Journal articles on the topic 'Rome – History – German occupation, 1940-1945'

The article deals with the phenomenon of the Danish economic collaboration during the German occupation of Denmark in 1940—1945. The occupation of Denmark is a unique case among other occupied European countries such as France, Belgium and the Netherlands during the Second World War where Germany openly pursued the policy of economic exploitation and introduced strict rationing practices. The peculiar “soft” conduct of the Danish occupation is mainly attributed to the special role Denmark’s agricultural exports played in the German war economy. Under the occupation the efficient system of production and food consumption control was devised in Denmark which met the interests and needs of both the Danish population and Germany’s economy. The article highlights the specific mechanisms of economic coordination between Denmark and the German occupation authorities within industry and agriculture, and reveals Denmark’s role in the German military and economic plans.

The Allied defeat of the German Wehrmacht in May 1945 brought the military struggle against fascism in Europe to an end. Yet with the occupation of Germany the struggle against fascism was to continue on other fronts. Germany was to be “demilitarized,” the economy “decartelized,” and the society “denazified. ” Ultimately Germany was to be “democratized.” The newly established media were to play a major role in the transformation of German attitudes, in this attempt to “reeducate” the Germans.

AbstractOver the course of the German occupation of the British Channel Islands from 1940 to 1945, a number of letters of denunciation were sent by islanders to the German authorities, accusing fellow islanders of violations of occupation law or of anti-German activity of one sort or another. The German occupiers were ambivalent toward the denunciations. While recognizing their usefulness in maintaining order and the respect for German rule, they found both the letters and their writers distasteful. The local British authorities in Jersey and Guernsey also found the letters problematic; the consequences for the individuals targeted in the letters could be dire, and the impact on island society as a whole was significant, both during the occupation and beyond liberation in May 1945. The extent and nature of resistance and collaboration have been contentious issues in the historiography of the occupation of the Channel Islands, and these letters have been cited as evidence that islanders were unduly cooperative with the Nazis. This article examines the surviving letters of denunciation, and by placing them into the wider contexts of Nazi Europe and the historiography of denunciation in totalitarian states, argues that denunciation in the Channel Islands, far from being exceptional, was quite typical of the practice throughout the Nazi empire.

The subject of this study is the activity of the Belarusians in the General Government in 1940–1945. Belarusians were the fifth largest ethnic group in the GG. The German occupation authorities, applying the principle of “divide and conquer”, were ready to give Belarusians some freedom in the sphere of culture, religion and economy. In 1940, the Belarusian Committee was established in Warsaw, with branches in Biała Podlaska and Kraków. The majority of committee members were Belarusians and Poles – prisoners of war and refugees from the Soviet occupation zone of Poland. As a priority of this organization, cultural, educational and religious activities among the Belarusians in the General Government were recognized. The activists of the committee managed to create a school in Warsaw and two parishes (Orthodox and Catholic). Belarusian activities faced some difficulties. Serious problems for the Belarusians Committee caused the activities of Ukrainian organizations in the GG. One of the episodes in the history of the Belarusian Committee is the cooperation of its activists with German military intelligence.

This article examines the contested presence of Vichy administrators in high positions of the French administration of occupied Germany after the Second World War. In occupied Germany, where many of Pétain’s officials pursued their careers, resisters and collaborators negotiated their new positions in the wake of the German occupation of France. Key to understanding this settlement are the notions of expertise and merit as well as the role of the inherited French social order untouched by the collaboration.

This article provides a detailed analysis of the individuals who enrolled in Vichy fighting units at the end of the German occupation. Those groups were mostly created in late 1943 and early 1944, and acted as effective subsidiaries to German troops, treating civilians and partisans with extreme violence. The enrolment of those men was a consequence of their political beliefs, notably strong anti-communism. But the fact that their behaviour seems born of desperation (some were recruited after D-Day) is a hint that it was shaped according to other cultural patterns, especially an image of masculinity rooted in the memory of the First World War and developed, among others, according to fascist and Nazi ideologies: a manhood based on strength, the violence of warfare and the image of the soldier. This article provides an analysis based on judiciary documents from the time of the purge, with a careful reconstruction of personal trajectories and self discourse in order to understand the masculine identity these sometimes very young men tried to realise through political engagement in the guise of warriors.

Gary Bruce's volume in the Harvard Cold War Studies Book Series, Resistance with the People: Repression and Resistance in Eastern Germany, 1945–1955, provides an overview of the East German state security apparatus (Stasi) from the mid-1940s, when secret police organs were set up in eastern Germany by the Soviet occupation forces, through the mid-1950s, when the size of the Stasi sharply increased, allowing it to become a massive surveillance and repressive apparatus. Bruce examines the origins of the Stasi, the role of the state security organs in the outbreak and suppression of the East German uprising of June 1953, and the subsequent evolution of the Stasi under Walter Ulbricht, who removed his rivals from the state security apparatus and then reestablished it as a separate ministry responsible for “combatting all internal and external enemies” of the Communist regime. Two prominent experts on East German history offer their perspectives on Bruce's book and the role of popular resistance under Communist rule.

Robert Gildea, Marianne in Chains – In Search of the German Occupation, 1940–1945 (Henry Holt: New York, 2002) 524 pp., £20.00 (hb), ISBN 0-33-378230-5.Michael Curtis, Verdict on Vichy: Power and Prejudice in the Vichy France Regime (Arcade Publishing: New York, 2003) 419 pp., $27.95 (hb), ISBN: 1-55-970689-9.Julian Jackson, France: The Dark Years, 1940–1944 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 690 pp., £12.99 (pb), ISBN 0-19-925457-5.Andrew Shennan, The Fall of France, 1940 (Harlow: Longman, 2000), 181 pp., $22.99 (pb), ISBN 0-582-29081-3.Henry Rousso, The Haunting Past. History, Memory, and Justice in Contemporary France (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002), 136 pp., $29.95 (hb), ISBN 0-8122-3645-9.

AbstractThis article examines the origins, implementation and results of salvage drives carried out in wartime France from 1939 to 1945. In post-war accounts – including memoirs and local histories of the occupation – these salvage drives were understood simply as wartime frugality, a logical response to wide-spread shortages. Yet a careful study of the records of both the French Ministry of Armaments and Vichy's Service de la Récupération et de l'Utilisation des Déchets et Vieilles Matières combined with municipal and departmental sources reveals that these salvage drives were heavily influenced by Nazi German practices. From 1939 to 1940, even though French propaganda had previously ridiculed Nazi German salvage drives as proof of economic weakness, officials at the Ministry of Armaments emulated Nazi Germany by carrying out salvage drives of scrap iron and paper. After the fall of France, this emulation became collaboration. Vichy's salvage efforts were a conjoint Franco-German initiative, organised at the very highest levels of the occupation administration. Drawing on the experience of Nazi German salvage experts, Vichy officials carried out the salvage drives according to German models. Nevertheless, they carefully hid the German origins of the campaign from the chain of departmental prefects, mayors, Chambers of Commerce and youth leaders who organised the local drives and solicited participation by evoking French patriotic sentiment. After the liberation of France in 1944, the French Provisional Government renamed but otherwise maintained the Vichy-created salvage organisations and continued to oversee the collection of scrap iron, paper, rags, glass and bones until 1946. At that point, the government largely relinquished control of the salvage industry.

Louis de Jong, who died on 15 March 2005, held a unique position as the official historian for the Netherlands during the Second World War. As head of the Rijksinstituut voor Oorlogsdocumentatie (RIOD), de Jong effectively came to dictate the research agenda on his country’s recent history for more than forty years after the conflict was over. For the Dutch, his name was synonymous not only with RIOD but also with the history of the German occupation from May 1940 to the final liberation in May 1945.

This article compares Italian and German memory cultures of Fascism and Nazism using an analysis of Italian and West- and East-German satirical magazines published from 1943 to 1963. In the early post-war period, as a consequence of the anti-Fascist and anti-Nazi policies in Italy and in Germany that had been put into effect by the Allied occupation authorities, a significant part of the Italian and German public felt anxiety regarding the Fascist and the Nazi past and feared these past regimes as potential sources of contamination. But many, both in Italy and Germany, also reacted by denying that their country needed any sort of ‘purification’. This article’s main argument is that the interaction between these two conflicting positions exercised different effects in the three contexts considered. In Italy, especially during the years after 1948, the satirical press produced images that either rendered Fascism banal or praised it, representing it as a phenomenon which was an ‘internal’ and at least partly positive product of Italian society. I define this process as a sweetening ‘internalization’ of Fascism. In East Germany, by contrast, Nazism was represented through images linking the crimes committed in the Nazi concentration camps, depicted as a sort of ‘absolute evil’, with the leadership of the FRG, considered ‘external’ to ‘true’ German society. I define this process as a ‘demonizing’ externalization of Nazism, by which I mean a tendency to represent Nazism as a ‘monstrous’ phenomenon. In the West German satirical press, on the other hand, Nazism was not only ‘externalized’ by comparing it to the East German Communist dictatorship, but also ‘internalized’ by implying that it was a negative product of German society in general and by calling for public reflection on responsibility for the Nazi crimes, including West Germany as the Nazi regime’s successor. The demonization of the regime also played a crucial role in this self-critical ‘internalization’ of Nazism.

This article explores the last chapter in the long history of the Jewish port workers in the waterfront of Thessaloniki—the World War II years. The Jewish blue-collar workers and white-collar workers shared a common history, and at the same time, each had a different story to tell on the drama of the war. Their everyday experience in the roles of workers, soldiers, non-combatants, and as Greek civilians reveals the Jewish role in shaping the space of the wartime port during three periods: Greek neutrality (September 1939 to September 1940), the Greek-Italian War (October 1940 to March 1941), and German occupation from April 1941 to March 1943, when the port became an ‘Aryan’ space.

The Holocaust was one of the major experiences of the populations, both Jewish and non-Jewish, of those European countries that were either part of the Axis or occupied by Nazi Germany. This was certainly the case for the inhabitants of Bessarabia, Northern Bukovina, and Transnistria. These regions remained under Romanian administration from June/July 1941 to spring/summer 1944. The Soviets had seized Bessarabia and Northern Bukovina from Romania in June 1940 under the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact. These territories were then reoccupied (“liberated”) by the Romanian and German armies after the German attack against the Soviet Union in June 1941. From 1941 to 1944 they were Romanian provinces ruled by separate highly centralized administrations. Transnistria (meaning literally “territory across the Dniester” in Romanian), which lies between the Dniester and Bug rivers, though never formally incorporated into Romania, was ruled by the Romanians during this period under the agreement with Hitler. Romanian authorities deported practically all Jews from Bessarabia and Northern Bukovina to Transnistria, accusing them of both treason and collaboration with the Soviets in 1940–1941 during the Soviet occupation and hostility towards the Romanian state in general. Some Roma, together with other “hostile elements” from other Romanian provinces, were also deported to Transnistria.

As a native of the Netherlands, I have been imbued with an awareness of the history of the Second World War in both Europe and the Pacific ever since I was a child, though I must admit that the Japanese occupation of the Dutch colony in the Dutch East Indies from 1942 to 1945 plays a less important part in my imagination than thefiveyears of German occupation of the Netherlands. My parents and brothers can directly recollect the latter dark period, and I see it vividly in my mind's eye, born (in 1948) and bred as I was in Rotterdam, the city whose centre was razed to the ground by the German air raid in May 1940. The effects of the bombs were still clearly visible during the years in which I was growing up there. Given this double Dutch memory – memory of the hostilities in Europe, and memory of South-East Asia – it hardly seems fortuitous that the Dutch scholar Ian Buruma chose the German and Japanese memory of the Second World War and of the War in the Pacific as the theme for his 1994 publication The Wages of Guilt.

Abstract This piece of research aims to present a historiographical and methodological review of the history of the Jesuits, the civilian population and the military troops during the German military occupation in Italy between 1943 and 1945. The analysis of hitherto unexplored sources, accessible since 2 March 2020, allows historians to explore the archival heritage that was produced by the different religious communities of the Society of Jesus present in rural and urban territories, which carried out functions of education, pastoral care and assistance in the communities of reference. The analysis of the role and function of the religious orders as observers of ‚Great History‘ to tell the story of the life of the civilian population in the years of the Second World War and under military occupation represents a privileged point of view that still awaits investigation.

The professor of theology Hal Koch played a role of considerable prominence and influence in Denmark during the years of the German occupation. His famous lectures on N. F. S. Grundtvig in the autumn of 1940 immediately made the young professor a public person of great influence, not only as a professor of church history but also as an opinion-former with close connection to the political circles. As chairman of Dansk Ungdomssamvirke (an umbrella body for Danish youth organizations), he played an important role in the intellectual formation of the younger generation and in formulating conceptions of secularization and democracy in Denmark.

Almost all of the 140,000 Jews living in the Netherlands when the German occupation began were sent to transit camps and eventually to death camps, but not on the same timetable. According to the Jews themselves, social-economic class and (pre-war) nationality played an important role in determining when and whether people were sent to meet their death. However, data from the province of Overijssel reveal that Jews from the highest social economic class were, in general, transferred to Westerbork transit camp at a later date than were Jews from lower social-economic classes. Although the usual assumption is that Jews who had more time to find a safe hideout had a better chance to survive the Holocaust, the analysis reveals otherwise. The results for nationality are similar. German Jews from Overijssel were, in general, deported from Westerbork transit camp to the death camps in the East later than were Dutch Jews from the same province. Even though this delay reduced the likelihood that German Jews were sent to a concentration camp that had a survival rate even worse than the one at Auschwitz, German Jews did not survive the Holocaust to a greater extent than did Dutch Jews.

Abstract Classic but by no means “timeless,” Carol Reed’s 1949 British/US co-production The Third Man is also a fascinating historical document about the Four Power occupation in Vienna after 1945. In this article I would like to use the film to focus upon the US occupation in particular and the perception of the role of Americans in postwar Austria. A look at the plot, the production history, and a sample of the German-speaking reception will demonstrate that the film’s ironic distance to the United States was a major part of its appeal to European audiences. Moreover, this distance was elegantly camouflaged through an innovative multilingual script that ultimately helped to reconcile German-speaking audiences to the US occupation rather than deepening “anti-Americanism.” Along with its ironic distance to the Americans, the film’s creative use of Austrian actors, music, and locations without the slightest association with war crimes or complicity with criminal actions during the war ultimately led to its paradoxical high standing as both a “mirror” of postwar reality and “timeless classic.”

Abstract During the Second World War, both in the Dutch East Indies and in Curaçao, journals were published in which Dutch authors could publish their works unhampered by German censorship. In addition, literary works in Dutch were published in the Dutch East Indies, South Africa and New York. A man involved in all these initiatives was Jan Greshoff, an author who had played an important role in Dutch literature during the time between the two world wars. In this article, the role of Greshoff in relation to the literary journal De Stoep, which originated in Curaçao after the German occupation of Holland in 1940, will be explored. Although he never went to Curaçao and never met the journal’s founder, Luc. Tournier, in person, Greshoff played an important role in the history of De Stoep during the years of the war, and thus indirectly in the development of Dutch literature in Curaçao.

Abstract:The ban on German aviation and the creation/fabrication of its history The article traces the origins of two central features of the historiography of the German aircraft industry: while its contribution to technical progress by the end of World War II tends to be grossly exaggerated – particularly in the case of the so-called Wunderwaffen, the jet fighters of Messerschmitt and Heinkel – its industrial basis und its role in the German war economy are played down to an impression that, until 1945, the industry consisted of tiny workshops of mere handicraft character. It is shown that this narrative was carefully constructed between 1945 and 1953, highlighted by memoirs of former military leaders of the Luftwaffe like Adolf Galland and Werner Baumbach, but predominantely through the memoirs of Ernst Heinkel, the leading industrialist during the Nazi period. These memioirs appeared at a time when it seemed unlikely – due to a total ban on German aviation under the Allied occupation – that a German aircraft industry would ever rise again. By exaggerating the German technological lead in 1945 they eased the idea that the industry was outdated when the chances grew for its return to the international market in 1953. Meanwhile, the outright denial of the size and importance of the industry during the war indirectly provided a chance to gloss over the participation of the industrialists in the Nazi crimes, highlighted by the use of concentration camp inmates and slave labourers who formed the bulk of the workforce in the production of the Wunderwaffen.

Abstract: The ban on German aviation and the creation/fabrication of its history The article traces the origins of two central features of the historiography of the German aircraft industry: while its contribution to technical progress by the end of World War II tends to be grossly exaggerated – particularly in the case of the so-called Wunderwaffen, the jet fighters of Messerschmitt and Heinkel – its industrial basis und its role in the German war economy are played down to an impression that, until 1945, the industry consisted of tiny workshops of mere handicraft character. It is shown that this narrative was carefully constructed between 1945 and 1953, highlighted by memoirs of former military leaders of the Luftwaffe like Adolf Galland and Werner Baumbach, but predominantely through the memoirs of Ernst Heinkel, the leading industrialist during the Nazi period. These memioirs appeared at a time when it seemed unlikely – due to a total ban on German aviation under the Allied occupation – that a German aircraft industry would ever rise again. By exaggerating the German technological lead in 1945 they eased the idea that the industry was outdated when the chances grew for its return to the international market in 1953. Meanwhile, the outright denial of the size and importance of the industry during the war indirectly provided a chance to gloss over the participation of the industrialists in the Nazi crimes, highlighted by the use of concentration camp inmates and slave labourers who formed the bulk of the workforce in the production of the Wunderwaffen.

The year 1944/45 is inscribed on the pages of Latvia’s history as the time of the second occupation by the USSR, as a result hundreds of thousands of Latvian citizens left Latvia as refugees. Since the 1945 the development of contemporary Latvian art was tragically divided between the occupied native land and the free world. The period in exile from 1945 to 1952 can be called the “restoration period”, or the period of preservation of Latvian national values and art, when the continuation of the form of artistic expression during the period of Latvia’s independence took place in refugee camps in Germany. The issue of national art became more problematic after 1952, when the exile lasted and Latvian artists were scattered on several continents of the world, the question of the fate of the expression of Latvian national art became more topical. In November 1958, with an art exhibition in New York (USA), the Art Academy of Latvia student fraternity “Dzintarzeme” (“Amberland”), which was banned in July 1940 by the USSR, was renewed. There is reason to assume that “Dzintarzeme” can be called as one of the most purposeful associations of Latvian artists in exile in the efforts to preserve and popularize Latvian national art in the USA until 1973. The main purpose of this research is through the example of student fraternity “Dzintarzeme” to clarifiy the concept – what is Latvian national art in exile, what we can define as Latvianness in Latvian exile art, and also look at art development and its role in the society of exile Latvians in the United States of America where the most active community of “Dzintarzeme” was located.

ABSTRACTIt is normally assumed that antisemitism in post-war France needs to be understood primarily in the light of the German occupation of 1940–4. This article seeks to describe the relationship between political antisemitism and events after 1945. Special attention is given to the issue that obsessed a large part of the French right: the loss of Algeria. It is argued that between 1954 and 1962 right-wingers came to took on the Jewish population of Algeria, which was often fervently opposed to French withdrawal, with new favour. Furthermore, many right-wingers began to admire Israel, which seemed so successful in combating Arab nationalism and which was widely believed to have links with the Organisation de l' Arméte Secrète. Changes in attitudes to Israel and the Jews were linked with a wider change in the French right that had been going on since 1945: most of the right now focused their loyalties around ‘l' occident’ a block of nations led by America and including Israel rather than around the France that was so important to Gaullist thinking. Finally, an attempt is made to show how the French right's new attitude to the Jews influenced its reaction to the 1965 Presidential election campaign, de Gaulle's denunciation of Israel in 1967 and the student riots of 1968.

In the 1940s, the totalitarian occupying regimes of Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union implemented the strictest control and ideological guidance of intellectual and spiritual life of all time in Estonia. Essentially, the mechanisms and results of control are known. Cultural life was subjected to strict pre-censorship and post-publication censorship, and in the Soviet era also to thematic dictation. The intellectual and spiritual resistance of Estonians in those years, in other words their refusal to accept the ruling ideology, has been studied very little. The most widespread way of putting up intellectual and spiritual resistance was to remain silent, in other words to avoid creating works that were agreeable to the authorities. Selective silence, that is the selection of one’s points of emphasis, and splitting, in other words writing for oneself works that one keeps in one’s drawer while at the same time writing for publication in print, are also placed in this category. Recording actual history in diaries through the eyes of contemporaries of events, reading intellectually and spiritually enjoyable literature, and other such actions were ways of putting up intellectual and spiritual resistance. The main objective of this study is to ascertain in historical context the attempts to put up intellectual and spiritual resistance in the comedies from the 1940s by Hugo Raudsepp (1883–1952), one of the most outstanding Estonian playwrights of the 20th century. Ideologically speaking, dramatic literature was clearly one of the most vulnerable branches of literature. It was created for public presentation in theatres, after all, for which reason authors had to be particularly careful in their wording. On the other hand, plays provided both authors and directors with opportunities to conceal messages between the lines. For this reason, theatre became exceedingly popular in Estonia by the final decades of the Soviet era. The ridicule and mocking of the Soviet regime were especially enjoyed. The subjugation of Estonian intellectual and spiritual life to the ideological requirements of the occupying regime was launched at the time of pre-war Stalinism (1940–1941). Its aim was to rear Soviet-minded people who would help to justify, fortify and enhance the Soviet regime. The systematic control of the activities of creative persons and the working out of dictates and regulations were nevertheless not yet completed during the first year of Soviet rule. Many outstanding cultural figures remained silent or earned a living by translating texts. At that time, Hugo Raudsepp wrote the non-political novel Viimne eurooplane [The Last European], which is noteworthy to this day, while his plays from the period of independent Estonian statehood were not staged in theatres. Starting with the German occupation (1941–1944), the point of departure for Hugo Raudsepp was writing between the lines in his comedies in order to get both readers and theatregoers to think and to give them strength of soul. In 1943, he wrote the comedy Vaheliku vapustused [Interspatial Jolts], which has later been styled as a masterpiece. He concealed numerous signs between the lines of this play referring to the fate of a small people, in other words Estonia, between its great neighbouring powers the Soviet Union and Germany. Performances of this play were soon banned. Performances in theatres of all other plays by Hugo Raudsepp were similarly banned, with one exception. During post-war Stalinism in 1944–51, the sovietisation of Estonian cultural life resumed. Hugo Raudsepp did not initially write on topical Soviet themes, rather he sought subject matter from earlier times. His first play from that period entitled Rotid [Rats] (1946) was about the German occupation during the Second World War and it ridiculed the occupying Germans. Raudsepp also skilfully wove messages supporting Estonian cultural identity into the play. The play was staged in the Estonia Theatre but was soon banned. Raudsepp’s second play from that period, Tagatipu Tiisenoosen (1946), earned first prize at the state comedy competition in that same year. The action in the play was set in the period of Estonian National Awakening at the end of the 19th century. It ridiculed Baltic Germans and the behaviour of parvenu Estonians. Similarly to his previous play, he demonstrated nationalist mentality in this comedy by way of nationalist songs. It is noteworthy that by the summer of 1947, Tagatipu Tiisenoosen had also reached expatriate Estonians and it was staged with an altered title as the only Stalinist- era play from Soviet Estonia in Canada (1952), Australia (1954) and Sweden (1956). The thematic precepts imposed on Estonian writers and the mechanism for ensuring that those precepts were followed became even stricter starting in 1947. Raudsepp wrote his next 7 plays on required Soviet subject matter: post-war land reform (Tillereinu peremehed [The Owners of Tillereinu], 1947), monetary reform (Noorsulane Ilmar [Ilmar the Young Farmhand], 1948), kolkhozes (Küpsuseksam [Matriculation Exam] and Lasteaed [Kindergarten], 1949, Mineviku köidikuis [In the Fetters of the Past] (1950) and his so-called Viimane näidend [Last Play], 1950 or 1951), and the beginning of the Soviet regime in Estonia in 1940 (Pööripäevad Kikerpillis [Solstices in Kikerpill], 1949). Hugo Raudsepp skilfully wove words of wisdom for Estonians on surviving under foreign rule through the mouths of his characters, or discreetly laughed about Soviet reality in a way that the censors did not grasp. Post-war cultural policy culminated with the 8th Plenum of the Estonian Communist (Bolshevist) Party (EC(B)P) Central Committee on 21–26 March 1950, where among other things, the EC(B)P Central Committee Bureau was accused of allowing the exaltation of the superiority of Western European science and culture. Cultural figures were branded bourgeois nationalists and they faced serious ordeals. The fate of the great figure of Estonian dramatic literature was very harsh. Hugo Raudsepp was depicted as a ‘fascist henchman’ in 1950. He was expelled from the Estonian Writers’ Union and was deprived of his personal pension. He was arrested on 11 May 1951. Opposition to the Soviet regime was stressed in the charges presented to him. His play Vaheliku vapustused, which the German occupying regime had banned, and his only play that was allowed at that time, Lipud tormis [Flags in the Storm], were named as the primary evidence supporting the charges. Hugo Raudsepp was sentenced to 10 years imprisonment in the autumn of 1951. He hoped to the last possible moment that he would be allowed to serve his sentence in Estonia. Unfortunately, on 18 February 1952 he was sent by train from Tallinn to Narva and on 19 February on to Leningrad. From there his journey took him to Vjatka, Kirov and finally Irkutsk oblast. This great man’s health was poor, and he soon died on 15 September 1952. Very few new literary works appeared in the 1940s. The historical nadir is altogether seen in post-war book production in the era of Stalinism. Estonian theatre was similarly in a most difficult situation due to censorship, shortage of repertoire, scarcity of funding, and layoffs and sackings of theatre personnel. Nowadays the survival of theatre at the time, regardless of difficult times, is appreciated, and actors are recognised for preserving Estonian identity and uniting the people. Hugo Raudsepp’s role as a playwright in supporting intellectual and spiritual resistance to foreign authorities has to be recognised on the basis of his occupation-era comedies. Hugo Raudsepp was one of the most productive authors of his day, writing a total of 11 plays in 1943–51. According to the assessment of scholars of literature, he never once rose with these works to the leading-edge level of his previous works. It was impossible to create masterpieces that would become classics in that time of strict ideological precepts and the monitoring of their observance. Taking into consideration the extremely restricted creative conditions, his works were still masterpieces of their time. As Hugo Raudsepp’s oeuvre demonstrates, spirit still managed to cleverly trump power regardless of censorship and official precepts. The denunciation of Stalin’s personality cult in 1956 once again opened the door to the theatre for Hugo Raudsepp’s best comedies from Estonia’s era of independent statehood. The witticism and laughter of Hugo Raudsepp’s comedies gave people renewed strength of soul.

The article is devoted to the participation of French pilots of the Normandy squadron in battles on the Soviet-German front as part of the Red Army in 1943-1945. After the defeat of France at the first stage of World War II (1940), the occupation of its territory by Germany and the organization of the Resistance movement “Fighting France” in London by General Charles de Gaulle, the pilots joined him expressed a burning desire to fight the enemy in the skies over Soviet soil. Their participation in the ranks of the Soviet Air Force was a unique event in the history of the Great Patriotic War of the Soviet Union (1945-1945). The article analyzes the information of the Soviet press during the war years about the French squadron “Normandie-Niemen”, which fought in the Soviet Air Force on the Soviet-German front. It is shown that Soviet readers during the Great Patriotic War could get a very complete and reliable idea of the military exploits of French pilots, find out the names of heroes, get acquainted with the military everyday life of officers, appreciate their patriotism and sincere friendly feelings for the Soviet Union and its people. Along with stories about the air battles of the Normandy, the articles of Soviet correspondents contained information about the history of France, how the pilots reacted to the defeat of their country, how and where they fought in the first stage of the Second World War. The press of the war years gave brief sketches of the everyday life of French fighters on Soviet soil, about the curious events that happened to the pilots of the squadron. On the example of newspaper publications 1943-1945. about the military alliance of our and French pilots, you can get an idea of how the cooperation of the countries of the anti-Hitler coalition developed and strengthened.

Fathers, families, and the state in France, 1914–1945. By Kristen Stromberg Childers. Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 2003. Pp. 261. ISBN 0-8014-4122-6. £23.95.Origins of the French welfare state: the struggle for social reform in France, 1914–1947. By Paul V. Dutton. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Pp. 251. ISBN 0-521-81334-4. £49.99.Britain, France, and the financing of the First World War. By Martin Horn. Montreal and Kingston: McGill – Queen's University Press, 2002. Pp. 249. ISBN 0-7735-2293-X. £65.00.The gold standard illusion: France, the Bank of France and the International Gold Standard, 1914–1939. By Kenneth Mouré. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. Pp. 297. ISBN 0-19-924904-0. £40.00.Workers' participation in post-Liberation France. By Adam Steinhouse. Lanham: Lexington Books, 2001. Pp. 245. ISBN 0-7391-0282-6. $70.00 (hb). ISBN 0-7391-0283-4. $24.95 (pbk).In the traditional historiography of twentieth-century France the period after the Second World War is usually contrasted favourably with that after 1918. After 1945, new men with new ideas, born out of the shock of defeat in 1940 and resistance to Nazi occupation, laid the basis for an economic and social democracy. The welfare state was created, women were given full voting rights, and French security, in both economic and territorial respects, was partially guaranteed by integrating West Germany into a new supranational institutional structure in Western Europe. 1945 was to mark the beginning of the ‘30 glorious years’ of peace and prosperity enjoyed by an expanding population in France. In sharp contrast, the years after 1918 are characterized as a period dominated by France's failed attempts to restore its status as a great power. Policies based on making the German taxpayer finance France's restoration are blamed for contributing to the great depression after 1929 and the rise of Hitler. However, as more research is carried out into the social and economic reconstruction of France after both world wars, it is becoming clear that the basis of what was to become the welfare state after 1945 was laid in the aftermath of the First World War. On the other hand, new reforms adopted in 1945 which did not build on interwar policies, such as those designed to give workers a voice in decision-making at the workplace, proved to be short-lived.

The article deals with the activities of the Ukrainian Free University in Germany (UFU) during the DP period (1945–1952). The process of resumption of the UFU operation is described. The initiator of this case was the last rector of the University of Prague and historian Vadym Shcherbakіvsky. Well-known scientists Dmytro Doroshenko, Petro Kurinny, Ivan Mirchuk, Panteleimon Kovaliv and others supported his initiative. It is noted that the Bavarian authorities and the American occupation were positive about the resumption of the university. The educational process in the higher education institution began in the summer semester of 1946. The structure of the Ukrainian Free University in Germany had two faculties: philosophy from the departments of philosophy and pedagogy, philology (Ukrainian, classical, and Slavic), history, geography, archeology, ethnology and art sciences, as well as law and socio-economic sciences from various departments. It is stated that the most active in the functioning of the university was the 1947–1948 academic year. As 492 students were educated and 95 teachers worked, a significant amount of educational literature was published. The university charter of 1948, which was the basic document regulating the functioning of the institution and giving it the right to broad autonomy and free publication, is also analyzed. The article also proves that in addition to educational work in the UFU, a publishing business was developed. Among the publications of the university was mainly educational literature, in particular textbooks for students (scripts), which were printed in cyclostyle. In order to inform students about the content of academic disciplines, the number of lectures, seminars, practical classes, lecture programs were published. To facilitate the study of educational material, university teachers issued lecture notes. Among such publications are lectures by M. Andrusiak “History of the Cossacks”, I. Mirchuk “Introduction to Philosophy”, V. Kubiyovych “Geography of Ukraine” and others. The UFU played an important role in preserving the national and cultural identity of the Ukrainian people and consolidating the Ukrainian scientific forces in exile.

Duff Cooper fell in love with France during his first visit to Paris in 1900 and he remained faithful to her for the rest of his life. The fact that Paris in 1900 was deeply Anglophobic, because of the Boer war, had no effect upon Cooper's feelings for the city. His affection for France was no fair-weather plant. It was deepened by the experience of nine months in the trenches in the Great War and was, thereafter, proof against all discouragements. As a young Foreign Office clerk in 1923 he did not join in the fashionable disparagement of France inspired by the French occupation of the Ruhr. As Minister of War from 1935 to 1937 he fought for the creation of a British army which would be large enough to play a continental role and later, as First Lord of the Admiralty, he was a leading advocate of Anglo-French co-operation. After his resignation in protest against the Munich agreement, Cooper spent his time fostering the idea of an Anglo-French alliance as the corner-stone of a European combination against Hitler's Germany. His love for France even survived the fall of France in June 1940 and, at a time when many francophiles were repenting of their former faith. Cooper renewed his pledges of devotion. Speaking on the wireless as Minister of Information on the eve of the Franco-German armistice, he declared his faith that France would rise again: ‘This is not the first time that a great nation has been defeated and has recovered from defeat. They have fought with heroism against superior numbers and superior weapons; their losses have been terrible.’ At the Ministry of Information Cooper was one of the earliest patrons of General de Gaulle and his Free French Movement. Given such a long history of Francophilia what could have been more natural than that he should have been appointed as Britain's first post-war ambassador to France. It was not, however, quite so simple as that.

In her narrative Bronisława Guza (born in 1929) talks about the life of her family in Obertyn – a small town in the former Stanisławów province – starting from 1930s and WW2 period, to the post-war years when she came to Lower Silesia. In her recollections she describes places that played an important role in the town’s life: Saints Peter and Paul’s church and priests serving in it, a convent belonging to the Congregation of the Servants of the Holiest Virgin Mary of the Immaculate Conception from Stara Wieś, along with an orphanage run by the nuns (which she used to attend as a child), the market square on market days, various shops, houses, a mound made to commemorate the battle of Obertyn in 1531, as well as a cross standing on its top. She tells us about relations between Obertyn’s inhabitants: Poles, Ukrainians and Jews – how they established and maintained close bonds, together celebrated holidays and weddings, participated in funerals, and so on – and about mutual respect for other denominations and customs. Bronisława Guza’s story of WW2 contains recollections of the Soviet and German occupations, circumstances of the Soviet re-entering at the end of March and at the beginning of April 1944, and of the activity of the Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists on these territories. The key moment for this time in history was in 1945, when a vast majority of the Polish community of Obertyn was resettled to the Western Territories. Bronisława Guza and her family ended up in Siedlce near Oława, where initially she lived together with the German, evangelical community of the village. The inhabitants settled down in the new place and tried to adapt to the new life conditions.

Hitler occupation of Ukraine became the most difficult challenge for the Ukrainian people as the "new order" leaders’ aim was to eliminate the population of captured territories, to prepare a living space for the "Aryan people" whom Hitler and his ascendants considered the Germans to be. The policy of the Nazi regime on the occupied territories, which were regarded as an object of exploitation, oppression and robbery, led to significant changes in the practice of everyday life of the civilian population. History becomes more anthropological and it encourages the study of everyday life in order to understand holistic picture of historical events. This picture had its own peculiarities in different regions of Ukraine. In the Soviet period the issues of everyday life in occupied areas were considered fragmentarily, with the main focus on the other images - the nationwide struggle against the invaders, the moral and political unity of the Ukrainian people, the leading role of the party in fighting back the occupiers, etc. In fact, modern national scientists had to study the problem of anthropological measurements of occupation from scratch. However, in recent decades in Ukraine there has appeared a lot of historical research, the subject of which is the anthropological defining of occupation. These studies are being considered in the given article. A particular subject of research and this publication as well is certain categories of population: women, minors and intelligentsia. The existence of these categories of people in occupation has certain features that researchers disclose from different, often opposite, points of view. At the present stage various aspects of the Ukrainian peasantry life during the years of Nazi occupation are investigated by O. Potylchak, O. Perekhrest, V. Revehuk, T. Nagayko and others. The works of T. Vronska, K. Kurylyshyn, L. Kovpak, O. Isaikin, M. Herasimov, V. Kononenko, A. Yankovska and others were dedicated to the everyday life issues in the years of the Second World War and in the first post-war decade. The material, household and social spheres in the post-occupation period in different regions of Ukraine were studied by S. Galchenko, M. Dedkov, I. Spudka. However, in most of these works, the strategies of town people’s survival in the liberated territories in 1943-1945 are briefly outlined. Some researchers (T. Zabolotna, T. Nahayko, O. Savitska, V. Yakovenko) emphasize the everyday life of individual cities. I. Vetrov researched the economic robbery of the national economy and the population of Ukraine by invaders. Some aspects of the social policy of occupiers are highlighted in the study of O. Potylchak. M. Shevchenko, V. Hedz conducted a study of "female" narrative sources. Nowadays there are two directions of coverage of children lives during the occupation. The first direction is represented by D. Slobodynsky, who assumes that the state of children during the Nazi occupation of Ukraine was unbearable. H. Holysh and L. Holysh consider that children and teens played a very active role in the struggle against the Nazis. The state of the intelligentsia during the occupation was studied by L. Bidocha, V. Hinda, O. Salata, T. Zabolotna. The researchers point to the reasons of cooperation of this segment of the population with the occupants, which in fact did not differ from the motives of other groups of society. The author comes to the conclusion that the Nazi occupation had a negative impact on the various spheres of life of the society at that time, which led to significant changes in the everyday life of the local population of Central Ukraine. At that period the majority of people tried to fulfill their existential needs, for example to preserve their own lives and protect their loved ones in particular. The author comes to the conclusion that the aspects of people’s life during the Nazi occupation, disclosed by the authors in modern historiography, constitute a far-incomplete picture of Ukrainians’ life during this period. There are issues that require a detailed study and analysis of researchers in order to imagine life and daily realities on the occupied territory and what problems they had to deal with in order to survive in those conditions. There is a considerable spectrum of problems associated with the occupational routine, which requires a detailed study and analysis of researchers and it allows to make a coherent picture of living conditions on the occupied territories of Ukraine.

Professor Oleхa Gorbach is a leading European Slavist and Ukrainian linguist who devoted his entire aca- demic life to philology and university studies. He left over 200 works and numerous students who became continuators of studies in the field of Ukrainian linguistics and - more broadly - Slavonic. He was born in Romaniv on 5 February 1918, where he graduated from a public school, graduated from high school in Lviv. In 1936–1940 he studied at the University of Lviv, German, Polish and Ukrainian philology under the supervision of such eminent scholars as: Wasyl Simonowich, Illarion Swiecicki, Wasyl Lew, Mykhailo Wozniak, Juliusz Kleiner, Jerzy Kury- łowicz, Witold Taszycki and others, which were the pillars of the Slavic philology in Lviv at that time. In 1945, the end of the war found Oleхa Gorbach in Germany, where from 1947 he continued his studies at the Free Ukrainian University in Munich, which at that time was already the new center of Ukrainian cultural and scientific life in the free world after Prague. There, in 1948, O. Gorbach defended his doctorate in “Akcent in Zyzanya’s “Lexis”” in 1596, and in 1951 he obtained the postdoctoral degree on the basis of Argot’s dissertation in Ukraine. Since then, Oleхa Gorbach has published many linguistic articles in scientific collections and works in separate books, in English, German, Polish and Ukrainian, which referred to problems related to Ukrainian language, its history and dialects. The bibliographic list contains over 200 serious scientific papers written by O. Gorbach. He lectured in several universities, namely in Göttingen (1952–1956) in Marburg (1956-1958) and Frankfurt (from 1958 until his retirement in 1982), where he headed the Department of Slavic Studies after receiving the title of full professor. At the same time, he was a full professor at the WUU in Munich (from 1951) and the Ukrainian Catholic University in Rome (1963). The merit of prof. Gorbach’s is among others that Ukrainian studies were introduced into the Slavic studies program in Germany. He educated a significant number of Slavists interested in Ukrainian problems in Germany. In addition, prof. Oleхa Gorbach has always taught Ukrainian at the Free Ukrainian University in Munich during his summer holidays and made many efforts to keep the level of this university below the level of German universities. Multifaceted research of the Ukrainian language prof. O. Gorbach, and above all those from the history of language and dialectology, have enriched our knowledge with new facts and theoretical conclusions. His achievements also include publications of works of fundamental importance for Ukrainian philology, which, however, were unavailable or simply forbidden in the USSR.

The politics of Italian national identity. Edited by Gino Bedani and Bruce Haddock. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2000. Pp. vii+296. ISBN 0-7083-1622-0. £40.00.Fascist modernities: Italy, 1922–1945. By Ruth Ben-Ghiat. Berkeley, University of California Press, 2001. Pp. x+317. ISBN 0-520-22363-2. £28.50.Le spie del regime. By Mauro Canali. Bologna: Il Mulino, 2004. Pp. 863. ISBN 88-15-09801-1. €70.00.I campi del Duce: l'internamento civile nell'Italia fascista (1940–1943). By Carlo Spartaco Capogreco. Turin: Einaudi, 2004. Pp. xi+319. ISBN 88-06-16781-2. €16.00.The American South and the Italian Mezzogiorno: essays in comparative history. Edited by Enrico Dal Lago and Rick Halpern. Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002. Pp. 256. ISBN 0-333-73971-X. £28.50.Disastro! Disasters in Italy since 1860: culture, politics, society. Edited by John Dickie, John Foot, and Frank M. Snowden, Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002. Pp. ix+342. ISBN 0-312-23960-2. £32.50.Remaking Italy in the twentieth century. By Roy Palmer Domenico. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2002. Pp. xiv+181. ISBN 0-8476-9637-5. £16.95.Twentieth century Italy: a social history. By Jonathan Dunnage. Harlow: Pearson, 2002. Pp. xi+271. ISBN 0-582-29278-6. £16.99.Milan since the miracle: city, culture and identity. By John Foot. Oxford: Berg, 2001. Pp. xiv+240. ISBN 1-85973-550-9. £14.99.Squadristi: protagonisti e tecniche della violenza fascista, 1919–1922. By Mimmo Franzinelli. Milan: Mondadori, 2003. Pp. 464. ISBN 88-04-51233-4. €19.00.For love and country: the Italian Resistance. By Patrick Gallo. Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2003. Pp. viii+362. ISBN 0-7618-2496-0. $55.00.The struggle for modernity: nationalism, futurism and Fascism. By Emilio Gentile. Westport, CT: Praeger, 2003. Pp. xix+203. ISBN 0-275-97692-0. $69.95.Italy and its discontents. By Paul Ginsborg. Harmondsworth: Allen Lane, 2001. Pp. xv+521. ISBN 0-713-99537-8. £25.00.Silvio Berlusconi: television, power and patrimony. By Paul Ginsborg. London: Verso, 2004. Pp. xvi+189. ISBN 1-84467-000-7. £16.00.Fascists. By Michael Mann. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Pp. x+429. ISBN 0-521-53855-6. £15.99.Mussolini: the last 600 days of Il Duce. By Ray Moseley. Dallas: Taylor Trade publishing, 2004. Pp. vii+432. ISBN 1-58979-095-2. $34.95.Lo stato fascista e la sua classe politica, 1922–1943. By Didier Musiedlak. Bologna: Il Mulino, 2001. Pp. 585. ISBN 88-15-09381-8. €32.00.Italy's social revolution: charity and welfare from Liberalism to Fascism. By Maria Sophia Quine. Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002. Pp. xv+429. ISBN 0-333-63261-3. £55.00.La seduzione totalitaria: guerra, modernità, violenza politica (1914–1918). By Angelo Ventrone. Rome: Donzelli, 2003. Pp. xvi+288. ISBN 88-7989-840-X. €24.00.With its winning of an American Academy Award, the film Life is beautiful (1997), brought its director and leading actor, Roberto Benigni, global fame. Benigni's zaniness and self-mockery seemed to embody everything that has convinced foreigners that Italians are, above all, brava gente (nice people). Sometimes, this conclusion can have a supercilious air – niceness can easily be reduced to levity or fecklessness. In those university courses that seek to comprehend the terrible tragedies of twentieth-century Europe, Italians seldom play a leading role. German, Russian, Polish, Yugoslav, and even British and French history are each riven with death and disaster or, alternatively, with heroism and achievement. In such austere company, brava gente can seem out of place.

The Nazi looting of works of art and cultural goods during 1933–1945 is usually divided into institutionalized and unauthorized, that is, wild one. The former was conducted by state and party special organizations and authorities, while the latter, widespread extensively in the east, was practiced by many Germans on their own account. The author suggests introducing a separate category of “specialized looting”, encompassing those who engaged in looting with full awareness – on their own account and/or on commission – and who were proficient in evaluation of the artistic goods and knew where and in whose possession they could be found. In the Reich and in occupied France and Holland there were many such expert robbers. In Poland their number remained small after the initial wave of official confiscations. The most notable exception was the Dutchman, Pieter Nicolaas Menten (1899–1987), who after the war became one of the wealthiest citizens of Holland and owner of a private art collection unavailable to the public. The scope, character, and methods of the looting conducted by Menten for his private use in Kraków and Lvov during the German occupation between early 1940 and the end of 1942 make him a very special case in the history of Nazi looting. These aspects are analyzed on the basis of extensive archival materials and evidence collected in Holland and Poland during the investigations and trials against Menten (the first one took place in the late 1940s and was followed by next ones in the late 1970s), who was accused of collaboration with the Germans and the massacre of Jewish inhabitants of the Galician villages of Urycz and Podhorodce in the summer of 1941. Menten was never sentenced for the looting of works of art in Kraków, where he was an appointed forced administrator of four Jewish artistic salons, or in Lvov, where he appropriated art collections and furnishings of several Lvov professors murdered on 4 July 1941. He was never found guilty even though when in January 1943 he left the General Government and went to Holland he took – with Himmler’s special permission – four railway carriages of valuable works of art, gold and silverware, antique furniture, and Oriental rugs. The post-war collection of works of art in Menten’s possession wasn’t liable to confiscation under Dutch law and has become dispersed.

Private letters between Estonia and the West as an information source from Stalinism to the start of the post-Stalin thaw, 1946–1959 After the Second World War, the Iron Curtain isolated Estonia from the rest of the world for a long time, separating many Estonian families from one another. Up to 80,000 Estonians fled from Estonia to the West due to the Second World War. Information on Estonia and the West was distorted by way of propaganda and censorship until the end of the Soviet occupation. The situation was at its most complicated during the Stalinist years, when information and the movement of information were controlled particularly stringently. The only possible communication channel between Estonia and the West for private individuals during the era of totalitarianism was the exchange of letters, and even this was exceedingly restricted and controlled. The unique correspondence between Kusta Mannermaa (1888–1959) and his nephew Väino Veemees (1919–1987) and a friend named Jaakko Valkonen (1891–1968), who was a schoolteacher in Finland, inspired the writing of this article. Nearly 80 letters from the years 1946–1959 have been examined. The primary aim of this study is to identify how opportunities for relaying information between Estonia and the West were already sought and found during the post-war decades regardless of censorship, and what the important themes were. Thematically speaking, three main themes are focused on: the establishment, disruption and restoration of written contacts between Estonian war refugees and Estonia; Estonian expatriate literature in Kusta Mannermaa’s private letters, and his cultural contacts with the Estophile Finnish schoolteacher Jaakko Valkonen in 1946–1959. During the post-war years, expatriate newspapers, including especially the Eesti Teataja [Estonian Gazette] in Sweden (starting from 1944) and the Eesti Rada [Estonian Path] in Germany (starting from 1945), obtained information on the Estonian homeland primarily from newspapers in Soviet Estonia (Rahva Hääl [the People’s Voice], Sirp ja Vasar [the Sickle and Hammer], and others) and from radio broadcasts, in isolated cases also from released German prisoners of war and Estonians who had escaped from Estonia, and very rarely from private letters. Unlike previously held viewpoints, it can be assumed that contacts between Estonians in the Estonian homeland and expatriate Estonians were already altogether closer starting in the latter half of the 1940s. Kusta Mannermaa’s correspondence helps to bring more clarity to this question. First of all at the end of 1945, he revived his correspondence with the Estophile Finnish schoolteacher Jaakko Valkonen. Contacts between Finnish and Estonian private individuals had been prohibited since the summer of 1940 in connection with the annexation of Estonia by the Soviet Union. The occupying German authorities permitted the exchange of letters for only a short period of time in the spring of 1942. When communication by way of letters was allowed between Estonians in the Estonian homeland and expatriate Estonians in connection with the repatriation policy, Väino Veemees also wrote from Bonn to his relatives in Estonia. Namely, the greater portion of Estonians who had reached the West from Estonia (up to 40,000) were located in the occupation zones administered by the Western Allies in Germany after the war. More than 30,000 of them were living in the so-called displaced persons (DP) camps that had been established by the Allied military authorities or the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration (UNRRA). The postal system had ceased to operate in Germany at the end of the war until the American military administration allowed country-wide postal deliveries to resume there at the end of October, 1945. Prior to the mass deportation of 1949, the sending of letters from the Estonian homeland to the West was banned, and correspondence between Estonians in the Estonian homeland and expatriate Estonians was cut off. Letters from Finland reached Estonia at least until the end of 1949. Contact between Estonians living on either side of the Iron Curtain was interrupted for a lengthy period of time. According to numerous sources, correspondence already started being revived in 1954–1955. The turning point came after the 20th CPSU Congress in 1956, when Stalin’s personality cult was denounced. Correspondence with relatives or kindred spirits living in the West was emotionally necessary on the one hand, but politically dangerous on the other. Yet by using self-censorship, it was nevertheless possible to maintain correspondence even in the Stalinist period by concealing important information written between the lines. Family ties gave strength to the soul at the most difficult time for Estonia during the post-war Stalinist repressions, and later on as well. For this reason, regardless of the obstructions of the Soviet regime, people tried to maintain contact with relatives and friends living in the Estonian homeland and those in the West, and to know about one another’s fate. The importance of the written word in spiritual and intellectual selfpreservation has to be stressed. On a spiritual level, it is very difficult to live in isolation in the cultural space of Europe without knowing about cultural life in the rest of the world. Yet it was even more important for Estonians who remained in their homeland to know that the fostering of Estonian culture and language was continuing in the free world. Every fragment of information on culture from the free world, especially books, was important for intellectual and spiritual resistance and self-preservation. It was not allowed to send books to or out of Estonia in the latter half of the 1940s. Mainly literature, including Estonian expatriate literature and newer Finnish literature, as well as original Estonian literature and literatuure translated into Estonian published in those years in Soviet Estonia, was discussed in Mannermaa’s correspondence with the West in those years. It turns out from the current study that information on Estonian expatriate literature, for instance, already reached Estonia ten years earlier than has hitherto been believed, by 1947 at the latest. How widely this information was known in cultural circles, however, is another question. The exchange of books with the West was allowed from the mid-1950s. A number of sources refer to the circumstance that the period from the end of 1955 to 1958 was a better time in the postal connection between Estonia and the West compared to the subsequent years. The authorities had not yet managed to update the censorship regulations in the new liberalised conditions. Together with the revival of correspondence under liberalised conditions, the sending of books also began again for the first time in over ten years starting from the mid-1950s. Thus Mannermaa sent Estonian classics to his relatives abroad starting in 1956, for instance new editions of the works of Juhan Liiv and F. R. Kreutzwald. Jaakko Valkonen sent him Finnish literature, for instance books by Mika Waltari, which were immensely popular at that time. In 1958 at the latest, but most likely already a few years earlier, Estonian expatriate literature also reached Estonian cultural figures in the Estonian homeland. Thereat numerous sources allude to exceptionally more liberal conditions from 1955 to the start of 1958 compared to later times. In some cases, expatriate Estonians who had gained citizenship in foreign countries were even able to use this liberalisation of conditions in those years to achieve the release of their relatives from Estonia to the West.

Folk, dannelse og styreform: En anmeldelse af Ove Korsgaard “Kampen om folket” (2004).[People, Education and Government: A Review of Ove Korsgaard ‘The Battle over the People’ (2004) ]By Vagn WåhlinOve Korsgaard, Kampen om folket. Et dannelsesperspektiv på dansk historie gennem 500 år [The Battle over the People: A Perspective of Education through 500 years of Danish History] (Gyldendal, Copenhagen, 2004), 672 p.From the day of its publication, Ove Korsgaard’s brilliant dissertation has had much influence on the Danish understanding of Denmark’s 500-year process of establishing the concepts of individual, society, people, and democracy. The author distinguishes between demos, the general population of the state, and ethnos, that part of the population which has inherited and accepted rights and obligations as far as and beyond a constitution and written laws. These latter are folket, the people.This primary division leads to a similar distinction between state and nation as well as a parallel distinction in government between representative government and democratic, self-organization of the citizens. A special focus of the book is the interaction and mutual dependency of the specified categories in an historical perspective of change from a late feudal society to a modem democratic welfare state. Essential institutions in this long societal process have been (a) the Lutheran Church; (b) from 1814, the municipal local schools for all, including girls; (c), for centuries, the patriarchal household; and (d) the rising centralized power of king and state. These four institutions formed the ideological and practical base of society until, through the slow effect of the Enlightenment, the individual and the people as such, within a national and democratic framework, took over in the period 1870-1900 and became the ideological basis of society with special and defined rights and duties attaching to every adult male and, from 1920, female. After the pre-1814 ethnic and cultural Danish-Norwegian-German conglomerate state finally broke down with the loss (1814) of Norway to Sweden and (1864) the duchies of Schleswig and Holstein to Pmssia, Denmark became the most ethnically and linguistically homogeneous state of Europe. Not until then could the ethnic concept of ‘the p e o p l folket, finally take over the indisputable role as the rock of the Danish society - a role which was further strengthened by the German occupation of Denmark 1940-45.Before 1870, 75% of all cultivated land was worked by the owners of medium-sized family farms, and some 75% of the population made their living in the agrarian sector of society. Agriculture produced the necessary surplus to pay for Denmark’s imports. From 1870, when the farmers began to organize effectively, they gained a higher economic, cultural and political status in Danish class-structured society which they were able to maintain for a hundred years. Up to 1870-90 Copenhagen was the only urban-industrial centre of any great significance, and from the 1890s the organized industrial capital and its workforce rose in influence; but not until the 1960s and 70s did these succeed in outdoing the fundamental influence of the agrarian sector on a national scale. Regrettably, this economic perception of the lower middle-class appearance of Danish society has been under evaluated in Korsgaard’s book, and the reader may thus miss a vital factor in the development of the democratic understanding of the Danish ethnos.The labour unions and the labour movement in politics never became revolutionary to any great extent and from 1916-29 renounced any such tendency and won a national position as a trustworthy partner in a coalition with other political and social forces. They graduated from expressing purely class interests to representing the whole population of Denmark. This led to the formation of a general welfare state for all after the Second World War. All political parties and national movements took part in building a welfare provision from cradle to grave, covering 80-90% of the population, which led to an embracing of both ethnos and demos.From the post-industrial and post-modern society of 1970 until today no leading classes in coalition with other groups have been able to formulate a common ideology and political guidelines for the future. So the Danes collectively are insecure about the future, and divided as to whether they want globalisation, Muslim newcomers, the EUconstitution etc.All in all, this book is a fascinating and well-written contribution to the current debate: Where do we come from? Who are we? And where are we heading?

The issue of the journal begins with an article on French sinology. French sinology takes a special place in the history of the sinological studies development. It was France that became the first country where the transformation of missionary sinology, which was common among a limited circle of researchers (mainly in a religious sphere), into the academic scientific discipline, which had already been taught and studied at a professional level in academic institutions, occurred. The Parisian type of sinology used to dominate the entire world for a long time, including such powerful centers of Chinese studies as Germany, Great Britain, the USA, and China itself. In order to form a complete picture of sinology development in France, the authors singled out and analyzed three historical periods covering the entire history of Chinese studies development, starting from its birth and flourishment to the process of stagnation. Modern scientific communication traditionally uses visual narratives, such as comics, for education, presentation of scientific achievements to a mass audience, and as an object of research. In the article by Oksana Hudoshnyk and Oleksandr P. Krupskyi, offers a three-level characterization of the interaction of comic culture and science in a diachronic aspect. Attention is focused not only on the chronological stages of these intersections, the expression of the specifics of the interaction is offered against the background of scientific and public discussions that accompany the comics–science dialogue to this day. Emphasis is placed on the unique phenomenon of the simultaneous concordance of various stages of the dialogue between comics and science, on the prolonged replication of successful inventions into modern experience, and the active testing of known narratives at new levels of a scientific presentation. The next paper assesses the topicality of Vernadsky's concept of the noosphere, coined over almost twenty years starting in the early 20th century. Emphasizing the uniqueness of Vernadsky's concept of the noosphere as the transformation of the biosphere by a man using reason, we concentrate on the assessment of the utopian or realistic nature of his vision of the future of humanity. Based on the philosophical case-studies analysis, it identifies the ideological roots of the noosphere concept, the development of views on the concept in time, the role of reason and scientific thinking, the opinions of its supporters and critics, and Moiseev's related concept of co-evolution. Lectures de Potentia Restitutiva or Of Spring: Explaining the Power of Springing Bodies (1678) is an important book for the history of science. This book is better known for Hooke’s presentation of the law that bears his name. In the article by Isadora Monteiro, seeks to study the Lectures de Potentia Restitutiva once again to better understand Hooke’s thoughts about the rule which bears his name and his conception of gravity, which the author considered a force. Here Hooke’s definitions of body and motion will be presented, as well as his actual objective when he formulated the so-called Hooke’s Law. As we will see, Hooke intended to create a “philosophical scale” to measure the gravitational attraction between bodies. By considering his previous publications, such as An attempt to prove the motion of the Earth from Observations or Micrographia: or some Physiological Descriptions of Minute Bodies, or even unpublished works such as On the inflection of a direct motion into a curve by supervening Attractive principle, it becomes clear that Hooke was already opening a path toward an understanding of gravity before Newton’s Principia (1687) were published. By taking into account the controversy between Isaac Newton and Robert Hooke, we also intend to strengthen the idea that Hooke was an indispensable contributor to the elaboration of a law of universal gravitation. In 1915, the first occupational therapy school was founded by Jane Addams at Hull House (Chicago, USA). In that process, Addams inspired the first generation of occupational therapists, especially Eleanor Clarke Slagle. Thus, in the article by Rodolfo Morrisonseeks to highlight the contribution of Jane Addams to the development of Occupational Therapy through an in-depth bibliographic review, from primary sources. The next article presents the results of a study of the features of biographical and prosopographic materials about famous mathematicians and natural scientists, published in one of the most authoritative journals “Bulletin of Experimental Physics and Elementary Mathematics”, which was published in Kyiv and Odesa during 1886–1917. In fact, the journal was an unofficial periodical printed branch of the Mathematical Department of the Novorossiysk Society of Naturalists. The aim of the next research is to study the policy efforts conducted by the Indonesian government since the beginning of independence in 1945 to present, in advancing science and technology and innovation. A content analysis approach is employed to identify each stipulated regulation in Indonesia in the form of Laws, Government Regulations, Presidential Regulations, Presidential Decrees, and Presidential Instructions. There are 78 regulations in the field of science and technology and innovation that are analyzed. The results of the analysis are described based on the emergence of regulations and institutional implications generated as part of the ecosystem. In the article by Ihor Annienkov, based on the problem-chronological, comparative-historical, historiographical, and source-research methods, as well as the method of actualization, identifies the extent of borrowing foreign design and technological solutions in the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic for projecting electrical machines in the second half of the 1930s, as well as the reasons for the absence of unambiguous information in historiography regarding the existence of this phenomenon in the republic at this chronological stage. The publication provides a general assessment of the quality of scientific support for the processes of creating electrical machines, establishes the ways of fulfilling the scientific-technical borrowings that were studiedand the dynamics of their development, analyzes their role in the growth of the technical level of products of the Ukrainian electrical machine-building branch. In the article by Mykola Ruban and Andrii Fomin, attempts to investigate the historical circumstances of the mastering and development of the industrial production of rolling stock in Ukraine from 1991 to 2021. In the course of the scientific development of the proposed research, materials from mass-circulation newspapers, industry publications of railway transport, as well as technical studies of employees of manufacturing plants were used. The next discusses the conditions and prerequisites for choosing the location of the plant; considers the stage of the establishment (foundation) of the plant; examines the stage of plant construction and equipping it with technological facilities in detail; analyzes the development and establishment of the plant between 1897 and 1914. A brief analysis of locomotive designs produced by the Kharkiv Locomotive Plant from 1897 to 1914 has been made. The article shows the significance of Consultative Congresses of Traction Engineers for the development of railway machinery both at Kharkiv Locomotive Plant and for the entire railway industry. The purpose of next study is to highlight the peculiarities of the development of the Russian aviation industry during the First World War. The focus is on analyzing production programs and matching their quantitative and qualitative parameters to war requirements. Production plans of leading Russian aviation factories as well as qualitative and quantitative parameters of products have been analyzed in the article.

Canon and oblivion. The memorials of archaeologyThe article takes its point of departure in the sun chariot; the find itself and its find site at Trundholm bog where it was discovered in 1902. The famous sun chariot, now at the National Museum in Copenhagen, is a national treasure included in the Danish “Cultural Canon” and “History Canon”.The find site itself has alternated bet­ween experiencing intense attention and oblivion. A monument was erected in 1925; a new monument was then created in 1962 and later moved in 2002. The event of 1962 was followed by ceremonies, speeches and songs, and anniversary celebrations were held in 2002, during which a copy of the sun chariot was sacrificed.The memorial at Trundholm bog is only one of several memorials at archaeological find sites in Denmark. Which finds have been commemorated and marked by memorials? When did this happen? Who took the initiative? How were they executed? Why are these finds remembered? What picture of the past do we meet in this canon in stone?Find sites and archaeological memorials have been neglected in archaeology and by recent trends in the study of the history of archaeology. Considering the impressive research on monuments and monumentality in archaeology, this is astonishing. However, memorials in general receive attention in an active research field on the use of history and heritage studies, where historians and ethnologists dominate. The main focus here is, however, on war memorials. An important source of inspiration has been provided by a project led by the French historian Pierre Nora who claims that memorial sites are established when the living memory is threatened (a thesis refuted by the many Danish “Reunion” monuments erected even before the day of reunification in 1920).Translated into Danish conditions, studies of the culture of remembrance and memorials have focused on the wars of 1848-50 and 1864, the Reunion in 1920, the Occupation in 1940-45 and, more generally, on conflicts in the borderland bet­ween Denmark and Germany.In relation to the total number of memorials and public meeting places in Denmark, archaeological memorials of archaeology are few in number, around 1 % of the total. However, they prompt crucial questions concerning the use of the past, on canon and oblivion.“Canon” means rule, and canonical texts are the supposed genuine texts in the Bible. The concept of canon became a topic in the 1990s when Harold Bloom, in “The Western Canon”, identified a number of books as being canonical. In Denmark, canon has been a great issue in recent years with the appearance of the “Danish Literary Canon” in 2004, and the “Cultural Canon” and the “History Canon”, both in 2006. The latter includes the Ertebølle culture, the sun chariot and the Jelling stone. The political context for the creation of canon lists is the so-called “cultural conflict” and the debate concerning immigration and “foreigners”.Canon and canonization means a struggle against relativism and oblivion. Canon means that something ought to be remembered while something else is allowed to be forgotten. Canon lists are constructed when works and values are perceived as being threatened by oblivion. Without ephemerality and oblivion there is no need for canon lists. Canon and oblivion are linked.Memorials mean canonization of certain individuals, collectives, events and places, while others are allowed to be forgotten. Consequently, archaeological memorials constitute part of the canonization of a few finds and find sites. According to Pierre Nora’s thesis, memorials are established when the places are in danger of being forgotten.Whether one likes canon lists or not, they are a fact. There has always been a process of prioritisation, leading to some finds being preserved and others discarded, some being exhibited and others ending up in the stores.Canonization is expressed in the classical “Seven Wonders of the World”, the “Seven New Wonders of the World” and the World Heritage list. A find may be declared as treasure trove, as being of “unique national significance” or be honoured by the publication of a monograph or by being given its own museum.In practice, the same few finds occur in different contexts. There seems to be a consensus within the subject of canonization of valuing what is well preserved, unique, made of precious metals, bears images and is monumental. A top-ten canon list of prehistoric finds from Denmark according to this consensus would probably include the following finds: The sun chariot from Trundholm, the girl from Egtved, the Dejbjerg carts, the Gundestrup cauldron, Tollund man, the golden horns from Gallehus, the Mammen or Bjerringhøj grave, the Ladby ship and the Skuldelev ships.Just as the past may be used in many different ways, there are many forms of memorial related to monuments from the past or to archaeological excavations. Memorials were constructed in the 18th and 19th centuries at locations where members of the royal family had conducted archaeology. As with most other memorials from that time, the prince is at the centre, while antiquity and archaeology create a brilliant background, for example at Jægerpris (fig. 2). Memorials celebrating King Frederik VII were created at the Dæmpegård dolmen and at the ruin of Asserbo castle. A memorial celebrating Count Frederik Sehested was erected at Møllegårdsmarken (fig. 3). Later there were also memorials celebrating the architect C.M. Smith at the ruin of Kalø Castle and Svend Dyhre Rasmussen and Axel Steensberg, respectively the finder and the excavator of the medieval village at Borup Ris.Several memorials were erected in the decades around 1900 to commemorate important events or persons in Danish history, for example by Thor Lange. The memorials were often located at sites and monuments that had recently been excavated, for example at Fjenneslev (fig. 4).A large number of memorials commemorate abandoned churches, monasteries, castles or barrows that have now disappeared, for example at the monument (fig. 5) near Bjerringhøj.Memorials were erected in the first half of the 20th century near large prehistoric monuments which also functioned as public meeting places, for example at Glavendrup, Gudbjerglund and Hohøj. Prehistoric monuments, especially dolmens, were also used as models when new memorials were created during the 19th and 20th centuries.Finally, sculptures were produced at the end of the 19th century sculptures where the motif was a famous archaeological find – the golden horns, the girl from Egtved, the sun chariot and the woman from Skrydstrup.In the following, this article will focus on a category of memorials raised to commemorate an archaeological find. In Denmark, 24 archaeological find sites have been marked by a total of 26 monuments (fig. 6). This survey is based on excursions, scanning the literature, googling on the web and contact with colleagues. The monuments are presented chronological, i.e. by date of erection. 1-2) The golden horns from Gallehus: Found in 1639 and 1734; two monu­ments in 1907. 3) The Snoldelev runic stone: Found in c. 1780; monument in 1915. 4) The sun chariot from Trundholm bog: Found in 1902; monument in 1925; renewed in 1962 and moved in 2002. 5) The grave mound from Egtved: Found in 1921; monument in 1930. 6) The Dejbjerg carts. Found in 1881-83; monument in 1933. 7) The Gundestrup cauldron: Found in 1891; wooden stake in 1934; replaced with a monument in 1935. 8) The Bregnebjerg burial ground: Found in 1932; miniature dolmen in 1934. 9) The Brangstrup gold hoard. Found in 1865; monument in 1935.10-11) Maglemose settlements in Mulle­rup bog: Found in 1900-02; two monuments in 1935 and 1936. 12) The Skarpsalling vessel from Oudrup Heath: Found in 1891; monument in 1936. 13) The Juellinge burial ground: Found in 1909; monument in 1937. 14) The Ladby ship: Found in 1935; monument probably in 1937. 15) The Hoby grave: Found in 1920; monument in 1939. 16) The Maltbæk lurs: Found in 1861 and 1863; monument in 1942. 17) Ginnerup settlement: First excavation in 1922; monument in 1945. 18) The golden boats from Nors: Found in 1885; monument in 1945. 19) The Sædinge runic stone: Found in 1854; monument in 1945. 20) The Nydam boat: Found in 1863; monument in 1947. 21) The aurochs from Vig: Found in 1904; monument in 1957. 22) Tollund Man: Found in 1950; wooden stake in 1968; renewed inscription in 2000. 23) The Veksø helmets: Found in 1942; monument in 1992. 24) The Bjæverskov coin hoard. Found in 1999; monument in 1999. 25) The Frydenhøj sword from Hvidovre: Found in 1929; monument in 2001; renewed in 2005. 26) The Bellinge key: Found in 1880; monument in 2003.Two monuments (fig. 7) raised in 1997 at Gallehus, where the golden horns were found, marked a new trend. From then onwards the find itself and its popular finders came into focus. At the same time the classical or old Norse style of the memorials was replaced by simple menhirs or boulders with an inscription and sometimes also an image of the find. One memorial was constructed as a miniature dolmen and a few took the form of a wooden stake.The finds marked by memorials represent a broader spectrum than the top-ten list. They represent all periods from the Stone Age to the Middle Ages over most of Denmark. Memorials were created throughout the 20th century; in greatest numbers in the 1930s and 1940s, but with none between 1968 and 1992.The inscriptions mention what was found and, in most cases, also when it happened. Sometimes the finder is named and, in a few instances, also the person on whose initiative the memorial was erected. The latter was usually a representative part of the political agency of the time. In the 18th and 19th centuries it was the royal family and the aristocracy. In the 20th century it was workers, teachers, doctors, priests, farmers and, in many cases, local historical societies who were responsible, as seen on the islands of Lolland and Falster, where ten memorials were erected between 1936 and 1951 to commemorate historical events, individuals, monuments or finds.The memorial from 2001 at the find site of the Frydenhøj sword in Hvidovre represents an innovation in the tradition of marking history in the landscape. The memorial is a monumental hybrid between signposting and public art (fig. 8). It formed part of a communication project called “History in the Street”, which involved telling the history of a Copenhagen suburb right there where it actually happened.The memorials marking archaeological finds relate to the nation and to nationalism in several ways. The monuments at Gallehus should, therefore, be seen in the context of a struggle concerning both the historical allegiance and future destiny of Schleswig or Southern Jutland. More generally, the national perspective occurs in inscriptions using concepts such as “the people”, “Denmark” and “the Danes”, even if these were irrelevant in prehistory, e.g. when the monument from 1930 at Egtved mentions “A young Danish girl” (fig. 9). This use of the past to legitimise the nation, belongs to the epoch of World War I, World War II and the 1930s. The influence of nationalism was often reflected in the ceremonies when the memorials were unveiled, with speeches, flags and songs.According to Marie Louise Stig Sørensen and Inge Adriansen, prehistoric objects that are applicable as national symbols, should satisfy three criteria. The should: 1) be unusual and remarkable by their technical and artistic quality; 2) have been produced locally, i.e. be Danish; 3) have been used in religious ceremonies or processions. The 26 archaeological finds marked with memorials only partly fit these criteria. The finds also include more ordinary finds: a burial ground, settlements, runic stones, a coin hoard, a sword and a key. Several of the finds were produced abroad: the Gundestrup cauldron, the Brangstrup jewellery and coins and the Hoby silver cups.It is tempting to interpret the Danish cultural canon as a new expression of a national use of the past in the present. Nostalgia, the use of the past and the creation of memorials are often explained as an expression of crisis in society. This seems reasonable for the many memorials from 1915-45 with inscriptions mentioning hope, consolation and darkness. However, why are there no memorials from the economic crisis years of the 1970s and 1980s? It seems as if the past is recalled, when the nation is under threat – in the 1930s and 40s from expansive Germany – and since the 1990s by increased immigration and globalisation.The memorials have in common local loss and local initiative. A treasure was found and a treasure was lost, often to the National Museum in Copenhagen. A treasure was won that contributed to the great narrative of the history of Denmark, but that treasure has also left its original context. The memorials commemorate the finds that have contributed to the narrative of the greatness, age and area of Denmark. The memorials connect the nation and the native place, the capital and the village in a community, where the past is a central concept. The find may also become a symbol of a region or community, for example the sun chariot for Trundholm community and the Gundestrup cauldron for Himmerland.It is almost always people who live near the find site who want to remember what has been found and where. The finds were commemorated by a memorial on average 60 years after their discovery. A longer period elapsed for the golden horns from Gallehus; shortest was at Bjæverskov where the coin hoard was found in March 1999 and a monument was erected in November of the same year.Memorials might seem an old-fashioned way of marking localities in a national topography, but new memorials are created in the same period as many new museums are established.A unique find has no prominent role in archaeological education, research or other work. However, in public opinion treasures and exotic finds are central. Folklore tells of people searching for treasures but always failing. Treasure hunting is restricted by taboos. In the world of archaeological finds there are no taboos. The treasure is found by accident and in spite of various hindrances the find is taken to a museum. The finder is often a worthy person – a child, a labourer or peasant. He or she is an innocent and ordinary person. A national symbol requires a worthy finder. And the find occurs as a miracle. At the find site a romantic relationship is established between the ancestors and their heirs who, by way of a miracle, find fragments of the glorious past of the nation. A paradigmatic example is the finding of the golden horns from Gallehus. Other examples extend from the discovery of the sun chariot in Trundholm bog to the Stone Age settlement at Mullerup bog.The article ends with a catalogue presenting the 24 archaeological find sites that have been marked with monuments in present-day Denmark.Jes WienbergHistorisk arkeologiInstitutionen för Arkeologi och ­Antikens historiaLunds Universitet

We’ll have trouble now!The Archaeological Society of Jutland was founded on Sunday, 11 March 1951. As with most projects with which P.V Glob was involved, this did not pass off without drama. Museum people and amateur archaeologists in large numbers appeared at the Museum of Natural History in Aarhus, which had placed rooms at our disposal. The notable dentist Holger Friis, the uncrowned king of Hjørring, was present, as was Dr Balslev from Aidt, Mr and Mrs Overgaard from Holstebro Museum, and the temperamental leader of Aalborg Historical Museum, Peter Riismøller, with a number of his disciples. The staff of the newly-founded Prehistoric Museum functioned as the hosts, except that one of them was missing: the instigator of the whole enterprise, Mr Glob. As the time for the meeting approached, a cold sweat broke out on the foreheads of the people present. Finally, just one minute before the meeting was to start, he arrived and mounted the platform. Everything then went as expected. An executive committee was elected after some discussion, laws were passed, and then suddenly Glob vanished again, only to materialise later in the museum, where he confided to us that his family, which included four children, had been enlarged by a daughter.That’s how the society was founded, and there is not much to add about this. However, a few words concerning the background of the society and its place in a larger context may be appropriate. A small piece of museum history is about to be unfolded.The story begins at the National Museum in the years immediately after World War II, at a time when the German occupation and its incidents were still terribly fresh in everyone’s memory. Therkel Mathiassen was managing what was then called the First Department, which covered the prehistoric periods.Although not sparkling with humour, he was a reliable and benevolent person. Number two in the order of precedence was Hans Christian Broholm, a more colourful personality – awesome as he walked down the corridors, with his massive proportions and a voice that sounded like thunder when nothing seemed to be going his way, as quite often seemed to be the case. Glob, a relatively new museum keeper, was also quite loud at times – his hot-blooded artist’s nature manifested itself in peculiar ways, but his straight forward appearance made him popular with both the older and the younger generations. His somewhat younger colleague C.J. Becker was a scholar to his fingertips, and he sometimes acted as a welcome counterbalance to Glob. At the bottom of the hierarchy was the student group, to which I belonged. The older students handled various tasks, including periodic excavations. This was paid work, and although the salary was by no means princely, it did keep us alive. Student grants were non-existent at the time. Four of us made up a team: Olfert Voss, Mogens Ørsnes, Georg Kunwald and myself. Like young people in general, we were highly discontented with the way our profession was being run by its ”ruling” members, and we were full of ideas for improvement, some of which have later been – or are being – introduced.At the top of our wish list was a central register, of which Voss was the strongest advocate. During the well over one hundred years that archaeology had existed as a professional discipline, the number of artefacts had grown to enormous amounts. The picture was even worse if the collections of the provincial museums were taken into consideration. We imagined how it all could be registered in a card index and categorised according to groups to facilitate access to references in any particular situation. Electronic data processing was still unheard of in those days, but since the introduction of computers, such a comprehensive record has become more feasible.We were also sceptical of the excavation techniques used at the time – they were basically adequate, but they badly needed tightening up. As I mentioned before, we were often working in the field, and not just doing minor jobs but also more important tasks, so we had every opportunity to try out our ideas. Kunwald was the driving force in this respect, working with details, using sections – then a novelty – and proceeding as he did with a thoroughness that even his fellow students found a bit exaggerated at times, although we agreed with his principles. Therkel Mathiassen moaned that we youngsters were too expensive, but he put up with our excesses and so must have found us somewhat valuable. Very valuable indeed to everyon e was Ejnar Dyggve’s excavation of the Jelling mounds in the early 1940s. From a Danish point of view, it was way ahead of its time.Therkel Mathiassen justly complained about the economic situation of the National Museum. Following the German occupation, the country was impoverished and very little money was available for archaeological research: the total sum available for the year 1949 was 20,000 DKK, which corresponded to the annual income of a wealthy man, and was of course absolutely inadequate. Of course our small debating society wanted this sum to be increased, and for once we didn’t leave it at the theoretical level.Voss was lucky enough to know a member of the Folketing (parliament), and a party leader at that. He was brought into the picture, and between us we came up with a plan. An article was written – ”Preserve your heritage” (a quotation from Johannes V. Jensen’s Denmark Song) – which was sent to the newspaper Information. It was published, and with a little help on our part the rest of the media, including radio, picked up the story.We informed our superiors only at the last minute, when everything was arranged. They were taken by surprise but played their parts well, as expected, and everything went according to plan. The result was a considerable increase in excavation funds the following year.It should be added that our reform plans included the conduct of exhibitions. We found the traditional way of presenting the artefacts lined up in rows and series dull and outdated. However, we were not able to experiment within this field.Our visions expressed the natural collision with the established ways that comes with every new generation – almost as a law of nature, but most strongly when the time is ripe. And this was just after the war, when communication with foreign colleagues, having been discontinued for some years, was slowly picking up again. The Archaeological Society of Jutland was also a part of all this, so let us turn to what Hans Christian Andersen somewhat provocatively calls the ”main country”.Until 1949, only the University of Copenhagen provided a degree in prehistoric archaeology. However, in this year, the University of Aarhus founded a chair of archaeology, mainly at the instigation of the Lord Mayor, Svend Unmack Larsen, who was very in terested in archaeology. Glob applied for the position and obtained it, which encompassed responsibility for the old Aarhus Museum or, as it was to be renamed, the Prehistoric Museum (now Moesgaard Museum).These were landmark events to Glob – and to me, as it turned out. We had been working together for a number of years on the excavation of Galgebakken (”Callows Hill”) near Slots Bjergby, Glob as the excavation leader, and I as his assistant. He now offered me the job of museum curator at his new institution. This was somewhat surprising as I had not yet finished my education. The idea was that I was to finish my studies in remote Jutland – a plan that had to be given up rather quickly, though, for reasons which I will describe in the following. At the same time, Gunner Lange-Kornbak – also hand-picked from the National Museum – took up his office as a conservation officer.The three of us made up the permanent museum staff, quickly supplemented by Geoffrey Bibby, who turned out to be an invaluable colleague. He was English and had been stationed in the Faeroe Islands during the war, where he learned to speak Danish. After 1945 he worked for some years for an oil company in the Gulf of Persia, but after marrying Vibeke, he settled in her home town of Aarhus. As his academic background had involved prehistoric cultures he wanted to collaborate with the museum, which Glob readily permitted.This small initial flock governed by Glob was not permitted to indulge inidleness. Glob was a dynamic character, full of good and not so good ideas, but also possessing a good grasp of what was actually practicable. The boring but necessary daily work on the home front was not very interesting to him, so he willingly handed it over to others. He hardly noticed the lack of administrative machinery, a prerequisite for any scholarly museum. It was not easy to follow him on his flights of fancy and still build up the necessary support base. However, the fact that he in no way spared himself had an appeasing effect.Provincial museums at that time were of a mixed nature. A few had trained management, and the rest were run by interested locals. This was often excellently done, as in Esbjerg, where the master joiner Niels Thomsen and a staff of volunteers carried out excavations that were as good as professional investigations, and published them in well-written articles. Regrettably, there were also examples of the opposite. A museum curator in Jutland informed me that his predecessor had been an eager excavator but very rarely left any written documentation of his actions. The excavated items were left without labels in the museum store, often wrapped in newspapers. However, these gave a clue as to the time of unearthing, and with a bit of luck a look in the newspaper archive would then reveal where the excavation had taken place. Although somewhat exceptional, this is not the only such case.The Museum of Aarhus definitely belonged among the better ones in this respect. Founded in 1861, it was at first located at the then town hall, together with the local art collection. The rooms here soon became too cramped, and both collections were moved to a new building in the ”Mølleparken” park. There were skilful people here working as managers and assistants, such as Vilhelm Boye, who had received his archaeological training at the National Museum, and later the partners A. Reeh, a barrister, and G.V. Smith, a captain, who shared the honour of a number of skilfully performed excavations. Glob’s predecessor as curator was the librarian Ejler Haugsted, also a competent man of fine achievements. We did not, thus, take over a museum on its last legs. On the other hand, it did not meet the requirements of a modern scholarly museum. We were given the task of turning it into such a museum, as implied by the name change.The goal was to create a museum similar to the National Museum, but without the faults and shortcomings that that museum had developed over a period of time. In this respect our nightly conversations during our years in Copenhagen turned out to be useful, as our talk had focused on these imperfections and how to eradicate them.We now had the opportunity to put our theories into practice. We may not have succeeded in doing so, but two areas were essentially improved:The numerous independent numbering systems, which were familiar to us from the National Museum, were permeating archaeological excavation s not only in the field but also during later work at the museum. As far as possible this was boiled down to a single system, and a new type of report was born. (In this context, a ”report” is the paper following a field investigation, comprising drawings, photos etc. and describing the progress of the work and the observations made.) The instructions then followed by the National Museum staff regarding the conduct of excavations and report writing went back to a 19th-century protocol by the employee G.V. Blom. Although clear and rational – and a vast improvement at the time – this had become outdated. For instance, the excavation of a burial mound now involved not only the middle of the mound, containing the central grave and its surrounding artefacts, but the complete structure. A large number of details that no one had previously paid attention to thus had to be included in the report. It had become a comprehensive and time-consuming work to sum up the desultory notebook records in a clear and understandable description.The instructions resulting from the new approach determined a special records system that made it possible to transcribe the notebook almost directly into a report following the excavation. The transcription thus contained all the relevant information concerning the in vestigation, and included both relics and soil layers, the excavation method and practical matters, although in a random order. The report proper could then bereduced to a short account containing references to the numbers in the transcribed notebook, which gave more detailed information.As can be imagined, the work of reform was not a continuous process. On the contrary, it had to be done in our spare hours, which were few and far between with an employer like Glob. The assignments crowded in, and the large Jutland map that we had purchased was as studded with pins as a hedge hog’s spines. Each pin represented an inuninent survey, and many of these grew into small or large excavations. Glob himself had his lecture duties to perform, and although he by no means exaggerated his concern for the students, he rarely made it further than to the surveys. Bibby and I had to deal with the hard fieldwork. And the society, once it was established, did not make our lives any easier. Kuml demanded articles written at lightning speed. A perusal of my then diary has given me a vivid recollection of this hectic period, in which I had to make use of the evening and night hours, when the museum was quiet and I had a chance to collect my thoughts. Sometimes our faithful supporter, the Lord Mayor, popped in after an evening meeting. He was extremely interested in our problems, which were then solved according to our abilities over a cup of instant coffee.A large archaeological association already existed in Denmark. How ever, Glob found it necessary to establish another one which would be less oppressed by tradition. Det kongelige nordiske Oldsskriftselskab had been funded in 1825 and was still influenced by different peculiarities from back then. Membership was not open to everyone, as applications were subject to recommendation from two existing members and approval by a vote at one of the monthly lecture meetings. Most candidates were of course accepted, but unpopular persons were sometimes rejected. In addition, only men were admitted – women were banned – but after the war a proposal was brought forward to change this absurdity. It was rejected at first, so there was a considerable excitement at the January meeting in 1951, when the proposal was once again placed on the agenda. The poor lecturer (myself) did his best, although he was aware of the fact that just this once it was the present and not the past which was the focus of attention. The result of the voting was not very courteous as there were still many opponents, but the ladies were allowed in, even if they didn’t get the warmest welcome.In Glob’s society there were no such restrictions – everyone was welcome regardless of sex or age. If there was a model for the society, it was the younger and more progressive Norwegian Archaeological Society rather than the Danish one. The main purpose of both societies was to produce an annual publication, and from the start Glob’s Kuml had a closer resemblance to the Norwegian Viking than to the Danish Aarbøger for nordisk Oldkyndighed og Historie. The name of the publication caused careful consideration. For a long time I kept a slip of paper with different proposals, one of which was Kuml, which won after having been approved by the linguist Peter Skautrup.The name alone, however, was not enough, so now the task became to find so mething to fill Kuml with. To this end the finds came in handy, and as for those, Glob must have allied him self with the higher powers, since fortune smiled at him to a considerable extent. Just after entering upon his duties in Aarhus, an archaeological sensation landed at his feet. This happened in May 1950 when I was still living in the capital. A few of us had planned a trip to Aarhus, partly to look at the relics of th e past, and partly to visit our friend, the professor. He greeted us warmly and told us the exciting news that ten iron swords had been found during drainage work in the valley of lllerup Aadal north of the nearby town of Skanderborg. We took the news calmly as Glob rarely understated his affairs, but our scepticism was misplaced. When we visited the meadow the following day and carefully examined the dug-up soil, another sword appeared, as well as several spear and lance heads, and other iron artefacts. What the drainage trench diggers had found was nothing less than a place of sacrifice for war booty, like the four large finds from the 1800s. When I took up my post in Aarhus in September of that year I was granted responsibility for the lllerup excavation, which I worked on during the autumn and the following six summers. Some of my best memories are associated with this job – an interesting and happy time, with cheerful comradeship with a mixed bunch of helpers, who were mainly archaeology students. When we finished in 1956, it was not because the site had been fully investigated, but because the new owner of the bog plot had an aversion to archaeologists and their activities. Nineteen years later, in 1975, the work was resumed, this time under the leadership of Jørgen Ilkjær, and a large amount of weaponry was uncovered. The report from the find is presently being published.At short intervals, the year 1952 brought two finds of great importance: in Februar y the huge vessel from Braa near Horsens, and in April the Grauballe Man. The large Celtic bronze bowl with the bulls’ heads was found disassembled, buried in a hill and covered by a couple of large stones. Thanks to the finder, the farmer Søren Paaske, work was stopped early enough to leave areas untouched for the subsequent examination.The saga of the Grauballe Man, or the part of it that we know, began as a rumour on the 26th of April: a skeleton had been found in a bog near Silkeborg. On the following day, which happened to be a Sunday, Glob went off to have a look at the find. I had other business, but I arrived at the museum in the evening with an acquaintance. In my diary I wrote: ”When we came in we had a slight shock. On the floor was a peat block with a corpse – a proper, well-preserved bog body. Glob brought it. ”We’ll be in trouble now.” And so we were, and Glob was in high spirits. The find created a sensation, which was also thanks to the quick presentation that we mounted. I had purchased a tape recorder, which cost me a packet – not a small handy one like the ones you get nowadays, but a large monstrosity with a steel tape (it was, after all, early days for this device) – and assisted by several experts, we taped a number of short lectures for the benefit of the visitors. People flocked in; the queue meandered from the exhibition room, through the museum halls, and a long way down the street. It took a long wait to get there, but the visitors seemed to enjoy the experience. The bog man lay in his hastily – procured exhibition case, which people circled around while the talking machine repeatedly expressed its words of wisdom – unfortunately with quite a few interruptions as the tape broke and had to be assembled by hand. Luckily, the tape recorders now often used for exhibitions are more dependable than mine.When the waves had died down and the exhibition ended, the experts examined the bog man. He was x-rayed at several points, cut open, given a tooth inspection, even had his fingerprints taken. During the autopsy there was a small mishap, which we kept to ourselves. However, after almost fifty years I must be able to reveal it: Among the organs removed for investigation was the liver, which was supposedly suitable for a C-14 dating – which at the time was a new dating method, introduced to Denmark after the war. The liver was sent to the laboratory in Copenhagen, and from here we received a telephone call a few days later. What had been sent in for examination was not the liver, but the stomach. The unfortunate (and in all other respects highly competent) Aarhus doctor who had performed the dissection was cal1ed in again. During another visit to the bogman’s inner parts he brought out what he believed to be the real liver. None of us were capable of deciding th is question. It was sent to Copenhagen at great speed, and a while later the dating arrived: Roman Iron Age. This result was later revised as the dating method was improved. The Grauballe Man is now thought to have lived before the birth of Christ.The preservation of the Grauballe Man was to be conservation officer Kornbak’s masterpiece. There were no earlier cases available for reference, so he invented a new method, which was very successful. In the first volumes of Kuml, society members read about the exiting history of the bog body and of the glimpses of prehistoric sacrificial customs that this find gave. They also read about the Bahrain expeditions, which Glob initiated and which became the apple of his eye. Bibby played a central role in this, as it was he who – at an evening gathering at Glob’s and Harriet’s home in Risskov – described his stay on the Persian Gulf island and the numerous burial mounds there. Glob made a quick decision (one of his special abilities was to see possibilities that noone else did, and to carry them out successfully to everyone’s surprise) and in December 1952 he and Bibby left for the Gulf, unaware of the fact that they were thereby beginning a series of expeditions which would continue for decades. Again it was Glob’s special genius that was the decisive factor. He very quickly got on friendly terms with the rulers of the small sheikhdoms and interested them in their past. As everyone knows, oil is flowing plentifully in those parts. The rulers were thus financially powerful and some of this wealth was quickly diverted to the expeditions, which probably would not have survived for so long without this assistance. To those of us who took part in them from time to time, the Gulf expeditions were an unforgettable experience, not just because of the interesting work, but even more because of the contact with the local population, which gave us an insight into local manners and customs that helped to explain parts of our own country’s past which might otherwise be difficult to understand. For Glob and the rest of us did not just get close to the elite: in spite of language problems, our Arab workers became our good friends. Things livened up when we occasionally turned up in their palm huts.Still, co-operating with Glob was not always an easy task – the sparks sometimes flew. His talent of initiating things is of course undisputed, as are the lasting results. He was, however, most attractive when he was in luck. Attention normally focused on this magnificent person whose anecdotes were not taken too seriously, but if something went wrong or failed to work out, he could be grossly unreasonable and a little too willing to abdicate responsibility, even when it was in fact his. This might lead to violent arguments, but peace was always restored. In 1954, another museum curator was attached to the museum: Poul Kjærum, who was immediately given the important task of investigating the dolmen settlement near Tustrup on Northern Djursland. This gave important results, such as the discovery of a cult house, which was a new and hitherto unknown Stone Age feature.A task which had long been on our mind s was finally carried out in 1955: constructing a new display of the museum collections. The old exhibitio n type consisted of numerous artefacts lined up in cases, accompaied ony by a brief note of the place where it was found and the type – which was the standard then. This type of exhibition did not give much idea of life in prehistoric times.We wanted to allow the finds to speak for themselves via the way that they were arranged, and with the aid of models, photos and drawings. We couldn’t do without texts, but these could be short, as people would understand more by just looking at the exhibits. Glob was in the Gulf at the time, so Kjærum and I performed the task with little money but with competent practical help from conservator Kornbak. We shared the work, but in fairness I must add that my part, which included the new lllerup find, was more suitable for an untraditional display. In order to illustrate the confusion of the sacrificial site, the numerous bent swords and other weapons were scattered a.long the back wall of the exhibition hall, above a bog land scape painted by Emil Gregersen. A peat column with inlaid slides illustrated the gradual change from prehistoric lake to bog, while a free-standing exhibition case held a horse’s skeleton with a broken skull, accompanied by sacrificial offerings. A model of the Nydam boat with all its oars sticking out hung from the ceiling, as did the fine copy of the Gundestrup vessel, as the Braa vessel had not yet been preserved. The rich pictorial decoration of the vessel’s inner plates was exhibited in its own case underneath. This was an exhibition form that differed considerably from all other Danish exhibitions of the time, and it quickly set a fashion. We awaited Glob’s homecoming with anticipation – if it wasn’t his exhibition it was still made in his spirit. We hoped that he would be surprised – and he was.The museum was thus taking shape. Its few employees included Jytte Ræbild, who held a key position as a secretary, and a growing number of archaeology students who took part in the work in various ways during these first years. Later, the number of employees grew to include the aforementioned excavation pioneer Georg Kunwald, and Hellmuth Andersen and Hans Jørgen Madsen, whose research into the past of Aarhus, and later into Danevirke is known to many, and also the ethnographer Klaus Ferdinand. And now Moesgaard appeared on the horizon. It was of course Glob’s idea to move everything to a manor near Aarhus – he had been fantasising about this from his first Aarhus days, and no one had raised any objections. Now there was a chance of fulfilling the dream, although the actual realisation was still a difficult task.During all this, the Jutland Archaeological Society thrived and attracted more members than expected. Local branches were founded in several towns, summer trips were arranged and a ”Worsaae Medal” was occasionally donated to persons who had deserved it from an archaeological perspective. Kuml came out regularly with contributions from museum people and the like-minded. The publication had a form that appealed to an inner circle of people interested in archaeology. This was the intention, and this is how it should be. But in my opinion this was not quite enough. We also needed a publication that would cater to a wider public and that followed the same basic ideas as the new exhibition.I imagined a booklet, which – without over-popularsing – would address not only the professional and amateur archaeologist but also anyone else interested in the past. The result was Skalk, which (being a branch of the society) published its fir t issue in the spring of 1957. It was a somewhat daring venture, as the financial base was weak and I had no knowledge of how to run a magazine. However, both finances and experience grew with the number of subscribers – and faster than expected, too. Skalk must have met an unsatisfied need, and this we exploited to the best of our ability with various cheap advertisements. The original idea was to deal only with prehistoric and medieval archaeology, but the historians also wanted to contribute, and not just the digging kind. They were given permission, and so the topic of the magazine ended up being Denmark’s past from the time of its first inhabitant s until the times remembered by the oldest of us – with the odd sideways leap to other subjects. It would be impossible to claim that Skalk was at the top of Glob’s wish list, but he liked it and supported the idea in every way. The keeper of national antiquities, Johannes Brøndsted, did the same, and no doubt his unreserved approval of the magazine contributed to its quick growth. Not all authors found it easy to give up technical language and express themselves in everyday Danish, but the new style was quickly accepted. Ofcourse the obligations of the magazine work were also sometimes annoying. One example from the diary: ”S. had promised to write an article, but it was overdue. We agreed to a final deadline and when that was overdue I phoned again and was told that the author had gone to Switzerland. My hair turned grey overnight.” These things happened, but in this particular case there was a happy ending. Another academic promised me three pages about an excavation, but delivered ten. As it happened, I only shortened his production by a third.The 1960s brought great changes. After careful consideration, Glob left us to become the keeper of national antiquities. One important reason for his hesitation was of course Moesgaard, which he missed out on – the transfer was almost settled. This was a great loss to the Aarhus museum and perhaps to Glob, too, as life granted him much greater opportunities for development.” I am not the type to regret things,” he later stated, and hopefully this was true. And I had to choose between the museum and Skalk – the work with the magazine had become too timeconsuming for the two jobs to be combined. Skalk won, and I can truthfully say that I have never looked back. The magazine grew quickly, and happy years followed. My resignation from the museum also meant that Skalk was disengaged from the Jutland Archaeological Society, but a close connection remained with both the museum and the society.What has been described here all happened when the museum world was at the parting of the ways. It was a time of innovation, and it is my opinion that we at the Prehistoric Museum contributed to that change in various ways.The new Museum Act of 1958 gave impetus to the study of the past. The number of archaeology students in creased tremendously, and new techniques brought new possibilities that the discussion club of the 1940s had not even dreamt of, but which have helped to make some of the visions from back then come true. Public in terest in archaeology and history is still avid, although to my regret, the ahistorical 1960s and 1970s did put a damper on it.Glob is greatly missed; not many of his kind are born nowadays. He had, so to say, great virtues and great fault s, but could we have done without either? It is due to him that we have the Jutland Archaeological Society, which has no w existed for half a century. Congr tulat ion s to the Society, from your offspring Skalk.Harald AndersenSkalk MagazineTranslated by Annette Lerche Trolle

During the occupation of the Netherlands, the Jewish population was systematically robbed and deprived of their property rights. Their economic and social isolation went hand in hand with a loss of social status, connectedness, security and identity, as homes were expropriated and furniture was confiscated. The process of depriving the Jews of everything they owned, which happened with such apparent ease by the seemingly all-powerful authorities, had a profound impact on the victims that went far beyond mere material loss. Furthermore, after the war, the restitution process confronted the survivors with bureaucratic procedures and formalities that evoked negative feelings among the persecuted victims. A strictly quantitative approach to compensation for the loss of furniture and other household items therefore seems to fall short. The view of loss as something that can be compensated with money does not take into account the psychological aspects of losing those personal possessions. This article pleads for a more qualitative approach to the subject of looting and restitution, free from the limitations imposed by the quantitative scope of official archives. The authors suggest that future research should relate more to the link between ‘dignity taking’ – a term that was coined by Bernadette Atuahene, professor of Law in Chicago – and ‘emotional loss’. Looking into property loss from an emotional perspective will teach us more about the fragility of settledness against the backdrop of occupation and persecution.

Kinodriften i Norge 1940–1945 var preget av nye politiske omstendigheter. I artikkelen utforskes spørsmålet om hvordan kinobransjens autonomi ble påvirket av den tyske okkupasjonen og NS’ forsøk på å gjennomføre nasjonalsosialistisk revolusjon. Arbeidshverdagen i kinobransjen ble sterkt påvirket av politiske utskiftninger og innføringen av nye institusjoner som hadde til hensikt å gjennomføre en omfattende reorganisering av hele film- og kinofeltet.Ideologisk påtrykk og politisk press fra tyske og norske aktører rundt programoppsetningen var et særtrekk. Krigssituasjonen skapte også generelt en del praktiske utfordringer. Det var likevel ikke slik at presset og hindringene for normal kinodrift var konstant eller like stort overalt. Artikkelen viser hvordan kinoene i Norge ble påvirket og rammet forskjellig, blant annet ut fra hva slags type kino det var snakk om.Ettersom kinoene ble forsøkt brukt som propagandakanal for den tyske okkupanten og NS, ble kinoene også et sted for «demonstrasjoner». Både tyske og norske myndigheter var klar over sprengkraften som lå i denne formen for hverdagsmotstand, og forsøkte å forebygge gjennom ulike tiltak.Dette førte til at de kinoansatte befant seg i et krysspress. Ved noen kinoer valgte ledelsen frivillig samarbeid med de nye kinomyndighetene. Ved andre kinoer valgte ledelsen en motstandsholdning. Men ved de aller fleste kinoene ble det staket ut en tilpasningskurs.Statens filmdirektorat hadde høye ambisjoner om total omlegging av det norske kinosystemet. Dette handlet ikke bare om ideologisk betingede målsetninger, men også om bransjespesifikk reformpolitikk. Artikkelen foreslår å se okkupasjonsperioden ikke som en parentes eller som en unntaksperiode i norsk film- og kinohistorie, men understreker kontinuitetstrekk mellom perioden før, under og etter andre verdenskrig. NS’ utskjelte film- og kinopolitikk la på mange områder grunnlaget for politikken på dette feltet etter 1945. Cinema in Norway from 1940 to 1945 was characterized by new political circumstances. This article explores the question of how the autonomy of the cinema industry was influenced by the German occupation and the attempt of Nasjonal Samling (NS) to implement a national socialist revolution. Cinemas were heavily influenced by political replacement of key personnel and the introduction of new institutions intended to undertake a comprehensive reorganization of the entire film and cinema field.Ideological pressure and political pressure from German officers and Norwegian officials and propagandists, was a distinctive feature. However, the political pressure and the practical obstacles were neither constant nor similar across the country. The article shows how different types of cinemas in Norway were affected in different ways.As cinema was used as a propaganda vehicle for the German occupier and NS, the cinemas also became a place of everyday resistance and organized civil resistance. “Demonstrations" in the cinemas were widespread.The cinema staff were in the line of fire, between intersecting demands, interests and expectations. At some cinemas, the management chose eager cooperation with the new cinema authorities. At other cinemas, the management chose resistance. However, most cinemas adapted professionally to the new laws of cinema politics.The Norwegian Film Directorate had high ambitions for a total restructuring of the Norwegian cinema system. This was not just about ideologically determined goals, but also about reform policies. The article suggests that the occupation period was neither a parenthesis nor an exceptional case in Norwegian media history, and accentuates several features of continuity before, during and after the occupation years. The scorned film and cinema politics advocated by the new regime during the occupation laid the foundation for government policy in the same areas after 1945.