This article discusses the experiences of Western European companies during China's opening to Western trade and investment in the late 1970s and 1980s. While much has been written about the Chinese policies that led to the introduction of capitalist measures in China, the experiences of European companies have not been covered in detail so far. Using records from several Swiss company archives as well as additional Chinese and Swiss archives and oral history interviews with business representatives and diplomats who were in China during this period, the article analyzes the Swiss experiences in China to discuss how and why European companies tried - and often failed - to take advantage of China's opening, and how European governments and business organizations tried to assist companies in China. It shows how cultural ignorance, international competition, bilateral political and economic relations, the Chinese Communist Party's control over the economy, Chinese industrial espionage and China's lack of knowledge of capitalist terminology and processes affected European attempts to set up shop in China.

This article examines the ambivalence of the Soviet authorities' attitude to and policy toward Soviet Muslims in the 1970s and 1980s. Soviet Muslims were an asset for Soviet foreign policy in Muslim countries, serving as KGB operatives and as diplomats in the Middle East, Iran, South Asia, and Afghanistan and proved generally loyal to the Soviet state. However, some Soviet officials, notably in the KGB, did not fully trust Soviet Muslims. They kept them in junior positions abroad, suspected them of foreign sympathies, and continued to monitor their activities at home. This dichotomy was incarnated in Soviet Muslim border regions such as Azerbaijan. Azerbaijanis were key to Soviet intelligence operations in Iran, but the KGB suspected them of sympathies for the Iranian Islamic Revolution. Some Soviet Muslims, including those in Azerbaijan, did root their opposition to the Soviet state in Islam.

It is widely believed that banks in Switzerland keep their hoards of gold safely in vaults in the city, but during the Second World War, the banks discovered a more efficient, secure, and spacious place for their gold: the Alps. Using built objects as evidence, this article describes how, in 1939, a military ammunition depot in the Bernese Alps was converted into a mountain vault, for the Swiss National Bank to store its domestic gold reserves. What started as an evacuation site, along the way changed purpose from protection against the enemy to catering to them. As the gold reserves of the National Bank grew, its vaults in Bern and Zurich were no longer large enough to store all the incoming precious metals. Only by its decentralization to the Alps could Switzerland keep up the gold trade with, amongst others, Nazi Germany. Based on extensive research in the Swiss National Bank's archives, the article discloses, for the first time, evidence of the wide-ranging infrastructures and bureaucracies that facilitated the storage of gold in the Alps - a history that until today has been dominated by popular myths rather than critical historical inquiry.

Since the 1980s, some commercial airline pilots and flight crews in the United States, United Kingdom and Australia began to report an illness they believed was caused by exposure to contaminated cabin air. Despite a body of scientific research and health activism calling for this condition, termed Aerotoxic Syndrome (AS), to be classified an occupational illness, it has not been accepted as a clinical entity because its causation remains contested. This article contends that debates over the recognition of AS have been shaped by the politics of science and what can be considered evidence of a causal link; the burden of proof lay with survivors and their allies rather than with airlines and manufacturers. The history of AS shows the challenges of reacting to health risks in a global industry that provides an important form of transportation, and enjoys considerable political and economic influence. It also reveals that at the heart of commercial jet air travel remains an unresolved public health issue, and those who claim to be suffering from AS expected prompt recognition, reform and assistance in light of scientific research and personal testimony, as well as a range of chemical, medical, legal and air safety reports.

This article explores the early years of the campaign for 'ordinary', not politically-aligned, prisoners' rights in Ireland. It argues that this campaign has often been overshadowed by the activities of 'political prisoners', who only constituted a small minority of prisoners in the period. The article follows the development and changing tactics of the ordinary prisoners' movement, through the rise and fall of the Prisoners' Union (PU) (1972-3) and into the early years of the Prisoners' Rights Organisation (PRO) (1973-6), which would become the longest-lasting and most vocal penal reform organisation in Ireland, until the formation of the Irish Penal Reform Trust in 1994. It argues that the movement constantly adapted its tactics to address emerging issues and opportunities. Ultimately, it contends that by 1976 the PRO was an increasingly legitimate voice in Ireland's public discourse on prisons. It shows that, although the campaign did not achieve any major penal reforms in this period, it had a significant impact on public debates about prisons, prisoners' mental health, the failures of the penal system, and prisoners' entitlement to human rights.

Cinema had long been hailed by Bolshevik party leaders as a crucial ally of the Soviet mass enlightenment project. By the mid-1920s, however, Soviet psychologists, educators and practitioners of 'child science' (pedology) were pointing to the grave effects that the consumption of commercial cinema was exerting on the physical, mental and moral health of Soviet young people. Diagnosing an epidemic of 'film mania', specialists battled to curtail the NEP-era practices of film production and demonstration that had rendered cinema 'toxic' to children. Campaigns to 'healthify' Soviet cinema, first manifesting in the organization of child-friendly screenings and forms of 'cultural enlightenment work', soon extended to attempts to develop a new children's film repertoire based on the results of psycho-physiological viewer studies. A vast variety of pedological research institutions established during the late 1920s and early 1930s began to experimentally test cinema's effects on children with the view of assisting the production of films that could cultivate a sound mind and body. Tracing a link between the findings of pedological viewer studies and the 'healthy' cinema championed in the 1930s, this article sheds light on the vital role played by medical and scientific expertise in shaping Stalinist culture.

What are the consequences of a culture of victory in countries undergoing new state formation and democratic transition? In this article, we examine 'foundational legitimacy,' or a hegemonic narrative about the way in which a new state was created, and the role particular groups played in its creation. We argue that the way in which victory is institutionalized can pose a grave threat to the democratic project. If reconciliation and democratization depend of integrating losers into the new order and recognizing plural narratives of state formation, then exclusivist narratives based on foundational legitimacy pose a direct challenge to both. We focus on two Yugoslav successor states, Kosovo and Croatia. For both cases, we trace how appeals to 'foundational legitimacy' by groups that claim a leading role in the struggle for independence fostered a politics of exclusion, which ran counter to both the spirit of democracy. In Croatia, foundational legitimacy was partly challenged after 2000 by reformist political forces, though more recently it has re-appeared in political life. In Kosovo, foundational legitimacy was never successfully challenged and continues to shape political dynamics to the present day.

Understandably, research has focused overwhelmingly on Jews in the camps of the Holocaust. But the nazis had been detaining Jews in concentration camps ever since 1933, at times in large numbers. Who were these prisoners? This article analyzes nazi policies that brought Jews into the concentration camps. It ventures into the inner structure and dynamics of one of the most heterogeneous groups of concentration camp inmates. By contrasting the perpetrators' objectives with the victims' experiences, this article will illuminate the role of the concentration camp as the ultimate means of pressure in the fatal process of turning a minority group into an outsider group: that is, the act of defining and marking the enemy which was the critical stage before the destruction of European Jewry. Furthermore, it will examine Jewish reactions to SS terror inside the camps.

This article investigates music in the concentration camps before the second world war. For the camp authorities, ordering prisoners to sing songs or play in orchestras was an instrument of domination. But for the prisoners, music could also be an expression of solidarity and survival: inmates could retain a degree of their own agency in the pre-war camps, despite the often unbearable living conditions and harsh treatment by guards. The present article emphasizes this ambiguity of music in the early camps. It illustrates the emergence of musical traditions in the pre-war camps which came to have a significant impact on everyday life in the camps. It helps to overcome the view that concentration camp prisoners were simply passive victims.

This article juxtaposes three types of illegitimate motherhood that came in the wake of the Second World War in Nazi Germany. The first found institutional support in the Lebensborn project, an elite effort to raise the flagging birth-rates, which at the same time turned a new page in the history of sexuality. The second came before the lower courts in the form of paternity and guardianship suits that had a long precedent, and the third was a social practice that the regime considered a ‘mass crime' among its female citizenry: namely, forbidden unions between German women and prisoners of war. Through these cases the article addresses issues such as morality, sexuality, paternity, citizenship and welfarism. The flesh-and-blood stories have been culled from the Lebensborn Dossiers and Special Court files, as well as cases from the lower courts.

This article discusses how the relationship between parents and their children were affected by the second world war in Germany. With fathers away from home for often as long as a decade, many children grew up without a father being physically present. The current historiography suggests that wartime separation caused a crisis in the family. But did the prolonged periods of time apart and the separate experiences of husbands at the Front and wives and children at home really destabilize family relationships? This article questions such a picture of families in ruin. It argues that family relationships were far more resilient in the face of wartime separation than has previously been credited. Indeed, it reveals the importance of children in keeping mothers and fathers focused on getting through the war. It further contends that, even from afar, fathers continued to play an important role in their children’s lives. And this in turn revises our understanding of the situation facing reuniting families.

This article uses prostitutes as a case study in order to investigate the role of the early concentration camps as centres of detention for social deviants. In contrasting the intensification of repressive policies towards prostitutes against narratives which demonstrate the unexpectedly lax treatment of these women, it explores what the reasons behind these contradictions might have been, and what this demonstrates about the development of these institutions. It asks the following questions. How and why were prostitutes interned? Which bureaucrats were responsible for incarcerating these women and what did they view the role of the camp to be? Were such policies centrally directed or the product of local decision-making? Through asking these questions, the article explores to what extent these camps were unique as mechanisms for the repression and marginalization of prostitutes.

Too often histories of the concentration camps tend to be ignorant of the wider political context of nazi repression and control. This article tries to overcome this problem. Combining legal, social and political history, it contributes to a more thorough understanding of the changing relationship between the camps as places of extra-legal terror and the judiciary, between nazi terror and the law. It argues that the conflict between the judiciary and the SS was not a conflict between "good" and "evil," as existing accounts claim. Rather, it was a power struggle for jurisdiction over the camps. Concentration camp authorities covered up the murders of prisoners as suicides to prevent judicial investigations. This article also looks at actual suicides in the pre-war camps, to highlight individual inmates' reactions to life within the camps. The article concludes that the history of the concentration camps needs to be firmly integrated into the history of nazi terror and the Third Reich.