Статті в журналах з теми "Economics, 1929-1931"

Abstract Sraffa’s diaries report that from June 1929 until late 1932 he often met with the literary scholar, poet and philosopher Raffaello Piccoli, Professor of Italian in the University of Cambridge. After a brief biographical sketch of Piccoli, the paper reconstructs the story of their friendship, thus contributing to the reconstruction of Sraffa’s biography in 1929–1932. It also considers their meetings with Carlo Rosselli in 1929–1931, together with their common friendship with Ludwig Wittgenstein.

Bank failures in Chicago during 1930–1932 are examined to determine whether failures were attributable to poor management practices or to worsening economic conditions. Non-Loop state-chartered banks were divided into those which did not fail and those which failed in 1930, 1931, and 1932. Portfolio variables which contemporary writers held were indicative of poor management practices are used in a multiple discriminant analysis. Using semiannual bank call reports from December 1927 through December 1929, support was found for the poor management hypothesis only for banks destined to fail in 1931

The 1933 Ukrainian famine killed as many as 2.6 million people out of a population of 32 million. Historians offer three main explanations: weather, economic policies, genocide. This paper documents that (1) available data do not support weather as the main explanation: 1931 and 1932 weather predicts harvest roughly equal to the 1924–1929 average; weather explains up to 8.1 percent of excess deaths. (2) Policies (collectivization of agriculture and the lack of favored industries) significantly increased famine mortality; collectivization explains up to 52 percent of excess deaths. (3) There is some evidence that ethnic Ukrainians and Germans were discriminated against.

Este artículo analiza los orígenes y desarrollo del Departamento de Turismo, creado durante la administración de Carlos Ibáñez del Campo (1927-1931). Dependiente del Ministerio de Fomento y originado en el marco de la Ley de Fomento al Turismo de 1929, sus competencias se orientaron a la promoción e inspección de las actividades turísticas. Se argumenta que la creación de dicho departamento se enmarca en una visión estratégica del Estado de Chile en cuanto a comprender el turismo como una actividad económica fundamental, vehículo de la modernización del país y fuente de ingresos para el fisco.

Wassily Leontief jun. (1905–1999) moved to Berlin in April 1925 after getting his first academic degree from the University of Leningrad. In Berlin he mainly studied with Werner Sombart and Ladislaus von Bortkiewicz who were the referees of his Ph.D. thesis “The economy as a circular flow” (1928). From spring 1927 until April 1931 Leontief was a member of the research staff at the Kiel Institute of World Economics, interrupted by the period from April 1929 to March 1930 when he was an advisor to the Chinese Ministry of Railroads. In the journal of the Kiel Institute, Weltwirtschaftliches Archiv, Leontief had already published his first article “Die Bilanz der russischen Volkswirtschaft. Eine methodologische Untersuchung” [The balance of the Russian economy. A methodological investigation] in 1925. In Kiel Leontief primarily worked on the statistical analysis of supply and demand curves. Leontief’s method triggered a fierce critique by Ragnar Frisch, which launched a heavy debate on “pitfalls” in the construction of supply and demand curves. The debate started in Germany but was continued in the USA where Leontief became a researcher at the National Bureau of Economic Research (NBER) in summer 1931. The Leontief–Frisch controversy culminated in the Quarterly Journal of Economics (1934), published by Harvard University, where Leontief made his subsequent career from 1932–1975. His later analysis of the employment consequences of technological change in the 1980s had some roots in his Kiel period.

Abstract The article offers the first comprehensive account of relations between Germany and Switzerland in the years 1919 to 1931 based on archival sources from both countries. Emphasising the interaction between finance and diplomacy, it provides new insights into the role played by the Swiss offshore centre for the German Reich after the First World War. During the inflationist period of 1919‒1923, as well as in the crisis of 1929‒1931, Switzerland, like the Netherlands, welcomed a huge amount of wealth from Germany while at the same time becoming an important creditor of the Reich. These developments had a significant impact on German internal and foreign policies at the time. Nevertheless, the article article argues that, despite the intensity of financial flows, Switzerland pursued a diplomatic course that was more plurilateral than the Netherlands. Even during the second part of the 1920s, when Swiss capital was placed on the German market in massive dimensions, there was no German orientation in Swiss foreign policy similar to what had happened in the years before the First World War. Switzerland’s foreign relations became more neutral during the 1920s. This article consequently proposes a nuanced perspective on the role of the small European countries in German foreign policy, highlighting the need to differentiate between them in spite of their common features and to consider, in a non-deterministic way, the interaction between finance and diplomacy.

We examine the income of older men in London around 1930, based on a large sample. The income of nonworking older men was substantially below that of men still working. We find no evidence that retirement rates increased at the state-penionable—unsurprisingly, since pension paryments provided less than a povertyline income. Less demanding or part-time work was unavailable. Hence we conclude that the decision of older manual workers to leave the labor market was determined primarily by the absence of appropriate employment opportunities, rather than the presence of substantial assets or nonlabor income.

The world-wide economic depression of 1929-1934 also bore down heavily on small-town financial institutions. A case in point was that of the Graaff-Reinet Board of Executors (established 1856) and the Midland Agency and Trust Company of Graaff-Reinet. A severe blow to their financial viability had been Great Britain's going off the gold standard on 21 September 1931. The Midland Agency was able to survive but the Board of Executors collapsed - the first such instance in South Africa during the great depression. It closed its doors on 20 October 1931 and was thereafter placed under judicial management. One result of this collapse was the introduction of the Companies Amendment Bill into the 1932 parliamentary session by Dr K. Bremer, MP for Graaff-Reinet.

Did macroconomic interventions make any contribution to Argentina's revovery from the Great Depression? Macroeconomic policy deviated from gold-standard orthodoxy after the final suspension of convertibility in 1929. Fiscal policy was conservative. Monetary policy became unorthodox after 1931, when the Caja de conversión began rediscounting to sterilize gold outflows and avoid deflation. This change predated the creation of the central bank in 1935. A wider literature links the interwar depression in the core to flaws in the gold standard, and active monetary policy to escape from defaltion and slump; our work extends this idea to the periphery.

El estudio de la economía y de la política económica durame la Segunda República sigue despertando entre nosotros un gran interés, El advenimiento del nuevo régimen coincidió con el peor año de la depresión mundial iniciada en 1929 y durante su corta existencia tuvo que sobrevivir en circunstancias económicas muy deslavorables. En sus escritos, los políticos republicanos hieieron notar este desafortunado suceso, destacando cómo la crisis internacional limitaba seriamente su capacidad de acción. Naturalmente, el adverso escenario económico de la década de 1920 hubiera tenido menor trascendencia si no hubiese sido por las exageradas expectativas de mejoras sociales y económicas que había suscitado la llegada al poder de los partidos de izauierda v de los urunos republicanos.

This article traces an intricate relationship between Mahatma Gandhi’s call for Civil Disobedience (1930–1933) and the global economic slump of the 1920s experienced by Britain and colonial India. I argue that the economic hardships faced by Indians (particularly the peasant classes) forced Gandhi to revisit his sociopolitical approach to India’s nationalist movement. Despite the chronological overlap of the Great Depression (1929–1931) with Gandhi’s Civil Disobedience Movement (1930–1933), the relation between these two major events has not been adequately explored in recent scholarship. I propose to contextualize the changes in Gandhi’s economic ideas and political strategy (often against contending ideological trends) leading to his defence of Indian peasant interests during the Gandhi–Irwin Pact and the Second Round Table Conference. Gandhi’s increasing awareness of the economic crises and Britain’s severe opposition to granting financial autonomy to India pushed Gandhi in the direction of charting a new path for economic self-reliance. This, I suggest, resulted in his nation-wide popular movement for reviving the Indian village economy in the form of the ‘Constructive Programme’ (1934–1948) in subsequent years.

El entusiasmo de César Vallejo por la Unión Soviética no solo se produce luego de su estancia en tres oportunidades: 1928, 1929 y 1931, sino que tiene el preámbulo que data de años atrás cuando le escribe a Pablo Abril de Vivero. Considerando que El tungsteno ha sido traducido y publicado en ruso, Vallejo intenta volver por cuarta vez para la presentación de sus piezas teatrales Lock-out (1930) y Presidentes de América (1934) que, en realidad, nunca se publicaron ni se representaron en escenario soviético. Su relación con la Unión Internacional de Escritores Revolucionarios, donde Fédor Kelin era su secretario, produce doce cartas en las que pueden constatarse los planes creativos, editoriales y políticos del escritor peruano, así como el pernicioso silencio de parte de su traductor ruso.

The article reveals the destruction by the Soviet command-repressive system of the economic freedoms of the Ukrainian rural producer, the prosperous peasant (kulak), a middle-class representative in the village – the guarantor of the socio-political and economic stability of the state. Since the late 1920s, a command-repressive system of governance was formed in the Ukrainian village, implemented by the Soviet communist political regime. In the context of the problem, it is important to study the dynamics of the destruction of prosperous producers (dekulakisation), which is a component of the criminal genocidal policy of the Soviet totalitarian regime against the Ukrainian nation. During 1918–1920, the Bolsheviks’ periodic invasions of Ukraine were marked by the introduction of a policy of «war communism», when «military communist» methods ensured the non-fixed collection of taxes. In March 1921, the Soviet political regime radically changed the taxation system in the village. Instead of the pre-tax system, a fixed food tax was implemented, and the New Economic Policy was introduced. The years 1928–1929 proved to be a crucial turning point in the relations between the peasant producer and the Soviet state. Since the late 1920s, an overall offensive by the Soviet political regime against the Ukrainian village affected several important segments for the village: the church, economic and political repression of the prosperous producers, forced grain procurement, and forced collectivisation. In 1929–1931, the article examines the example of the village of Zaruddia in Poltava region to demonstrate the formation of a command and repressive system of governance. In the late 1920s and early 1930s, the destruction of the spiritual, ethical, socio-economic foundations of the traditional Ukrainian peasant by the Soviet political regime is studied on a specific historical example. The Soviet political communist regime, forming a command-repressive system of governance since the late 1920s, violated human and civil rights and humiliated human dignity. Such actions caused irreparable spiritual, ethical, socio-economic damage in the traditional Ukrainian village.

The purpose of the study is to analyze in a substantive manner the circumstances in which Albanian-Italian and Albanian-Yugoslav relations have developed and in particular to reflect the causes and consequences of the Italian-Yugoslav rivalry for economic and political dominance in Albania. Although the objective and clear reflection of the Italo-Yugoslav rivalry affects the exact recognition of the specifics and challenges that these countries faced in extending their influence over Albania through the economy during the above-mentioned period. As a result of the essence of these challenges, we are able to create a clearer perspective in the development of more intensive economic and political relations between Albania and the former Kingdom of Yugoslavia, on the one hand, and Italy and the countries of the former Yugoslavia on the other. Though today Italy does not focus on the Albanian area due to the common European market, the countries of the former Kingdom of Yugoslavia continue to have tendencies for dominance in the economy of the Albanian state. The real reflection of the specifics and challenges in the period 1929-1934 and the analogy with the specifics of today, are another essential goal. Scientific novelty: it was concluded that the characteristic of the Italian-Yugoslav rivalry in the period 1929-1934 is the dominance of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia in the political and to some extent also the economic life of Albania, in particular in the years 1933-1934, although Italy was much more powerful and more present in political and economic life. But the reason for this favorable position of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia only in this period of time was the crisis in Albanian-Italian relations, as a consequence of the refusal of the Albanian side to renew the Pact of Friendship in 1931 and Italy’s request for customs union with Albania in 1932. The rivalry between these two countries was exacerbated by the geographical proximity of the two countries to Albania, and the small cost of benefits, so their interest was extremely high. Conclusions. In 1929-1934, the Kingdom of Yugoslavia and Italy had fierce competition for political and economic dominance in Albania. However, despite the temporary advantage of the first one and its constant efforts, Italy managed to be dominant and challenge its main competitor in Albania: the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. It even managed to remove Albania from Yugoslav influence, turning it in its entirety on its side. In addition to the Kingdom of Yugoslavia’s economic and military powerlessness in comparison to Italy, the Italians throughout the 1920s had invested a great deal of time and resources in establishing the state of Albania, which sought support from some power of the time, such as Italy, in its efforts to attain overall development. The political and economic life of Albania was also dominated by Italy due to its proximity to Albania and the fact that neither Greece nor the Kingdom of Yugoslavia had territorial claims towards Albania, at least not until the mid-1930s.

By the outbreak of the Second World War the ‘Land Question’ had lost its power to generate acute political controversy. Yet the issue of land reform did not disappear with the failure of the 1929–31 Labour Government to reintroduce Lloyd George's land taxes. Land reform after 1914 needs to be rescued from an over-identification with the decline of Radical Liberalism. This article will trace the way Labour Party policy developed after 1914. By 1939 it had adopted a set of policies based on the economic protection of agriculture, increased domestic production and marketing. At the same time it argued for the preservation of the countryside through land-use planning. After 1918 a long-term commitment to land nationalisation began to occupy a more important position in its land reform policies, particularly after 1931. In addition, new measures appeared on the party's political agenda for the first time, including the preservation of the countryside against urban intrusion, access to mountain and moorland, and the creation of national parks.

Purpose Originally written in the 1990s but unpublished, the paper is now revised; the purpose of this paper is to examine the context of the formation of the Educational Workers League of NSW in 1931 with particular emphasis on the NSW Crown Employees (Teachers) Conciliation Committee and the enactment of its agreement in the worsening economic conditions of the Depression. The aims, reception and possible influence of the League on Federation policy and practice are addressed. Design/methodology/approach Primary source material consulted includes the minutes of the Conciliation Committee’s sittings from September 1927 to July 1929; papers relating to the Educational Workers League held in the Teachers Federation Library; and the Teachers Federation journal, Education. Findings The Conciliation Committee’s proceedings and outcomes had far reaching implications. The resultant salary agreement received a hostile reception from assistant teachers and fuelled distrust between assistants and headmasters. As economic depression deepened, dissatisfaction with the conservative leadership and tactics of the Federation increased. One outcome was the formation of the radical, leftist Educational Workers League by teachers, including Sam Lewis, who would later play key roles within the Federation itself. Originality/value While acknowledging the extensive earlier work of Bruce Mitchell, the paper contributes to a deeper understanding of teacher unionism and teacher activism in the 1920s and 1930s. Apart from brief attention by Federation historians in the 1960s and 1970s, there has been no history of the formation, reception and significance of the Educational Workers League.

AbstractThe article examines the growing radicalization of the Marxist anti-Islamic discourse in the USSR as a case-study of "Soviet Orientalism". To which of Marx's five socio-economic formations should Muslim society be assigned? During the relatively pluralistic period of the New Economic Policy (1921-1927) Marxist scholars offered various answers. Many argued that Islam emerged from the trading community of Mecca and was trade-capitalist by nature (M. Reisner, E. Beliaev, L. Klimovich). Others held that Islam reflected the interests of the agriculturalists of Medina (M. Tomara), or of the Bedouin nomads (V. Ditiakin, S. Asfendiarov); and some even detected communist elements in Islam (Z. and D. Navshirvanov). All authors found support in the Qur'ān and works of Western Orientalists. By the late 1920s Marx' and Engels' scattered statements on Islam became central in the discourse, and in 1930 Liutsian Klimovich rejected the Qur'ān altogether by arguing that the book, as well as Muhammad himself, were mere inventions of later times. By the end of the Cultural Revolution (1929-1931) it was finally "established" that Islam was "feudal" in character, and critical studies of Islam became impossible for decades. The "feudal" interpretation legitimized the Soviet attack on Islam and Muslim societies at that time; but also many of the Marxist writers on Islam perished in Stalin's Terror. We suggest that the harsh polemics the authors directed against each other in the discourse contributed to their later repression. By lending itself to the interests of the totalitarian state, Soviet Marxist Islamology committed suicide—the ultimate form of "Orientalism".

The Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes was created on December 1, 1918 by proclamation of Regent Alexander I Karadjordjevic. The most important step regarding the organization of the newly formed state was the adoption of the constitution. The first constitution of the newly formed state was adopted on June 28, 1921, and in science it is usually called the Vidovdan Constitution. Due to a series of internal problems, on January 6, 1929, the king suspended the Vidovdan Constitution, dissolved the assembly and banned the work of political parties, and justified the coup by the highest national and state interests. The transition to an open dictatorship did not solve any of the political, economic, or national problems that led to the crisis. Despite the fact that the king announced his return to the constitutional order as soon as possible, this would happen only after two years. With the enactment of the constitution on September 3, 1931, there was no democratization of Yugoslav society, but the king’s open dictatorship was replaced by a constitutional one. The existence of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes/Yugoslavia in the period 1918–1941 in a political sense, was marked by the changes of a covert and open dictatorship, whereby the proclaimed democratic rights and freedoms represented only a show for the public. Through the paper, the author will analyze those constitutional provisions and the king’s actions that indicate this.

The Great Depression of 1929-33 had serious consequences on Hungary’s economy. The Central and Eastern European countries, including Hungary were hit severely by the downturn of the wholesale prices as regards of agricultural products in international markets. Besides declining prices another major problem was that the industrialised countries introduced protectionist measures (customs duties and quotas). As a result of this process, market opportunities were constrained and later ceased to exist. The situation was further aggravated by the fact that the unfavourable gap between agrarian and industrial prices further widened in the 1920s. Although the crisis started to emerge in the agriculture, its effects were extended to the industry as well. Due to the lack of safe markets, heavy industrial branches declined sharply, whereas the volume of output fell modest in the light industry. The bankruptcy of the Austrian Credit Anstalt on 12th Mai 1931 adversely affected Hungary’s financial system. In order to overcome the difficulties, banking holiday was ordered by the government, which coupled with the suspension of all payments and the introduction of foreign exchange control. Foreign trade has changed significantly. In 1937, the share of Hungary’s export in Germany’s trade was 42 percent, which increased to more than 50 percent after the Anschluss. Thus, at the end of the 1930s, the Third Reich became the most important trade partner of Hungary. Thanks to favourable external conditions accompanied by the rearmament programme of Nazi Germany and state intervention, the performance of the Hungarian economy improved, and by 1937 it surpassed the pre-depression level. The Győr Programme, announced on 12th March 1938 with its military and infrastructural development contributed to the economic boom, which had positive impacts both in the heavy and light industrial branches.

Between the two World Wars, in Belgrade and Serbia, seven musical journals were published: ?Musical Gazette? (1922), ?Music? (1928-1929), ?Herald of the Musical Society Stankovic? (1928-1934, 1938-1941; renamed to ?Musical Herald? in january 1931), ?Sound? (1932-1936), ?Journal of The South Slav Choral Union? (1935-1936, 1938), ?Slavic Music? (1939-1941) and ?Music Review? (1940). The influence of marxism can be observed in ?Musical Herald? (in the series from 1938), ?Sound? and ?Slavic Music?. A Marxist influence is obvious through indications of determinism. Namely, some writers (Dragutin Colic) observed elements of musical art and its history as (indirect) consequences of sociopolitical and economic processes. Still, journals published articles of domestic and foreign authors who interpreted the relation between music, society and economy in a much more moderate and subtle manner (D.Cvetko, A.Schering). Editors and associates of these journals also had proscriptive ambitions - they recommended and even determined regulations for composers about what kind of music to write according to social goals and needs. According to tendencies in Marxism, there was a follow up of musical work in the Soviet Union. Editors tried not to be one-sided. There were writings about the USSR by left orientated associates as much as emigrants from that country, and articles of Soviet authors were translated. Also, there were critical tones about musical development in the first country of socialism. Serbian musical periodicals recognized the enormous threat from fascism. Also, there were articles about influence of Nazi ideology and dictatorship on musical prospects in Germany. Since Germany annexed Sudetenland in 1938, ?Musical Herald? expressed support to musicians and people of that friendly country by devoting the October and November 1938 issue to Czechoslovak music, along with an appropriate introduction by the editor, Stana Djuric-Klajn.

The expansion of the role of the military category, which rejects the issue of naval restrictions and looks forward to military expansion and the strengthening of naval Force, is in line with Japan’s foreign policy, which completed in the 1930s the path of its transformation into a military state with expansionist ambitions, following the Great Depression (1929-1933) and its alliance with regimes Fascism and Nazi totalitarianism in Europe, from which the Axis powers emerged on the twenty-fifth of October 1936, and Accordingly, Japan at that time constituted a serious threat to the liberal economic and political systems. The research was set chronologically in the years (1931-1939), as the first date represented the beginning of the escalation of Japanese militarism in a clear manner following the convening of the first London Naval Conference in 1930, while the second date represented the outbreak of the Second World War, which represented an important historical turning point in which Japan sought through its Force the Navy to confirm its active role on the scene of events. In light of this, the research traced the steps of the Japanese government in supporting its military institutions, especially the navy, by adopting a set of building, expansion and development programs until its participation in the Second London Naval Conference in 1935 and its role in it, then its militarism Rise for the years (1936-1939), which was appear in Its occupation by China in 1937, Based on its conviction that Britain and France were unable to confront it under their suffering from the consequences of the Great Depression on the one hand, and the commitment of the United States of America to the laws of neutrality that did not allow it to intervene militarily in international problems on the other hand until 1939

The 1932–1933 Holodomor genocide caused a significant reduction of the population and distorted the main parameters of the country’s demographic stability. To analyze the changes in the population by the longitudinal analysis method, the survival rates are calculated for age groups of the population in the intercensal periods. Calculations based on the data of 1926 and 1939 censuses show substantial inconsistencies in the survival rate for five female age groups within the range of 33-57 years old. Despite the 1932–1933 demographic catastrophe and taking into account the natural mortality before and after the Holodomor, the number of people in these age categories changed slightly and even increased for the 43-47 category. The authors prove that migration in the intercensal period couldn’t have caused such growth, and the calculated coefficients confirm the questionable quality of the 1939 census. The paper reveals that the first stage of demographic transition should have been in 1932–1933, yet historical-political and socio-economic conditions of demographic reproduction aggravated considerably in early 1930. The recovery of the high birth rate in 1937–1938 shows that the first stage of demographic transition wasn’t finalized. Calculation of the number of women in the most active childbirth age and analysis of birth rate for 1924–1929 shows that in 1930–1933, the birth rate should have increased. The calculated indirect demographic losses account 310,000-430,000 annually for 1930, 1931, 1937, and 1938, and from 630,000 to 1 million for 1932–1936. Such insignificant volume of indirect losses substantially reduced demographic stability, in the first place of Ukrainian village. The incomplete and questionable nature of demographic data after 1932 does not allow complete reconstruction of the demographic reproduction processes in the USSR in the 1930s. Archive data on the natural movement of the population on lover administrative-territorial levels, current statistical recordings, and recordings of the civil status acts on birth and mortality, etc. can be the perspective sources of demographic information.

The research centers upon the bibliographical study of the history (1991–2017) and prehistory (1957–1990) of M. M. Prishvin’s «Diaries» (1905–1954) publication recognized as the longest (18 volumes) diaries in Russian literature. In modern science Prishvin’s «Diaries» are studied in a number of aspects: as a historical and cultural chron­icle of the country in 1905–1954; the writer’s self-consciousness and creative laboratory; a fiction text in the system of its motives, literary and philosophical contexts, as well as from the point of view of its publishing fate which is narrowly understood as a fragmentary history of its publication. The paper novelty is due to, first, reconstruction of the history and prehistory of the «Diaries» publication, and second, the system analysis of the publication history in connection with the changing economic models of publishing business, types of publishing houses, their repertoire, strategies, and features of the editorial work during the publication of the collected works. Moreover, the author distinguishes three types of ego-texts in Prishvin’s works (sketch books, diary, and diary books) and, accordingly, different publication strategies. The study reveals that within the prehistory of the «Diaries» publication there were two main approaches to their publishing: first, they were published in shortened versions (1986); second, in fragmentary versions based on the thematic or chronological principle, most often in a journal variant. Prishvin’s «Diaries» are considered in the context of the writer’s whole collected works: the pre-Soviet («Znanie Publishing House», 1912–1914) and the Soviet («Gosizdat», 1927–1930, 1929–1931; «Goslitizdat», 1935–1939; «Khudozhestvennaya literature», 1982–1986) periods. The history of Prishvin’s «Diaries» publication in the post-Soviet period is described as a collective book project carried out by the efforts of five state and non-state publishing houses: «Moskovskii Rabochii» (1991–1995), «Russkaya kniga» (1999–2004), «ROSSPEN» (2012); «Novyi Khronograf» (2013–2014); and «Rostok» (2006–2017). The author demonstrates the «Diaries» connection with the repertoire and strategies of these publishers. After the reconstruction of the history and prehistory of Prishvin’s «Diaries» publication from the initial fragments to full print and electronic versions, the author convincingly proves that this long-term collective book project belongs to the local history of the Russian publishing industry in the XX–XXI centuries.

War reparations deeply affected international relations, and attempts were made by American economic, financial and political circles to solve this thorny problem by launch‑ ing two plans (the Dawes Plan – 1929 and the Young Plan – 1930) and by establishing a general moratorium on the payment of war reparations and debts (the Hoover Moratorium - 1931). Unfortunately, the end of the First World War did not bring the much‑desired peace to Europe, as the Versailles system soon proved ineffective and short‑sighted. On the ruins of the former Central and Eastern European empires (the German Second Reich, Austro‑Hungary – derived from the Habsburg Empire, the Ottoman Empire and the Tsarist Empire), nation states emerged or existing states, which had gained their independence some time ago and had embarked on the road to modernisation, joined their territories. Some European states adopted authoritarian or totalitarian models of government relatively early on (the Soviet Union, Italy, Turkey, Bulgaria, Poland, Hungary, Germany – now the Weimar Republic, Portugal, etc.). The great global economic crisis has led to a progressive deterioration in international relations. On the European level, a number of pressing and difficult issues have emerged: war reparations; the Austro‑German customs union or the Curtius‑Schober project: disarmament; the European Union project, etc. Of particular concern were the privileged Soviet‑German relations and the successful attempt by the Weimar Republic to achieve equal rights with other states in the field of armaments. Formed on the basis of the principle of nationalities at the end of the First World War, Greater Romania will always advocate the maintenance of the territorial status quoo and collective security, strictly respecting the Covenant of the League of Nations and building a network of agreements and treaties to defend the fundamental interests of the small and medium‑sized states of Central and Eastern Europe. Dominated by four world‑renowned diplomats (Take Ionescu, Ionel Brătianu, Nicolae Titulescu and I.G. Duca), Romanina for‑ eign policy between the wars was defined by: the decisive role played within the frame‑ work of the Little Entente; the deterioration of Romanian‑Soviet relations, generated by the dispute over Bessarabia; adherence to the Briand‑Kellogg Pact, supplemented by the Hoover‑Stimson doctrine; the strengthening of relations with Poland; the initiative to convene Balkan conferences, in order to achieve a new regional defensive alliance; the hostile reaction to the Austro‑German customs union project; the favourable attitude towards the Danube Confederation plan launched by France; the Romanian‑Hungarian confrontation in the trial of the Hungarian opthonists in Transylvania; the active involvement in the work of the Disarmament Conference; the privileged relations between Romania and France; the trade agreements and the Romanian‑German cultural relations, etc.

The beginning of the economic crisis in our country, the emergence of new elements against state security, led to the adoption in the year 1929 of the Lawfor the organization of the general state police and the Law on the organization of the rural gendarmerie. The role of policemen and gendares has intensified, both as activity and accountability. The mission of the two institutions was to ensure the maintenance of public order and security, enforcement of laws in urban and rural areas. In their jurisdiction they had: prevention of crime, investigation and prosecution of all offences provided by civil, military law, gathering of information on state security and reporting to the upper management. Regarding the police-gendarmerie relationship, very important were the Instructions of July 1930 to establish service links between the two institutions, drawn up by the General Inspectorate of Gendarmerie and approved by the Ministry of Interior. Close collaboration had to be in the interest of the service, order and public safety, without regard to other aspects. A good collaboration existed with the other local authorities. At the level of the Buzau county was constituted in the year 1931 the Administrative Cooperation Council, of which were part: the county prefect, the Chief of Police, the commander of the Legion of Gendarme, the commander of the Garrison. In the meetings were discussed the most important problems in Buzau County, as well as the measures taken. Police and gendarmerie reports record certain special events in Buzau County, such as: theft, insults, scandals, beatings, injuries, suicides, murders, accidents, fires, prunings, epidemics, disappearances, desertion, vagrancy. Measures were taken to prevent railroad attacks in order to ensure peace and public safety around the elections in order to prevent any acts of brutality on voters or supporters of one party or another. Among the powers of police and gendarmerie are the control of foreigners from towns and villages, their activity being closely supervised, and suspicious personswere banished from the country. They were checking even the Romanian citizens coming to the area, asking for information about their past from the policies of the cities where they had their last home. Police and gendarmerie received clear orders regarding the actions they had to undertake if the Communists attempted to provoke revolutionary movements and attacks against the authorities. At the same time, they informed the upper management about all meetings, congresses, meetings held in the village and the city. They reported information on how the events were, the number of participants, the people taking the floor.A number of documents deal with the legionary problem, the work carried out by the “Everything for the country“. We find that the police and gendarmerie authorities have taken repressive measures against the Legion organization. There have been searches at the home of the heads and members of the legionaries, they have confiscated weapons and various brochures, manifests. Some have been arrested, brought to military courts or been established as forced residence in other counties. Very important are the reports on the state of mind of the population, which include aspects relating to economic, social, political, minorities and religious sects. It was recorded the general dissatisfaction of the population due to the expensive clothing, footwear and food, felt in all social layers, but especially among the retired. About the minority population we learn that it consisted of: Hungarians, Bulgarians, Russians, Germans, Serbs, Polons, Turks, Greeks, Italians, Armenians, Albanians, Austrians. Among them there were people suspected of espionage. Police officers in collaboration with the Gendares played an important role in the withdrawal, control and supervision of refugees from Bessarabia and Northen Bukovina in the year 1940. For their verification, they were asked for maximum attention, some of whom may have been sent as spies. Research and supervision were difficult because of the large number of refugees and that some of them did not respect the home settlements fixed. By studying the archive documents I wanted to highlight the collaborative relations between the two structures, the cooperation missions, the formation of mixed patrols, the raids, the way to act according to the events that marked the history of Romanians.

Lozan Antlaşması’nın Türk dış ticareti üzerinde getirmiş olduğu kısıtlamaların 1929 yılı itibariyle son bulmasıyla, Cumhuriyet idaresi dış ticarette bağımsız ve etkin kararlar almış, yine aynı yıllarda Dünya Ekonomik Buhranının sebep olduğu artan dış ticaret açığını kontrol altına alacak düzenlemeleri hayata geçirmeye çalışmıştır. En önemli tedbirlerden biri de 1931’de 1873 sayılı kanunla uygulamaya konan Kontenjan Usulü’dür. Dış ticaret üzerindeki müdahaleler 1933’den 1938’e kadar ithalatın yapısı değişirken, 1930’lardan itibaren Türkiye dış ticaret fazlası vermiştir. Ancak Kontenjan ve Takas Usulü, yurtiçinde gelişmekte olan ticaret ve sanayi kesimini zarara uğratmıştır. İthalatı yapılan hammaddelerin kısıtlanmasının yanı sıra usuldeki aksaklıklar, üretimin azalması sonucunu doğurmuş, oluşan belirsizlik ortamı, ticari faaliyetlerin aksamasına sebep olmuştur. Çalışmanın amacı; 1930’lu yıllarda dış ticaret üzerindeki korumacı tedbirlerden Kontenjan ve Takas Usulü’nün, iç piyasada ticaretten sanayiye her türlü iktisadi kesim üzerindeki etkilerinin incelenmesidir. Alanyazın dışında, döneme ışık tutan süreli yayınlar ve arşiv belgelerinden faydalanılacaktır

Notwithstanding the significant advances made over the last twenty years in terms of charting and explaining the ways in which state punishment is influenced by economic and political forces, little is still known about the penal effects of conditions of economic crisis and about the role the incumbent government's political orientation plays in this regard. Because the few available studies on these questions have been preoccupied with the Anglo-American sphere and only in the context of recent decades at that, even less is known either about the implications that different types or experiences of economic crisis carry for state punishment, or about the influence exerted in this respect by government political orientations other than those found in established democracies. Irrespective of geographical or temporal scope, moreover, the impact that different extranational factors and actors may have in terms of economic, political or directly penal matters domestically remains poorly understood. With a view to helping fill these gaps in the literature, this article explores the effects on state punishment that economic crisis and government political orientation had in interaction with one another in the context of interwar Greece. Attention is first paid to various ways in which global capitalism was decisive in creating within Greece an environment conducive to increased punitiveness on the part of the state. The focus is on the economic, social and political consequences of the Wall Street crash of 1929 and Britain's exit from the gold standard in 1931, as these were exacerbated by Greece's long-term exposure to predatory lending, speculative investing and external interference in her domestic affairs in the context of engaging international capital markets. The article then proceeds to discuss how the Liberal government of 1928–1932 sought to handle the situation, particularly the approach it took towards punishment.

The numismatic collection of the Banat Museum in Timişoara includes two rare bronze medals dedicated to members of the well known Weifert family from Pančevo (Serbia). One is a medal dedicated to Ignaz Weifert on his 64th anniversary by his son Georg Weifert, crafted by the Austrian engraver Anton Schar (1845 – 1903). The second one is dedicated to Georg Weifert on his 44th anniversary, created by the Austrian engraver Franz Xaver Pawlik (1865 – 1906). They were purchased in 1907 by the Banat Museum from Fejér József, antiquarian in Budapest, for the sum of 22 crowns. The medals were given inventory numbers 731 and 732 in the old register of the collections. The medal dedicated to Ignaz Weifert (1826 – 1911) is made of bronze, patinated (55.5 mm; inventory no 136; Pl. I.1 – 2). It is generally but wrongly dated in 1870. Given the marked date (MDCCCLXX), one considers that it had been realized on the occasion of Ignaz Weifert’s 20th year of industrial activity. Actually, one thousand eight hundred seventy represents the year of establishment for the Weifert brewery in Belgrade. There are several arguments in favor of a correct dating of the coin (i.e. 1890): the age of Ignaz Weifert, marked on the obverse of the medal (LXIV), as he fulfilled 64 in the year 1890. Secondly, the medal is mentioned among the works of the engraver Anton Schar from 1890 (in the same year Schar had also realized a plaque, 136 mm in diameter, with the portrait of Ignaz Weifert). More so, Felix Milleker affirmed in his study on the Weifert family that in December 1890 Georg Weifert dedicated a medal to his father Ignaz, crafted by the Austrian engraver Anton Schar (Milleker 1925, 11).The second medal, dedicated to Georg Weifert (1850 – 1937) on his 44th anniversary is made of bronze, has 52.2 mm in diameter (inventory no 84; Pl. III.1 – 2) and was created by Franz Xaver Pawlik in 1894. The same engraver had molded a medal dedicated to Ignaz and Georg Weifert in 1903, in two variants: 25 mm and 140 mm in diameter. We know about the existence of a 25 mm medal as part of a private collection in Timişoara. Originally from north Austria, the Weiferts settled in Banat during the first half of the 18th century, initially in Vršac, where from a certain Georg Weifert (1798 – 1887) moved to Pančevo. Here he became one of the prominent local merchants and, from 1841, the owner of the brewery (established in 1722). In 1849 the elder son of Georg, Ignaz Weifert (Ignjat Vajfert in Serbian) assumed the control of the brewery, after previously following a course of beer making in Munich (Bavaria). After expansion and modernization, the family business thrived and the Weifert brewery in Pančevo became one of the most important enterprises of the kind from Banat (Pl. II.1). In 1870 Ignaz expanded the business by building a new brewery in Belgrade, first in Serbia in time, on the Smutekovac Hill (nowadays Topčider). His son, Georg Weifert (Đorđe Vajfert in Serbian) took over its control in 1872. The Weifert brewery from Pančevo remained in care of Ignaz and his son Hugo. The one to become General Governor of the National Bank of Serbia, mighty industrialist and pioneer of modern mining in Serbia, Georg Weifert (Pl. IV) was born on June 15, 1850 in Pančevo. After elementary and secondary studies in Pančevo, he studied at the Commercial School in Budapest. Between 1869 and 1872 he followed the technology courses in brew at the Agricultural School in Weihenstephan, near Munich. He was 22 when he took his father’s brewery from Belgrade, which he modernized and turn into one of the most largest and modern of its kind from the Balkans (Pl. II.2). The Weifert beer became the most sought beer in Serbia. As one of the most rich and inuential person in Serbia, he is remembered as a great philanthropist, Maecenas for numerous institutions, cultural and charitable societies. He was awarded the highest Serbian and also French, Romanian or other orders. For decades he held the most important positions in the Serbian and Yugoslav Masonic lodges. He was married to Marie Gassner but had no ospring. In 1923, on the occasion of celebrating 50 years of marriage, he financed the building of St. Ana Church in Pančevo, in memory of his mother Anna. In the same year he was elected honorary citizen of his home city. He died aged 87 on January 12, 1937, at his villa on Vojvode Putnika Street. He was buried on January 16 in the Catholic cemetery in Pančevo, left of the portal built in 1924 on his expenses. The name Weifert is also associated with the well-known numismatic collection owned by this family, of which three members were passionate collectors: Ignaz and his sons, Hugo and Georg. The one who settle the collection (around 1878) was Hugo (1852 – 1885). After his early death in 1885, aged only 33, the collection passed to his father Ignaz, who continued to gather coins. In 1911, after the death of Ignaz, the numismatic collection passed to Georg Weifert. All three of them had been members of the Numismatic Society in Vienna: Hugo from 1879, Ignaz from 1885 and Georg from 1889. Although the members of Weifert family collected all kind of Greek and Roman coins, it seems that Hugo was the one passionate for medals concerning Belgrade, Ignaz paid special attention to Viminacium issued coins while Georg was interested in 4th century AD Roman coins. The numismatic collection held antique coins: Greek, Celtic and Roman, Byzantine coins, medieval Serbian ones, taler from Central Europe, medals concerning Belgrade etc. The Republican and Imperial Roman coins dated to 1st – 5th c. AD compose the largest part of the collection, including numerous rarities. There are also Roman colonial coins issued by the cities in the Balkans, especially Viminacium and from Asia Minor. Today we hold no longer information on the ending place of these coins, except for the golden Late Roman solidi found in the spring of 1879 near Borča, that are to be considered among the most valuable pieces of the collection. The PMS COL VIM type coins, issued between 239 and 255 AD in Viminacium (today Stari Kostolac, Serbia) are also important, although the collection does not comprise the complete series and all the variants. One can notice the interest of the Weiferts in collecting this monetary type and the existence of a special relation of the Weifert family with the area of the antique Viminacium (Kostolac). The first coins that entered the Weifert collection came from this area, where Georg held a coal mine and locals often brought him coins for his collection. In two cases, both on the medal dedicated to Georg Weifert in 1894 and on the one dedicated to Ignaz and Georg Weifert in 1903 (the 25 mm variant), realized by Pawlik, there are representations of reverse type of the Roman coins of PMS COL VIM type. The Weifert numismatic collection had been aected by the turmoil of WW I. The rare golden coins held in Belgrade were saved by Georg and taken to France. The rest of the numismatic collection, held in Pančevo, was taken to Vienna by his nephew Adolf Gramberg, where from it came back in 1925, completely disorganized. Unfortunately, the collection of medieval Serbian coins and medals concerning Belgrade that could not be saved disappeared during the war. Georg Weifert donated this valuable collection holding over 14,000 antique coins to the University of Belgrade on September 9, 1923. It had been taken over only in 1929 by Professors Miloje M. Vasić and Nikola Vulić, as representatives of the University, following its arranging by Balduin Saria, custodian of the National Museum in Belgrade and Georg Elmer, a nephew of Hugo Weifert, custodian of the Numismatic Cabinet of Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna. After World War II, the Weifert numismatic collection had been handed over to the National Museum in Belgrade, where is kept today.This donation made by Georg Weifert was not a singular act. Ignaz Weifert had donated over time numerous coins, antiquities and maps to the High Gymnasium in Pančevo and the Museum in Vršac. Georg had also donated in 1931 his collection of historic documents (photographs, lithographs, plans and maps) to the City Museum of Belgrade. The medals from the collection of the Banat Museum in Timişoara dedicated to the Weiferts are a testimony for a family that played an important role in the economical history of Banat and Serbia. Its name remains associated with a beer brand especially appreciated over time and for the numismatists with one of the most important collections from the end of the 19th century and beginning of the 20th century.

It is January 1930 and the restless Southern Ocean is heaving itself up against the frozen coast of Eastern Antarctica. For hundreds of kilometres, this coastline consists entirely of ice: although Antarctica is a continent, only 2% of its surface consists of exposed rock; the rest is buried under a vast frozen mantle. But there is rock in this coastal scene: silhouetted against the glaring white of the glacial shelf, a barren island humps up out of the water. Slowly and cautiously, the Discovery approaches the island through uncharted waters; the crew’s eyes strain in the frigid air as they scour the ocean’s surface for ship-puncturing bergs. The approach to the island is difficult, but Captain Davis maintains the Discovery on its course as the wind howls in the rigging. Finally, the ship can go no further; the men lower a boat into the tossing sea. They pull hard at the oars until the boat is abreast of the island, and then they ram the bow against its icy littoral. Now one of the key moments of this exploratory expedition—officially titled the British, Australian, and New Zealand Antarctic Research Expedition (BANZARE)—is about to occur: the expedition is about to succeed in its primary spatial mission. Douglas Mawson, the Australian leader of the expedition, puts his feet onto the island and ascends to its bleak summit. There, he and his crew assemble a mound of loose stones and insert into it the flagpole they’ve carried with them across the ocean. Mawson reads an official proclamation of territorial annexation (see Bush 118-19), the photographer Frank Hurley shoots the moment on film, and one of the men hauls the Union Jack up the pole. Until the Australian Flags Act of 1953, the Union Jack retained seniority over the Australian flag. BANZARE took place before the 1931 Statute of Westminster, which gave full political and foreign policy independence to Commonwealth countries, thus Mawson claimed Antarctic space on behalf of Britain. He did so with the understanding that Britain would subsequently grant Australia title to its own Antarctican space. Britain did so in 1933. In the freezing wind, the men take off their hats, give three cheers for the King, and sing “God Save the King.” They deposit a copy of the proclamation into a metal canister and affix this to the flagpole; for a moment they admire the view. But there is little time to savour the moment, or the feeling of solid ground under their cold feet: the ship is waiting and the wind is growing in force. The men row back to the Discovery; Mawson returns to his cabin and writes up the event. A crucial moment in Antarctica’s spatial history has occurred: on what Mawson has aptly named Proclamation Island, Antarctica has been produced as Australian space. But how, exactly, does this production of Antarctica as a spatial possession work? How does this moment initiate the transformation of six million square kilometres of Antarctica—42% of the continent—into Australian space? The answer to this question lies in three separate, but articulated cultural technologies: representation, the body of the explorer, and international territorial law. When it comes to thinking about ‘turf’, Antarctica may at first seem an odd subject of analysis. Physically, Antarctica is a turfless space, an entire continent devoid of grass, plants, land-based animals, or trees. Geopolitically, Antarctica remains the only continent on which no turf wars have been fought: British and Argentinian soldiers clashed over the occupation of a Peninsular base in the Hope Bay incident of 1952 (Dodds 56), but beyond this somewhat bathetic skirmish, Antarctican space has never been the object of physical conflict. Further, as Antarctica has no indigenous human population, its space remains free of the colonial turfs of dispossession, invasion, and loss. The Antarctic Treaty of 1961 formalised Antarctica’s geopolitically turfless status, stipulating that the continent was to be used for peaceful purposes only, and stating that Antarctica was an internationally shared space of harmony and scientific goodwill. So why address Antarctican spatiality here? Two motivations underpin this article’s anatomising of Australia’s Antarctican space. First, too often Antarctica is imagined as an entirely homogeneous space: a vast white plain dotted here and there along its shifting coast by identical scientific research stations inhabited by identical bearded men. Similarly, the complexities of Antarctica’s geopolitical and legal spaces are often overlooked in favour of a vision of the continent as a site of harmonious uniformity. While it is true that the bulk of Antarctican space is ice, the assumption that its cultural spatialities are identical is far from the case: this article is part of a larger endeavour to provide a ‘thick’ description of Antarctican spatialities, one which points to the heterogeneity of cultural geographies of the polar south. The Australian polar spatiality installed by Mawson differs radically from that of, for example, Chile; in a continent governed by international consensus, it is crucial that the specific cultural geographies and spatial histories of Treaty participants be clearly understood. Second, attending to complexities of Antarctican spatiality points up the intersecting cultural technologies involved in spatial production, cultural technologies so powerful that, in the case of Antarctica, they transformed nearly half of a distant continent into Australian sovereign space. This article focuses its critical attention on three core spatialising technologies, a trinary that echoes Henri Lefebvre’s influential tripartite model of spatiality: this article attends to Australian Antarctic representation, practise, and the law. At the turn of the twentieth century, Scott, Shackleton, and Amundsen trooped over the polar plateau, and Antarctic space became a setting for symbolic Edwardian performances of heroic imperial masculinity and ‘frontier’ hardiness. At the same time, a second, less symbolic, type of Antarctican spatiality began to evolve: for the first time, Antarctica became a potential territorial possession; it became the object of expansionist geopolitics. Based in part on Scott’s expeditions, Britain declared sovereignty over an undefined area of the continent in 1908, and France declared Antarctic space its own in 1924; by the late 1920s, what John Agnew and Stuart Corbridge refer to as the nation-state ontology—that is, the belief that land should and must be divided into state-owned units—had arrived in Antarctica. What the Adelaide Advertiser’s 8 April 1929 headline referred to as “A Scramble for Antarctica” had begun. The British Imperial Conference of 1926 concluded that the entire continent should become a possession of Britain and its dominions, New Zealand and Australia (Imperial). Thus, in 1929, BANZARE set sail into the brutal Southern Ocean. Although the expedition included various scientists, its primary mission was not to observe Antarctican space, but to take possession of it: as the expedition’s instructions from Australian Prime Minister Bruce stated, BANZARE’s mission was to produce Antarctica as Empire’s—and by extension, Australia’s—sovereign space (Jacka and Jacka 251). With the moment described in the first paragraph of this article, along with four other such moments, BANZARE succeeded; just how it did so is the focus of this work. It is by now axiomatic in spatial studies that the job of imperial explorers is not to locate landforms, but to produce a discursive space. “The early travellers,” as Paul Carter notes of Australian explorers, “invented places rather than found them” (51). Numerous analytical investigations attend to the discursive power of exploration: in Australia, Carter’s Road to Botany Bay, Simon Ryan’s Cartographic Eye, Ross Gibson’s Diminishing Paradise, and Brigid Hains’s The Ice and the Inland, to name a few, lay bare the textual strategies through which the imperial annexation of “new” spaces was legitimated and enabled. Discursive territoriality was certainly a core product of BANZARE: as this article’s opening paragraph demonstrates, one of the key missions of BANZARE was not simply to perform rituals of spatial possession, but to textualise them for popular and governmental consumption. Within ten months of the expedition’s return, Hurley’s film Southward Ho! With Mawson was touring Australia. BANZARE consisted of two separate trips to Antarctica; Southward Ho! documents the first of these, while Siege of the South documents the both the first and the second, 1930-1, mission. While there is not space here to provide a detailed textual analysis of the entire film, a focus on the “Proclamation Island moment” usefully points up some of the film’s central spatialising work. Hurley situated the Proclamation Island scene at the heart of the film; the scene was so important that Hurley wished he had been able to shoot two hours of footage of Mawson’s island performance (Ayres 194). This scene in the film opens with a long shot of the land and sea around the island; a soundtrack of howling wind not only documents the brutal conditions in which the expedition worked, but also emphasises the emptiness of Antarctican space prior to its “discovery” by Mawson: in this shot, the film visually confirms Antarctica’s status as an available terra nullius awaiting cooption into Australian understanding, and into Australian national space. The film then cuts to a close-up of Mawson raising the flag; the sound of the wind disappears as Mawson begins to read the proclamation of possession. It is as if Mawson’s proclamation of possession stills the protean chaos of unclaimed Antarctic space by inviting it into the spatial order of national territory: at this moment, Antarctica’s agency is symbolically subsumed by Mawson’s acquisitive words. As the scene ends, the camera once again pans over the surrounding sea and ice scape, visually confirming the impact of Mawson’s—and the film’s—performance: all this, the shot implies, is now made meaningful; all this is now understood, recorded, and, most importantly, all this is now ours. A textual analysis of this filmic moment might identify numerous other spatialising strategies at work: its conflation of Mawson’s and the viewer’s proprietary gazes (Ryan), its invocation of the sublime, or its legitimising conflation of the ‘purity’ of the whiteness of the landscape with the whiteness of its claimants (Dyer 21). However, the spatial productivity of this moment far exceeds the discursive. What is at times frustrating about discourse analyses of spatiality is that they too often fail to articulate representation to other, equally potent, cultural technologies of spatial production. John Wylie notes that “on the whole, accounts of early twentieth-century Antarctic exploration exhibit a particular tendency to position and interpret exploratory experience in terms of self-contained discursive ensembles” (170). Despite the undisputed power of textuality, discourse alone does not, and cannot, produce a spatial possession. “Discursive and representational practices,” as Jane Jacobs observes, “are in a mutually constitutive relationship with political and economic forces” (9); spatiality, in other words, is not simply a matter of texts. In order to understand fully the process of Antarctican spatial acquisition, it is necessary to depart from tales of exploration and ships and flags, and to focus on the less visceral spatiality of international territorial law. Or, more accurately, it is necessary to address the mutual imbrication of these two articulated spatialising “domains of practice” (Dixon). The emerging field of critical legal geography is founded on the premise that legal analyses of territoriality neglect the spatial dimension of their investigations; rather than seeing the law as a means of spatial production, they position space as a neutral, universally-legible entity which is neatly governed by the “external variable” of territorial law (Blomley 28). “In the hegemonic conception of the law,” Wesley Pue argues, “the entire world is transmuted into one vast isotropic surface” (568) upon which law acts. Nicholas Blomley asserts, however, that law is not a neutral organiser of space, but rather a cultural technology of spatial production. Territorial laws, in other words, make spaces, and don’t simply govern them. When Mawson planted the flag and read the proclamation, he was producing Antarctica as a legal space as well as a discursive one. Today’s international territorial laws derive directly from European imperialism: as European empires expanded, they required a spatial system that would protect their newly-annexed lands, and thus they developed a set of laws of territorial acquisition and possession. Undergirding these laws is the ontological premise that space is divisible into state-owned sovereign units. At international law, space can be acquired by its imperial claimants in one of three main ways: through conquest, cession (treaty), or through “the discovery of terra nullius” (see Triggs 2). Antarctica and Australia remain the globe’s only significant spaces to be transformed into possessions through the last of these methods. In the spatiality of the international law of discovery, explorers are not just government employees or symbolic representatives, but vessels of enormous legal force. According to international territorial law, sovereign title to “new” territory—land defined (by Europeans) as terra nullius, or land belonging to no one—can be established through the eyes, feet, codified ritual performances, and documents of explorers. That is, once an authorised explorer—Mawson carried documents from both the Australian Prime Minister and the British King that invested his body and his texts with the power to transform land into a possession—saw land, put his foot on it, planted a flag, read a proclamation, then documented these acts in words and maps, that land became a possession. These performative rituals and their documentation activate the legal spatiality of territorial acquisition; law here is revealed as a “bundle of practices” that produce space as a possession (Ford 202). What we witness when we attend to Mawson’s island performance, then, is not merely a discursive performance, but also the transformation of Antarctica into a legal space of possession. Similarly, the films and documents generated by the expedition are more than just a “sign system of human ambition” (Tang 190), they are evidence, valid at law, of territorial possession. They are key components of Australia’s legal currency of Antarctican spatial purchase. What is of central importance here is that Mawson’s BANZARE performance on Proclamation Island is a moment in which the dryly legal, the bluntly physical, and the densely textual clearly intersect in the creation of space as a possession. Australia did not take possession of forty-two percent of Antarctica after BANZARE by law, by exploration, or by representation alone. The Australian government built its Antarctic space with letters patent and legal documents. BANZARE produced Australia’s Antarctic possession through the physical and legal rituals of flag-planting, proclamation-reading, and exploration. BANZARE further contributed to Australia’s polar empire with maps, journals, photos and films, and cadastral lists of the region’s animals, minerals, magnetic fields, and winds. The law of “discovery of terra nullius” coalesced these spaces into a territory officially designated as Australian. It is crucial to recognise that the production of nearly half of Antarctica as Australian space was, and is not a matter of discourse, of physical performance, or of law alone. Rather, these three cultural technologies of spatial production are mutually imbricated; none can function without the others, nor is one reducible to an epiphenomenon of another. To focus on the discursive products of BANZARE without attending to the expedition’s legal work not only downplays the significance of Mawson’s spatialising achievement, but also blinds us to the role that law plays in the production of space. Attending to Mawson’s Proclamation Island moment points to the unique nature of Australia’s Antarctic spatiality: unlike the US, which constructs Antarctic spatiality as entirely non-sovereign; and unlike Chile, which bases its Antarctic sovereignty claim on Papal Bulls and acts of domestic colonisation, Australian Antarctic space is a spatiality of possession, founded on a bedrock of imperial exploration, representation, and law. Seventy-four years ago, the camera whirred as a man stuck a flagpole into the bleak summit rocks of a small Antarctic island: six million square kilometres of Antarctica became, and remain, Australian space. Works Cited Agnew, John, and Stuart Corbridge. Mastering Space: Hegemony, Territory and International Political Economy. London: Routledge, 1995. Ayres, Philip. Mawson: A Life. Melbourne: Melbourne UP, 1999. Blomley, Nicholas. Law, Space, and the Geographies of Power. New York: Guilford, 1994. Bush, W. M. Antarctica and International Law: A Collection of Inter-State and National Documents. Vol. 2. London: Oceana, 1982. Carter, Paul. The Road to Botany Bay: An Essay in Spatial History. London: Faber, 1987. Dixon, Rob. Prosthetic Gods: Travel, Representation and Colonial Governance. Brisbane: UQP, 2001. Dodds, Klaus. Geopolitics in Antarctica: Views from the Southern Oceanic Rim. Chichester: Wiley, 1997. Dyer, Richard. White. London: Routledge, 1997. Ford, Richard. “Law’s Territory (A History of Jurisdiction).” The Legal Geographies Reader. Ed. Nicholas Blomley and Richard Ford. Oxford: Blackwell, 2001. 200-17. Gibson, Ross. The Diminishing Paradise: Changing Literary Perceptions of Australia. Sydney: Sirius, 1984. Hains, Brigid. The Ice and the Inland: Mawson, Flynn, and the Myth of the Frontier. Melbourne: Melbourne UP, 2002. Imperial Conference, 1926. Summary of Proceedings. London: His Majesty’s Stationary Office, 1926. Jacka, Fred, and Eleanor Jacka, eds. Mawson’s Antarctic Diaries. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1988. Jacobs, Jane. Edge of Empire: Postcolonialism and the City. London: Routledge, 1996. Pue, Wesley. “Wrestling with Law: (Geographical) Specificity versus (Legal) Abstraction.” Urban Geography 11.6 (1990): 566-85. Ryan, Simon. The Cartographic Eye: How the Explorers Saw Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1996. Tang, David. “Writing on Antarctica.” Room 5 1 (2000): 185-95. Triggs, Gillian. International Law and Australian Sovereignty in Antarctica. Sydney: Legal, 1986. Wylie, John. “Earthly Poles: The Antarctic Voyages of Scott and Amundsen.” Postcolonial Geographies. Ed Alison Blunt and Cheryl McEwan. London: Continuum, 2002. 169-83. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Collis, Christy. "Australia’s Antarctic Turf" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0403/02-feature-australia.php>. APA Style Collis, C. (2004, Mar17). Australia’s Antarctic Turf. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture,7,<http://www.media-culture.org.au/0403/02-feature australia.php>

The curtain rose. The howling of desert wind filled the performance hall in the Shanghai Grand Theatre. Into the center stage, where a scenic construction of a mountain cliff and a desert landscape was dimly lit, entered the character of the Daoist priest Wang Yuanlu (1849–1931), performed by Chen Yizong. Dressed in a worn and dusty outfit of dark blue cotton, characteristic of Daoist priests, Wang began to sweep the floor. After a few moments, he discovered a hidden chambre sealed inside one of the rock sanctuaries carved into the cliff.Signaled by the quick, crystalline, stirring wave of sound from the chimes, a melodious Chinese ocarina solo joined in slowly from the background. Astonished by thousands of Buddhist sūtra scrolls, wall paintings, and sculptures he had just accidentally discovered in the caves, Priest Wang set his broom aside and began to examine these treasures. Dawn had not yet arrived, and the desert sky was pitch-black. Priest Wang held his oil lamp high, strode rhythmically in excitement, sat crossed-legged in a meditative pose, and unfolded a scroll. The sound of the ocarina became fuller and richer and the texture of the music more complex, as several other instruments joined in.Below is the opening scene of the award-winning, theatrical dance-drama Dunhuang, My Dreamland, created by China’s state-sponsored Lanzhou Song and Dance Theatre in 2000. Figure 1a: Poster Side A of Dunhuang, My Dreamland Figure 1b: Poster Side B of Dunhuang, My DreamlandThe scene locates the dance-drama in the rock sanctuaries that today are known as the Dunhuang Mogao Caves, housing Buddhist art accumulated over a period of a thousand years, one of the best well-known UNESCO heritages on the Silk Road. Historically a frontier metropolis, Dunhuang was a strategic site along the Silk Road in northwestern China, a crossroads of trade, and a locus for religious, cultural, and intellectual influences since the Han dynasty (206 B.C.E.–220 C.E.). Travellers, especially Buddhist monks from India and central Asia, passing through Dunhuang on their way to Chang’an (present day Xi’an), China’s ancient capital, would stop to meditate in the Mogao Caves and consult manuscripts in the monastery's library. At the same time, Chinese pilgrims would travel by foot from China through central Asia to Pakistan, India, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka, playing a key role in the exchanges between ancient China and the outside world. Travellers from China would stop to acquire provisions at Dunhuang before crossing the Gobi Desert to continue on their long journey abroad. Figure 2: Dunhuang Mogao CavesThis article approaches the idea of “abroad” by examining the present-day imagination of journeys along the Silk Road—specifically, staged performances of the various Silk Road journey-themed dance-dramas sponsored by the Chinese state for enhancing its cultural and foreign policies since the 1970s (Kuang).As ethnomusicologists have demonstrated, musicians, choreographers, and playwrights often utilise historical materials in their performances to construct connections between the past and the present (Bohlman; Herzfeld; Lam; Rees; Shelemay; Tuohy; Wade; Yung: Rawski; Watson). The ancient Silk Road, which linked the Mediterranean coast with central China and beyond, via oasis towns such as Samarkand, has long been associated with the concept of “journeying abroad.” Journeys to distant, foreign lands and encounters of unknown, mysterious cultures along the Silk Road have been documented in historical records, such as A Record of Buddhist Kingdoms (Faxian) and The Great Tang Records on the Western Regions (Xuanzang), and illustrated in classical literature, such as The Travels of Marco Polo (Polo) and the 16th century Chinese novel Journey to the West (Wu). These journeys—coming and going from multiple directions and to different destinations—have inspired contemporary staged performance for audiences around the globe.Home and Abroad: Dunhuang and the Silk RoadDunhuang, My Dreamland (2000), the contemporary dance-drama, staged the journey of a young pilgrim painter travelling from Chang’an to a land of the unfamiliar and beyond borders, in search for the arts that have inspired him. Figure 3: A scene from Dunhuang, My Dreamland showing the young pilgrim painter in the Gobi Desert on the ancient Silk RoadFar from his home, he ended his journey in Dunhuang, historically considered the northwestern periphery of China, well beyond Yangguan and Yumenguan, the bordering passes that separate China and foreign lands. Later scenes in Dunhuang, My Dreamland, portrayed through multiethnic music and dances, the dynamic interactions among merchants, cultural and religious envoys, warriors, and politicians that were making their own journey from abroad to China. The theatrical dance-drama presents a historically inspired, re-imagined vision of both “home” and “abroad” to its audiences as they watch the young painter travel along the Silk Road, across the Gobi Desert, arriving at his own ideal, artistic “homeland”, the Dunhuang Mogao Caves. Since his journey is ultimately a spiritual one, the conceptualisation of travelling “abroad” could also be perceived as “a journey home.”Staged more than four hundred times since it premiered in Beijing in April 2000, Dunhuang, My Dreamland is one of the top ten titles in China’s National Stage Project and one of the most successful theatrical dance-dramas ever produced in China. With revenue of more than thirty million renminbi (RMB), it ranks as the most profitable theatrical dance-drama ever produced in China, with a preproduction cost of six million RMB. The production team receives financial support from China’s Ministry of Culture for its “distinctive ethnic features,” and its “aim to promote traditional Chinese culture,” according to Xu Rong, an official in the Cultural Industry Department of the Ministry. Labeled an outstanding dance-drama of the Chinese nation, it aims to present domestic and international audiences with a vision of China as a historically multifaceted and cosmopolitan nation that has been in close contact with the outside world through the ancient Silk Road. Its production company has been on tour in selected cities throughout China and in countries abroad, including Austria, Spain, and France, literarily making the young pilgrim painter’s “journey along the Silk Road” a new journey abroad, off stage and in reality.Dunhuang, My Dreamland was not the first, nor is it the last, staged performances that portrays the Chinese re-imagination of “journeying abroad” along the ancient Silk Road. It was created as one of many versions of Dunhuang bihua yuewu, a genre of music, dance, and dramatic performances created in the early twentieth century and based primarily on artifacts excavated from the Mogao Caves (Kuang). “The Mogao Caves are the greatest repository of early Chinese art,” states Mimi Gates, who works to increase public awareness of the UNESCO site and raise funds toward its conservation. “Located on the Chinese end of the Silk Road, it also is the place where many cultures of the world intersected with one another, so you have Greek and Roman, Persian and Middle Eastern, Indian and Chinese cultures, all interacting. Given the nature of our world today, it is all very relevant” (Pollack). As an expressive art form, this genre has been thriving since the late 1970s contributing to the global imagination of China’s “Silk Road journeys abroad” long before Dunhuang, My Dreamland achieved its domestic and international fame. For instance, in 2004, The Thousand-Handed and Thousand-Eyed Avalokiteśvara—one of the most representative (and well-known) Dunhuang bihua yuewu programs—was staged as a part of the cultural program during the Paralympic Games in Athens, Greece. This performance, as well as other Dunhuang bihua yuewu dance programs was the perfect embodiment of a foreign religion that arrived in China from abroad and became Sinicized (Kuang). Figure 4: Mural from Dunhuang Mogao Cave No. 45A Brief History of Staging the Silk Road JourneysThe staging of the Silk Road journeys abroad began in the late 1970s. Historically, the Silk Road signifies a multiethnic, cosmopolitan frontier, which underwent incessant conflicts between Chinese sovereigns and nomadic peoples (as well as between other groups), but was strongly imbued with the customs and institutions of central China (Duan, Mair, Shi, Sima). In the twentieth century, when China was no longer an empire, but had become what the early 20th-century reformer Liang Qichao (1873–1929) called “a nation among nations,” the long history of the Silk Road and the colourful, legendary journeys abroad became instrumental in the formation of a modern Chinese nation of unified diversity rooted in an ancient cosmopolitan past. The staged Silk Road theme dance-dramas thus participate in this formation of the Chinese imagination of “nation” and “abroad,” as they aestheticise Chinese history and geography. History and geography—aspects commonly considered constituents of a nation as well as our conceptualisations of “abroad”—are “invariably aestheticized to a certain degree” (Bakhtin 208). Diverse historical and cultural elements from along the Silk Road come together in this performance genre, which can be considered the most representative of various possible stagings of the history and culture of the Silk Road journeys.In 1979, the Chinese state officials in Gansu Province commissioned the benchmark dance-drama Rain of Flowers along the Silk Road, a spectacular theatrical dance-drama praising the pure and noble friendship which existed between the peoples of China and other countries in the Tang dynasty (618-907 C.E.). While its plot also revolves around the Dunhuang Caves and the life of a painter, staged at one of the most critical turning points in modern Chinese history, the work as a whole aims to present the state’s intention of re-establishing diplomatic ties with the outside world after the Cultural Revolution. Unlike Dunhuang, My Dreamland, it presents a nation’s journey abroad and home. To accomplish this goal, Rain of Flowers along the Silk Road introduces the fictional character Yunus, a wealthy Persian merchant who provides the audiences a vision of the historical figure of Peroz III, the last Sassanian prince, who after the Arab conquest of Iran in 651 C.E., found refuge in China. By incorporating scenes of ethnic and folk dances, the drama then stages the journey of painter Zhang’s daughter Yingniang to Persia (present-day Iran) and later, Yunus’s journey abroad to the Tang dynasty imperial court as the Persian Empire’s envoy.Rain of Flowers along the Silk Road, since its debut at Beijing’s Great Hall of the People on the first of October 1979 and shortly after at the Theatre La Scala in Milan, has been staged in more than twenty countries and districts, including France, Italy, Japan, Thailand, Russia, Latvia, Hong Kong, Macao, Taiwan, and recently, in 2013, at the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts in New York.“The Road”: Staging the Journey TodayWithin the contemporary context of global interdependencies, performing arts have been used as strategic devices for social mobilisation and as a means to represent and perform modern national histories and foreign policies (Davis, Rees, Tian, Tuohy, Wong, David Y. H. Wu). The Silk Road has been chosen as the basis for these state-sponsored, extravagantly produced, and internationally staged contemporary dance programs. In 2008, the welcoming ceremony and artistic presentation at the Olympic Games in Beijing featured twenty apsara dancers and a Dunhuang bihua yuewu dancer with long ribbons, whose body was suspended in mid-air on a rectangular LED extension held by hundreds of performers; on the giant LED screen was a depiction of the ancient Silk Road.In March 2013, Chinese president Xi Jinping introduced the initiatives “Silk Road Economic Belt” and “21st Century Maritime Silk Road” during his journeys abroad in Kazakhstan and Indonesia. These initiatives are now referred to as “One Belt, One Road.” The State Council lists in details the policies and implementation plans for this initiative on its official web page, www.gov.cn. In April 2013, the China Institute in New York launched a yearlong celebration, starting with "Dunhuang: Buddhist Art and the Gateway of the Silk Road" with a re-creation of one of the caves and a selection of artifacts from the site. In March 2015, the National Development and Reform Commission (NDRC), China’s top economic planning agency, released a new action plan outlining key details of the “One Belt, One Road” initiative. Xi Jinping has made the program a centrepiece of both his foreign and domestic economic policies. One of the central economic strategies is to promote cultural industry that could enhance trades along the Silk Road.Encouraged by the “One Belt, One Road” policies, in March 2016, The Silk Princess premiered in Xi’an and was staged at the National Centre for the Performing Arts in Beijing the following July. While Dunhuang, My Dreamland and Rain of Flowers along the Silk Road were inspired by the Buddhist art found in Dunhuang, The Silk Princess, based on a story about a princess bringing silk and silkworm-breeding skills to the western regions of China in the Tang Dynasty (618-907) has a different historical origin. The princess's story was portrayed in a woodblock from the Tang Dynasty discovered by Sir Marc Aurel Stein, a British archaeologist during his expedition to Xinjiang (now Xinjiang Uygur autonomous region) in the early 19th century, and in a temple mural discovered during a 2002 Chinese-Japanese expedition in the Dandanwulike region. Figure 5: Poster of The Silk PrincessIn January 2016, the Shannxi Provincial Song and Dance Troupe staged The Silk Road, a new theatrical dance-drama. Unlike Dunhuang, My Dreamland, the newly staged dance-drama “centers around the ‘road’ and the deepening relationship merchants and travellers developed with it as they traveled along its course,” said Director Yang Wei during an interview with the author. According to her, the show uses seven archetypes—a traveler, a guard, a messenger, and so on—to present the stories that took place along this historic route. Unbounded by specific space or time, each of these archetypes embodies the foreign-travel experience of a different group of individuals, in a manner that may well be related to the social actors of globalised culture and of transnationalism today. Figure 6: Poster of The Silk RoadConclusionAs seen in Rain of Flowers along the Silk Road and Dunhuang, My Dreamland, staging the processes of Silk Road journeys has become a way of connecting the Chinese imagination of “home” with the Chinese imagination of “abroad.” Staging a nation’s heritage abroad on contemporary stages invites a new imagination of homeland, borders, and transnationalism. Once aestheticised through staged performances, such as that of the Dunhuang bihua yuewu, the historical and topological landscape of Dunhuang becomes a performed narrative, embodying the national heritage.The staging of Silk Road journeys continues, and is being developed into various forms, from theatrical dance-drama to digital exhibitions such as the Smithsonian’s Pure Land: Inside the Mogao Grottes at Dunhuang (Stromberg) and the Getty’s Cave Temples of Dunhuang: Buddhist Art on China's Silk Road (Sivak and Hood). They are sociocultural phenomena that emerge through interactions and negotiations among multiple actors and institutions to envision and enact a Chinese imagination of “journeying abroad” from and to the country.ReferencesBakhtin, M.M. The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays. Austin, Texas: University of Texas Press, 1982.Bohlman, Philip V. “World Music at the ‘End of History’.” Ethnomusicology 46 (2002): 1–32.Davis, Sara L.M. Song and Silence: Ethnic Revival on China’s Southwest Borders. New York: Columbia University Press, 2005.Duan, Wenjie. “The History of Conservation of Mogao Grottoes.” International Symposium on the Conservation and Restoration of Cultural Property: The Conservation of Dunhuang Mogao Grottoes and the Related Studies. Eds. Kuchitsu and Nobuaki. Tokyo: Tokyo National Research Institute of Cultural Properties, 1997. 1–8.Faxian. A Record of Buddhistic Kingdoms. Translated by James Legge. New York: Dover Publications, 1991.Herzfeld, Michael. Ours Once More: Folklore, Ideology, and the Making of Modern Greece. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1985.Kuang, Lanlan. Dunhuang bi hua yue wu: "Zhongguo jing guan" zai guo ji yu jing zhong de jian gou, chuan bo yu yi yi (Dunhuang Performing Arts: The Construction and Transmission of “China-scape” in the Global Context). Beijing: She hui ke xue wen xian chu ban she, 2016.Lam, Joseph S.C. State Sacrifice and Music in Ming China: Orthodoxy, Creativity and Expressiveness. New York: State University of New York Press, 1998.Mair, Victor. T’ang Transformation Texts: A Study of the Buddhist Contribution to the Rise of Vernacular Fiction and Drama in China. Cambridge, Mass.: Council on East Asian Studies, 1989.Pollack, Barbara. “China’s Desert Treasure.” ARTnews, December 2013. Sep. 2016 <http://www.artnews.com/2013/12/24/chinas-desert-treasure/>.Polo, Marco. The Travels of Marco Polo. Translated by Ronald Latham. Penguin Classics, 1958.Rees, Helen. Echoes of History: Naxi Music in Modern China. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000.Shelemay, Kay Kaufman. “‘Historical Ethnomusicology’: Reconstructing Falasha Liturgical History.” Ethnomusicology 24 (1980): 233–258.Shi, Weixiang. Dunhuang lishi yu mogaoku yishu yanjiu (Dunhuang History and Research on Mogao Grotto Art). Lanzhou: Gansu jiaoyu chubanshe, 2002.Sima, Guang 司马光 (1019–1086) et al., comps. Zizhi tongjian 资治通鉴 (Comprehensive Mirror for the Aid of Government). Beijing: Guji chubanshe, 1957.Sima, Qian 司马迁 (145-86? B.C.E.) et al., comps. Shiji: Dayuan liezhuan 史记: 大宛列传 (Record of the Grand Historian: The Collective Biographies of Dayuan). Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1959.Sivak, Alexandria and Amy Hood. “The Getty to Present: Cave Temples of Dunhuang: Buddhist Art on China’s Silk Road Organised in Collaboration with the Dunhuang Academy and the Dunhuang Foundation.” Getty Press Release. Sep. 2016 <http://news.getty.edu/press-materials/press-releases/cave-temples-dunhuang-buddhist-art-chinas-silk-road>.Stromberg, Joseph. “Video: Take a Virtual 3D Journey to Visit China's Caves of the Thousand Buddhas.” Smithsonian, December 2012. Sep. 2016 <http://www.smithsonianmag.com/smithsonian-institution/video-take-a-virtual-3d-journey-to-visit-chinas-caves-of-the-thousand-buddhas-150897910/?no-ist>.Tian, Qing. “Recent Trends in Buddhist Music Research in China.” British Journal of Ethnomusicology 3 (1994): 63–72.Tuohy, Sue M.C. “Imagining the Chinese Tradition: The Case of Hua’er Songs, Festivals, and Scholarship.” Ph.D. Dissertation. Indiana University, Bloomington, 1988.Wade, Bonnie C. Imaging Sound: An Ethnomusicological Study of Music, Art, and Culture in Mughal India. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998.Wong, Isabel K.F. “From Reaction to Synthesis: Chinese Musicology in the Twentieth Century.” Comparative Musicology and Anthropology of Music: Essays on the History of Ethnomusicology. Eds. Bruno Nettl and Philip V. Bohlman. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991. 37–55.Wu, Chengen. Journey to the West. Tranlsated by W.J.F. Jenner. Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 2003.Wu, David Y.H. “Chinese National Dance and the Discourse of Nationalization in Chinese Anthropology.” The Making of Anthropology in East and Southeast Asia. Eds. Shinji Yamashita, Joseph Bosco, and J.S. Eades. New York: Berghahn, 2004. 198–207.Xuanzang. The Great Tang Dynasty Record of the Western Regions. Hamburg: Numata Center for Buddhist Translation & Research, 1997.Yung, Bell, Evelyn S. Rawski, and Rubie S. Watson, eds. Harmony and Counterpoint: Ritual Music in Chinese Context. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1996.

Introduction Fashion and beauty work are a part of identity that is shaped around normative, idealised, and often gendered bodies, and this has been the subject of much academic and popular attention. While much research focusses on fashion and beauty work as a way to highlight socially desirable traits or trends, it is important to note that fashion is equally important as a tool for the concealment of a visibly stigmatised identity. For people diagnosed with a visibly disfiguring illness, fashion and makeup practices became a way to either reinforce or negotiate stigma. In particular, writing by people diagnosed with Hansen’s disease in 1930s Japan reveals the way in which fashion—in the form of clothing issued by the institution—could reinforce the stigma of their condition, whereas clothing from home, and the use of makeup, allowed for concealment of some of the visible markers of their condition. So associated is the notion of stigma with the condition of Hansen’s disease that “leprosy” or “leper” are used as pejoratives in some languages, to indicate conditions or behaviour out of line with social norms. Yet, it is only relatively recently that stigma and Hansen’s disease have been the subject of academic attention. Since Zachary Gussow’s ground-breaking 1989 work, Leprosy, Racism, and Public Health, however, Hansen’s disease stigma has been extensively studied, with much of the recent scholarship focused on visible stigma and social reintegration. That is to say, much of the attention is focussed on stigma reduction, and creating policies and awareness to decrease stigma by third parties. Few studies have focussed on the way stigma, in the case of Hansen’s disease, has been either reinforced or resisted by the people suffering from Hansen’s disease. Stigma, as “degrading marks that are affixed to particular bodies, people, conditions and places within humiliating social interactions”, serves to mark bodies as abnormal or inferior (Tyler, 8). In the words of Erving Goffman from his classic study on stigma, the term refers to a “spoiled identity,” and limited social participation (Goffman, Stigma 11-15). More recently, in her ground-breaking book Stigma: The Machinery of Inequality, Imogen Tyler argued that stigma is both socially produced and negotiated, and that just as stigma can be leveraged to control unruly bodies, so too can it be a mode of resistance for those who are living with a stigmatised condition such as Hansen’s disease, an illness that was feared because prior to the discovery of Promin in 1943 the disease was incurable. The physical signs of illness, such as deformity of the limbs and loss of hair, made this stigma unmistakable. When sufferers were subject to quarantine, fashion was used to further mark their bodies: patients in public institutions were issued standard garments that identified them as belonging to an institution. At the same time, private clothing and makeup allowed sufferers to use fashion to conceal their stigmatised condition, to fashion liminal identities that in Goffman’s terms are not yet discredited, but “discreditable”, with their stigmatised condition hidden but social exclusion eminent should their diagnosis become clear to those around them (Goffman, Stigma 16). In the works I discuss below, we can see how clothing and makeup function to both reinforce and resist stigma in the case of writers with Hansen’s disease in Japan. This article explores the way in which illness intersected with beauty, fashion, stigma, and identity in the early years of the public institutions. First, I examine how changes in beauty marked sufferers as ill, and how that marked the sufferer as excluded from society. Makeup becomes a way to mask the visible signs of illness and inhabit a liminal space between health and marked by illness. Second, I discuss clothing as part of the process of institutionalisation to examine how clothing further demarcated sufferers. For many people admitted to a public institution, the issuance of standard clothing was another form of social death. The uniform clothing and marks of illness all reinforced patient bodies as abnormal. At the same time, even as their bodies were abject, I argue here that fashion, clothing and makeup could also allow them to inhabit a liminal space, separate from sufferers with advanced physical disfigurement, and allowed them to maintain an affective connection to society. Beauty, Making Up, and Masking Stigma While the study of physical, visible stigma and its intersections with issues of identity and social control have been the subject of renewed attention in recent years, few scholars have explored the way in which makeup is part of a masking, or resistance, of stigmatised conditions. While there is some scholarship that focusses on beauty work as biopolitics, such work often focusses on contemporary, voluntary beauty work, such as cosmetic surgery or makeup (Miller; Elfving-Hwang). At the same time, recently scholars have begun to examine the ways in which ableist standards of beauty and fashion mark physical difference as abnormal, or threatening (Davidson, 1-2). In the case of Hansen’s disease sufferers, facial changes as a manifestation of a stigmatised illness were for many writers a powerful symbol of their isolation from society. Makeup and fashion within the institution became a way for sufferers to resist the stigma associated with their disease. The application of makeup was a performance that signified inclusion in society, and its neglect was symbolic of social exclusion. This is clear in writing by women diagnosed with Hansen’s disease. For example, Hayashi Yukiko (1909-1993), in 1939, wrote that the disease first manifested on her face, in the form of a small red spot under her left eye. She wrote that she used powder to cover it, suspecting what it was. The use of makeup allowed her to continue her job at the post office until, despite her use of makeup, her co-worker noticed it (Hayashi, in Uchida, Seto no Akebono 143). After her subsequent diagnosis, she quit her job and went into isolation at home. Writing of her experience of this time, she again mentions makeup: Untouched since I got sickThe makeup case gathers dustOn the corner of the shelf病みてよりふれぬがままの化粧箱ほこり積りて棚隅にあり (Uchida, Hagi no satojima 61) A second poet, Seto Senshū, expresses similar feelings of hopelessness through an evocation of makeup: The powder that has not touchedMy hands for years Comes out of the jar with a dry rustle年久しく手にふれざりし白粉のかはきて瓶にかさと音立つ (Abe 72) For both of these authors, being quarantined because of their illness meant being cut off from society, and the discontinuance of makeup application became symbolic of social exclusion, an acknowledgement of the fact that fashion as a mode of concealment is no longer necessary. For many sufferers, an early sign of the illness was a loss of eyebrows. This was in part because Hansen's disease affects the nerve endings and the skin, the illness often manifested on the face of sufferers, and marked them as targets for discrimination or loss of social status. As eyebrows were an early sign of the illness, they were a point of concern for patients. Laura Miller and Higuchi Kiyoyuki have pointed to the importance of eyebrows in beauty work in Japan dating back to the Heian period (Miller, 141; Higuchi 81-84). Eyebrows, their shape, and the cosmetics used upon them, then, are important symbols of beauty. In Hansen’s disease literature, then, references to eyebrows and makeup are often indicators of the progress of the disease and how the illness specifically impacts the identity of women. Hayashi Yukiko wrote of her eyebrows: Every morning, every morningThe cloth with which I wipe my faceComes away with my eyebrow hairMy heart sinks朝な朝な我が顔拭ふ手拭に眉毛つき来て心が沈む Difficult to see my motherGaze anxiously at my faceI look down我が顔を気づかはしげに見る母のまみは見難く面ふせにけり (Uchida 61-62) In these poems, Hayashi’s changing appearance is tied to what it means to fashion gendered beauty in Japanese society. To have eyebrows altered in a way that is recognisable as “diseased” is a significant, traumatic impairment. This trauma is made more acute by the fact that the gaze of people is now directed at her with anxiety or fear, a response to her visibly altered body. Imogen Tyler has referred to similar phenomenon as “the stigmatising gaze”, a recognition of “stigmata on the bodies” that can no longer be masked (Tyler 12). This stigma of the illness and the gaze of those around them was particularly heavy on women. Even within the sanatorium, male patients sometimes remarked on the stigmatised beauty of the female patients. Ishikawa Kō (1906-1930), a poet who lived in Kyūshū Sanatorium, hints at the futility of makeup to hide the signs of the illness: In the waiting room in the morningWith sadness, seeing the woman patient, eyes downcastEyebrows pencilled inうつむきし女患者の書き眉をかなしく見たり朝の控所に (Kawamura and Uchida 9) Here, women pencil in their eyebrows to become invisible to the stigmatising gaze, to escape notice as being disfigured even in the hospital. They use makeup to escape the gaze of others rather than attract it, as is clear in the downcast eyes. While more women write about beauty work more than men, it was not only women applying makeup or aware of the gaze of those around them. The men also used makeup to disguise the disfigurement they suffered from their illness. Hōjō Tamio (1914-1937), one of the most famous authors of literature about his experience of illness and quarantine in the Tokyo district hospital, Tama Zenshō-en, writes of protagonist Oda’s process of institutionalisation in his most famous novella, Inochi no shoya (Life’s First Night). Describing Oda’s approach to the sanatorium, Hōjō writes: One eyebrow had thinned because of his illness, and Oda had pencilled it in. When the [local village] men came up next to him, they suddenly ceased to chatter, and as they passed by, they looked with eyes full of curiosity at … Oda … . While Oda looked down silently, he keenly felt their gaze. Similarly, in a haiku Kiyokawa Hachirō describes the act of making up his eyebrows. This poem picks up the seasonal word hatsukagami), referring to the first use of the mirror in the new year: Drawing my eyebrows heavier than usualReflected in the mirror for the first time in the New Year常よりも眉濃くひけり初鏡 (Abe 72) There is a disconnect between the poetic ideas of the first makeup application of the new year and the male author pencilling in thick eyebrows. Poems such as this make clear that eyebrow makeup was a means for both men and women to conceal the effects of their disease and conceal their illness through fashioning a discreditable but not yet discredited identity. At the same time, the poems also expose the futility of using makeup to fully conceal. The poems reveal a preoccupation with what Tyler calls the stigmatising gaze, and the scrutiny of others demonstrates the limits of makeup to conceal their stigmatised identity. Clothing, Institutionalisation, Identity After the 1931 Leprosy Prevention Law, hospitals were designed to be similar to what Erving Goffman calls “total institutions” (xiii). Total institutions such as prisons are characterised by physical boundaries separating residents from the outside world, restricting contact with that outside world, and by further boundaries within the institution separating residents from staff. Many of these elements were present in Japan’s Hansen’s Disease hospitals after 1931. Entrance into the institution involved the creation, or acceptance, of a new identity and new social status. Institutionalisation for the treatment of Hansen’s disease in the 1930s included a disinfectant bath in the presence of medical professionals. As the newly admitted patient bathed, their possessions were taken for disinfection and inspection and their money was confiscated. After this, patients were then issued hospital standard kimonos: typically a plain, vertically striped (referred to as udon shima), cotton garment that marked them clearly as patients. Although the colours or patterns varied across institutions, the garment was the same for all residents, regardless of assigned sex or age (Kimono 3). This served several purposes: first, because patients themselves made and cared for all their clothing, purchasing the same fabric in bulk was economical. At the same time, wearing the same clothing also eliminated class distinctions between residents, and served to downplay the femininity of the female residents (ibid). When working with patients, nurses and doctors dressed in head-to-toe white protective robes, complete with hats, gloves, and face masks. The seriously ill residents, confined to bed, were also issued thin, white cotton sick clothes (byōi). Thus, the boundaries between the sick and the healthy were inscribed on the clothing of individuals working and living in the hospital. The issuance of institutional clothing meant a clear severance with society, and some residents felt the clothing marked them, similar to the way prisoners in jail were identified by matching, stigmatised clothing (Kimono 3). Goffman’s notion of batch living is expressed through standardised kimono as Tamae, a poet at Seishō-en, the Shikoku area institution, expresses here: At the hot water stationThe matching yukataAll hung out to dry湯の宿に揃いの浴衣干してあり (Moshiogusa 20). Figs. 1 & 2: Examples of the standard-issue wear from the 1930s. Images courtesy of the National Hansen’s Disease Museum, Tokyo, Japan. Hōjō Tamio, again in Inochi no shoya, describes the kimono. Oda first glimpses the clothing in a voyeuristic scene, as he peeps at two young women through the hedge demarcating the institution: “Looking in the direction of the sound, he saw two women on the inside of the hedge … . Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that both women were wearing short-sleeved kimonos with the same striped pattern” (Hōjō n.p.). This scene is recalled when Oda is in the bath: a nurse showed him a new kimono as she said, “When you get out, put this on please”. The kimono was of the same striped pattern he had seen the two women wearing as he watched from outside the hedge. With its light sleeves, it looked like a kimono an elementary school student might wear, and when Oda got out of the bath and put it on, he felt he cut a shabby and ludicrous figure. He kept looking down at himself. (Hōjō n.p.) For many hospital residents in the 1930s, these issued garments would be all the clothing they had. The uniform clothing of the institution served as another way to mark the illness of the wearer on the body—fashion becomes an additional mark of stigma. Indeed, in images from that time, sufferers of Hansen’s disease are immediately identifiable not only through the manifestations of the illness on their bodies but through their clothing as well. In the three images shown below, residents wearing institutionally issued kimono are immediately identifiable through their clothing, making a resident wearing what is likely a chequered, personal kimono in the final image stand out. Furthermore, the doctors are also clearly identifiable amongst them, dressed in white and covered from head to toe. Fig. 3: Men sharing tea at a work station, wearing the standard issue kimono. Image courtesy of the National Hansen’s Disease Museum, Tokyo, Japan. Fig. 4: A group of blind patients together with medical professionals. Image courtesy of the National Hansen’s Disease Museum, Tokyo, Japan. Fig. 5: Promotional postcard from Zenshō-en in the early 1930s featuring patients, medical professionals, and an officer together on the veranda of a housing ward. Image from the author’s personal collection. Yet, as can also be seen above, there was still difference in clothing within the institution. First, because all work was performed by residents of the institution, patients would wear work-appropriate clothes, such as the aprons some women wear in fig. 4. Second, as can be seen in fig. 5 in the standing figure second from right, some patients did in fact have their own clothing within the hospital. This was, as I have discussed, fashion as resistance of a stigmatised identity, but for those within the institution personal kimono was also a performance of class and connection to home through their fashion. For example, Nogiku, a writer from Seishō-en, wrote: In the package sent to meA yukata handwoven by my mother送り来し母の手織の浴衣かな (Moshiogusa, 20) A second poem from Hayashi Michiko, also from Seishō-en, expressed similar sentiments years later: This was sewn for meBy my motherWhen it was decided I would go to the leprosarium癩園に行くが決まりしわがために母縫ひくれし単衣ぞこれは (Seishō 18) For many residents, institutionalisation meant a severing of ties with their families and communities. The stigma associated with the illness meant that a family would face discrimination in work and marriage prospects if it were widely known a relative had been diagnosed with Hansen’s disease. For many other patients, even if they were undeterred by the stigma, their families could not afford to send packages or visit. The receipt of a yukata, or Japanese summer garb, or special clothing handmade by the authors’ mothers are not only fashion; they also serve as a physical representation of a continued connection to family and society outside of the institution and of the social status of the poet. The privilege of wearing private clothes in the institution, then, was a marker of both class and continued connection to society beyond the hospital. In that sense, private fashion was also a way to resist the stigma of the disease through a clear association with the uniform of the institution. Conclusion Clothing and makeup are ephemeral objects, often things that are used every day and then discarded when they are worn out or used up. They are items that people often use as routine, without thinking. The fact that writers diagnosed with Hansen’s disease traced their experiences with illness and stigma through makeup and clothing indicates the deep, symbolic meaning these items were imbued with after a diagnosis. More than a way to express oneself, or play with identities, as other contributions in this issue discuss, for people diagnosed with Hansen’s disease, makeup, and clothing became a way to use fashion as concealment, as well as a physical connection to home and social status. Makeup and clothing were a way to resist stigma and fashion to a “not-yet-discredited” identity, to conceal the markers of illness and quarantine. The importance of makeup and fashion as a mode of concealment can be seen in writing by people who experienced illness and quarantine. All translations in this article are the author’s own. Acknowledgements The research for this article was conducted with the support of Grant-in-Aid for Early-Career Scientists 20K12936. References Abe, Masako, ed. 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