to itself and to the rest of the world. Within this outbreak of explanation, a significant pattern emerges: a pattern of resistance to what I shall call the myth of a two-class white South.Throughout American history, northerners and southerners alike have colluded to create the impression that the antebellum white South consisted of only two classes: aristocratic planters on one extreme and debased poor whites on the other. This impression was initiated in the 18th century, when William Byrd's histories of the dividing line introduced the image of the poor white in the form of the laughable “Lubberlander.” The stereotype of the comic and/or degraded poor white can be traced from Byrd through George Washington Harris's tales of Sut Lovingood (1867) to William Alexander Percy's diatribes against poor whites in Lantern on the Levee (1941) and William Faulkner's unflattering portrayal of the Snopeses (1940–59). Meanwhile, the images of the courteous, kindly planter and of the plantation as pastoral idyll can be traced from John Pendleton Kennedy's Swallow Barn (1832) through the postbellum plantation fiction of Thomas Nelson Page to Stark Young's Civil War romance, So Red the Rose (1934).


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