Citizenship Under the Plan: Managing Migrant Worker Inclusion in Late-Soviet Moscow

In the spring of 1998, I began work on a history of air pollution control policy, focusing on new mechanisms of local control that more actively included representatives of the public. In Pittsburgh, these new possibilities for local activism had contributed to the rise of the Group Against Smog and Pollution (GASP) in 1969. When I went looking for archival documents that could explain the history, demographics, rhetoric, and strategy of this environmental advocacy group three decades later, I found only strangely scattered pieces. By the late 1990s the leadership of GASP did not know if any material had ever been donated to any local archive; they were several generations removed from the original activists, many of whom had passed on, left the cause, or moved to Florida. Over the next twelve years, I attempted to chase down the records of individuals and the group. I swooped in to claim and sort discarded garbage bags full of paper when the group moved offices, and pursued material that some activists had donated to a library (which did not have any provisions for archival storage) without the knowledge of the rest of the group's leaders (who did not know where the records had gone). The only point in time that all of the records I used to write my dissertation came together in one place, with professional archivists assessing, sorting, and organizing the material, was after I had finished the resulting book—thirteen years after the spring of 1998.1I take this experience as one piece of evidence that the archival records of environmental activism in the 1960s are only now becoming ripe for historians. After all, with the transformation in the archival status of GASP records over the last decade, I can safely say that the book I have just finished would be a very different one if I were to write it today. Simply acquiring and organizing the materials consumed most of my time in the dissertation research. Today, with the same materials now located in professionally managed archives, I could spend more time concentrating on the context in which this organization developed its political responses to changing legal and legislative opportunities. I would also have a significantly different perspective on these materials were I to encounter them as a chronologically or thematically organized set of records inside an archive. While these anecdotal observations feel logical, when I began discussing the point with other scholars I became unsatisfied with my own limited viewpoint. This article results from an attempt to test out these assumptions through journalistic interviews with archivists throughout the Mid-Atlantic region. In so doing, I hope to consider the ways that “archival power” has shaped, and will continue to direct, the future of environmental history in the Mid-Atlantic.2At this moment in the early twenty-first century, the archival records of the modern environmental movement are ripening for use, creating a unique opportunity for new work on the history of environmental politics and policy in the Mid-Atlantic region. These records can be divided into at least three categories, including the documentary evidence of government decisionmaking, the materials produced by environmental organizing in the public sphere, and the records of corporate actions and deliberations. While internal corporate records of the late twentieth century remain comparatively rare, archival records in the other two areas are evolving into a new era of availability. Just as new sources, emphases, and concerns have worked to transform the political history of the civil rights era and of the social revolutions of the long 1960s, these same forces could prompt significant change in the narrative of twentieth-century environmental history. Indeed, the future story of environmental politics and policy in the Mid-Atlantic region depends almost entirely upon the materials that are in the archives now or will be added in the years to come.3Understanding the ebb and flow of archival preservation allows us to understand both the histories that have already been written and those that might be possible only now. Along these lines, historian and theorist Michel-Rolph Trouillot has contemplated the “archival power” or ability of formal institutions to shape history in preserving it. “Archives assemble,” he writes, but “their assembly work is not limited to a more or less passive act of collecting. Rather, it is an active act of production that prepares acts for historical intelligibility.”4 Trouillot is rightly concerned about the silences produced by unquestioned reliance on the purity of historical production, but an active understanding of the process by which records come into archives can also extend our comprehension of the narratives that have, and have not, been told.In the case of environmental history, the impact of archival power on the historical narrative has created a significant silence concerning the political history of organizations and activists since the 1970s. Since a larger number of historians began writing about environmental concerns in the late twentieth century, the most attractive archival sources facing them were always about events predating the modern environmental era. The records of earlier movements and moments were always far more organized, accessible, and attractive to environmental historians than the comparatively inchoate records of the late twentieth century. This has obviously placed a constraint upon environmental history since its inception, a built-in aversion to writing the history of the politics and organizations of the modern environmental movement.However, this constraint on historical work may be changing, for three reasons. First, the records that are now becoming accessible in archives are the voluminous product of the post–World War II environmental era. The hallmarks of this period include expanding litigation and legislation, an increasing reliance on scientific expertise, and a proliferation of bureaucracies and agencies. All of these developments produced extensive documentation. New technologies of the information revolution—Xerox machines, IBM Selectric typewriters, and magnetic tapes—multiplied and expanded these sources into occasionally ridiculous mountains of jargon-filled 10,000-page reports, comprising what archivist Terry Cook has called an “avalanche of paper.”5 All of this awaits the bleary-eyed historian.Second, the material from the individuals and organizations comprising the modern environmental movement is itself just now becoming available. Apart from the bureaucratic reports of government agencies, the records of the environmental movement are more closely identified with individual activism and counterculture politics, and often consist of personal correspondence, mimeographed newsletters, and alternative newspapers that might not have made it into an archive through any official document-retention policy. Those historians who wish to work in this era must be part archivists themselves—the oral histories of the environmental actors and organizations have not necessarily been created, and many of the records of activists have yet to be guided into archives. This might mean that the political history of the modern environmental movement still awaits its scholar; it is not clear that anyone has successfully completed a synthesis of the nationwide movement based on the documentary records of environmental organizing, at least not since Sam Hays's formative Beauty, Health, and Permanence, published more than two decades ago.6Third, there is a possibility that the modern environmental era fits into a unique moment in the development of the archival materials of the twentieth century. Michael Dabrishus, one archivist interviewed for this project, called it a lens of availability, but another way to think of it is as a python that has swallowed a pig: bulging in the middle, but narrowing at either end.7 There was a proliferation in paper records appropriate for preservation after World War II, and then a post-1980s decrease in archived deliberative correspondence due to the rise of electronic media practices and the deleterious effects of open records laws. In other words, the records of the environmental era coincide with a several-decades-long bulge in useful archived materials. This is both good and bad news: there is a clear increase in bureaucratic, technocratic, and legalistic records that continues into the present, but by the 1990s any personal correspondence or reflection is less likely to be archived due to various constraints, making the signal-to-noise ratio among archived materials particularly troublesome for environmental historians.These observations concerning archives and the history of the environmental movement, of course, stem from my own experience as a researcher. However, the importance of the present moment for collecting the records of environmental activism also became apparent in interviews with archivists and librarians, as illustrated by a story from Michael Dabrishus of the University of Pittsburgh. The story concerns Wyona Coleman, an environmental activist who finished donating her materials to the archives by 2005. Dabrishus noted that these papers document a long career “committed to issues like refuse disposal [and] coal mining; [as well as her] position as a representative of the Sierra Club,” and that Coleman had been “collecting this stuff all of her adult life.” While these materials originated in decades of activism, as Dabrishus observed, Coleman is “now in her seventies or eighties and only now making the decision to conserve her collections.” Indeed, the timing of this archival donation seems to be a pattern with environmental activists. Before the institutionalized environmentalism of the 1980s, these activists often worked out of their own homes and kept their own correspondence, and it is therefore up to them to decide when or if to donate these materials.Similarly, Eben Dennis of the Maryland Historical Society observed that “there's a major problem with advocacy; those people aren't actively thinking about saving their materials,” as they are often caught up in the throes of the temporary crisis that might have brought them into environmental activism in the first place. This oversight is certainly understandable: Dennis, trained as an archivist, noted that while his own father was “general counsel for the Nature Conservancy for decades, and the basement [of his home] is filled with his papers,” it is still “ironic that I have not done anything with them.” Of course, he added, politically involved environmentalists are “very attached to [their papers] when they are active, but they're active throughout their lives, so they only come to donating the materials from earlier decades now.” Cheryl Oakes of the Forest History Society thought this timing makes sense: “that lag time—40 or 50 years—is about the time that you get for any event; it takes a while to get” any documentary records into archival institutions.There is an interestingly ambivalent story here. While some of the papers of the environmental era clearly are not making it into the archives, there are tantalizing examples of useful material for historians in the ones that are preserved. At the University of Pittsburgh's Archives of Industrial Society, the papers of the Western Pennsylvania Conservancy—a group with a hand in seemingly every regional environmental issue in the last fifty years—have only recently become fully accessioned. Similarly, John Suter of the New York State Archives reported significant success from an organized effort to encourage preservation of the records of environmental activism throughout the state, noting that the state has funded efforts “to concentrate on the Storm King controversy; that material is now all at Marist College—building it into a center of archived materials on Scenic Hudson in only the last five years.”8As a part of the same project, SUNY Albany has received funding to collect materials of local environmental organizing, resulting in significant collections from environmental activism in recent decades—for example, sizable collections of records from the Atlantic States Legal Foundation (120 cubic feet), the Citizens' Environmental Coalition (44 cf), Environmental Advocates of New York (91 cf), and New York City journalist Matthew Reiss's Urban Documentation Project (30 cf).9 At the Maryland Historical Society, the records of the turn-of-the-century Fresh Air Society of Maryland were a recent surprise donation, and were rushed to the top of the processing queue. As Eben Dennis noted, although “we have a ten to fifteen year backlog of unprocessed materials, the Fresh Air Society is a high priority because it fills an underrepresented gap in our collection.” Due to both increased donations and meaningful efforts on the part of institutions to collect environmental materials, the records of environmental activism thus might be more accessible and prominent for future scholars.Dennis's comment on the backlog of processing also indicates a complication: the moment that records of environmental activists might be coming into the archives is also a time of economic austerity for all. As Elizabeth Novara of the University of Maryland archives put it, “we have not actively been pursuing this area for numerous reasons, including reduction in staff and resources.” Similarly, Dennis noted that “at historical societies, we're chronically underfunded: we need to keep the lights on and keep patrons happy—and while we do limited outreach, we don't actively seek out collections.” This ill-timed financial pressure might make it unlikely that historical societies will be broadly successful in guiding the records of aging activists into archives at this time. Indeed, the late twentieth-century environmental movement was driven both by activists and by academics, and several archivists indicated concern that even the papers of these professionals were not being actively prepared or sought for preservation. Maryland State Archivist Ed Papenfuse lamented that “most major institutions don't pay attention to the working materials of their professors” and thus lose the opportunity to preserve the very work that takes place on their own campuses. Archival institutions are rarely top budget priorities, but the early twenty-first century is obviously a time of increased peril; it is simply ironic that records of the modern environmental movement are ripening at this precise moment.Another anecdote from my own research indicates the precarious nature of this transition period for the records of the environmental era. An important find for my project was a 1972 Allegheny County court case pitting the giant U.S. Steel Corporation against local governments and activists attempting to regulate emissions from the infamous Clairton Coke Works. However, gaining access to the primary documents in the case file was a byzantine nightmare as they were held by an obscure county row office intended to provide access for lawyers, not for historians. While I knew these papers existed, getting even a brief look at them took me years, and some scheming. I finally got a few days to read and take notes from these papers in 2009, but since then the county government office that holds them was renamed and reorganized. I recently contacted the office and have been told not only that this case file does not exist, but also that they do not track pre-1980 civil complaints, and that no files were donated to any archive. So the records related to a very important case in Pittsburgh's environmental history are missing in action. There is no guarantee that they will ever make it into an archive and every reason to think that they will not.10In comparison to Allegheny County and Pittsburgh municipal government records of the 1960s, the Pennsylvania State Archives appears quite a bit more organized, indicative of the type of state-mandated documents preservation schedule also evident in Maryland, New York, and Virginia. Nearly every public hearing on successive state environmental statutes in the last half of the twentieth century was collected in the Pennsylvania State Archives, and they preserve the names, organizations, and statements of the public in absolutely exhausting detail. While this is certainly commendable, it is also evidence of the near-overwhelming bulge in bureaucratic paper records. There are fewer records before the late twentieth-century information revolution and environmental legislation that required public hearings, produced lengthy impact statements, and spawned litigation. This mountain of useful and available paper reaches a peak by the early 1990s and then trails off. That peak is difficult for archives to handle, leading to some lag between donations and availability: the “bureaucracy of the twentieth century leads to massive collections—they take up space, and that costs money” to both process and store, Dennis explained. Because of those financial constraints, he notes, “we're still working on processing the masses of paper from the twentieth century.” John Suter from New York described how quickly these demands upon resources can appear, seemingly out of nowhere: “A few years ago, the Department of Environmental Conservation in New York moved their offices, and there was a sudden and intense interest on their part to donate materials to us.” The resulting massive donation demanded significant financial and logistical resources on very short notice.While the flood of paper records from bureaucratic sources is noticeable, the trailing-off of useful materials is also noteworthy. As Pennsylvania State Archivist David Haury said, since archivists now know that historians are interested in environmental matters, if records are not being collected “it's about business practices or electronic media.” In other words, agencies conduct a great deal of day-to-day business on email, but efforts to capture these correspondences are rarely attempted and generally difficult. Haury notes: “I think the shift became pronounced in the mid-'90s. Before then, you didn't have email—the documents were created on computers in the '80s, but then they were printed out and distributed on paper.” It is only with a 1990s-era increase in electronic-only distribution and correspondence that the paper records disappeared entirely. Archivists have been discussing this transition to what they call “born digital” records for quite some time, with both hope and trepidation. Ed Papenfuse of Maryland flatly declared the great fear of archivists and the problem for future historians: “There are no records management policies for email,” he observed, at least not in comparison to the extensive and established policies for paper records of government agencies. However, it is not just the shift to email that has had the effect of bleeding archives of significant records. As one archivist said, for currently operating government agencies, “anything that is pre-decisional or deliberative is not a public record. [Pennsylvania's] three-year-old right-to-know law excludes those, and requires access only to the final policy or action.” In other words, archives in the new century might lose the ability to preserve records that will be of particular use to historians of environmental politics and policy, even as the quantity of all archived materials increases.11This structuring of the archives does not change the fact that environmental topics are very much on the minds of individuals working in primary sources at this very moment. One Pennsylvania archivist noted that “we are totally inundated with researchers … interested in Marcellus shale—we have people going through William records to out for have been in our papers for looking to out rights Michael Dabrishus that like just this year to us some of their which had been kept new sources on are becoming including records on the of the History in Pittsburgh another transition in archives that will future noting that archivists are currently working to and records that might be of interest to environmental historians. used the records of the Allegheny on a business as an say that there an environmental the … been as an and so those not find it. this is a an environmental historian know said, the of to the as archivists what is already these collections might on the of environmental understand the likely impact of these ripening archives on future it is to consider the of the project of writing a political history of the modern environmental era. Hays's Beauty, Health, and is the work in the of the environmental politics of the late twentieth century, but its and archival can also us to understand the future of the It is a historians that Hays's in that work was to to the and of every environmental organization throughout the from the late on, and to use these sources to environmental and When he made for those to be in the University of Pittsburgh's archives, a for an expanding related to environmental history. It is to that Beauty, Health, and Permanence, which came out of a personal of future work will be based on materials organized and made accessible by That is to and future histories of the environmental movement will be based on archival much that has come and it is likely that the in sources will in new and concerns in the transformation is The of the records of twentieth-century organizations, and environmental activists is in the of the Environmental The Forest History Society a of environmental and are reported in the The Forest History Society notes both when archival collections of environmental concern are being made and also when are being as being of interest to environmental Since the is created by scholars who the available materials of archives, these occasionally collections.” As Cheryl Oakes of the Forest History Society noted, “it's one of the that we continue to at the archival because we always the even if the did These might continue to be by the archives even after the Forest History Society them the don't know that we're this to observed how scholars these materials, it is clear that increasing of records from recent environmental activism are becoming in the issue the archival noted the New York State recently papers of the Society from and the papers of the the University of Maryland an of papers from years of the Environmental and two related to the Maryland Conservation and the Maryland Environmental These materials extensive and for future scholars to write histories of environmental activism based upon of primary the is not all good as in the preservation of legal records both and the one the many to legal records on case law and any archival provisions for or archival Ed Papenfuse was particularly concerned about the future of case that is if there is any effort to and preserve those court and the is … the that there is any public is on the other the proliferation of of case law indicates case management like to and are all making the obscure legal records of the twentieth century available with the of a and and like it are to making records The is more legal records be for or will they simply be more numerous while to preserve useful most from this concerns the aging of the who or the modern environmental As the of World War II for example, one last to preserve oral histories and was to capture that In a it seems that now is the time to on the modern environmental movement, and to actively the records of that era into archives in a meaningful do is an act of environmental as well as an of Michel-Rolph “archival the records of environmental to environmental concern at a moment when new and this clearly to environmental historians. As Maryland State Archivist Ed Papenfuse put it, for the most part are of the they are not of the The people that the most in environmental topics aren't making the case for the preservation and of the archival It is clearly time for historians and other environmental scholars to make that

After flourishing in the late twentieth century, community labor history projects have languished in recent decades. 1 Perhaps not anticipating the new spark of labor mobilization of the past few years, labor historians and local museums and historical societies have missed opportunities to document the stories of ordinary workers and their unions and educate and inspire others through public exhibits and programs. Both public historians and their academic partners have faced new challenges in presenting stories about American workers. This is partly due to the neoliberal political economy, as editors Thomas Klubock and Paulo Fontes conclude in their introduction to a special issue of International Labor and Working-Class History on labor and public history, but also because of new priorities within museum and academic cultures. 2 Richard Anderson recently noted this disconnect between labor and labor historians and stated that making labor scholarship accessible is key to forming "a deep reservoir of inspiration and guidance" for current labor struggles, even as the demands of the academy require scholars to publish in more

Sámi Literature in Norwegian Language Arts Textbooks

The core of this article is a comparative analysis of the double movement of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century (the belle époque and collapse of British hegemony) with the double movement of the late twentieth and early twenty-first century (the belle époque and current crisis of U.S. hegemony). In both periods the movement toward allegedly self-regulating markets called forth a countermovement of protection. Nevertheless, important differences exist due, first, to differences in the nature of the hegemonic state and, second, to the greater role of subordinate forces in constraining the movement toward self-regulating markets in the late twentieth century.

The core of this article is a comparative analysis of the double movement of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century (the belle époque and collapse of British hegemony) with the double movement of the late twentieth and early twenty-first century (the belle époque and current crisis of U.S. hegemony). In both periods the movement toward allegedly self-regulating markets called forth a countermovement of protection. Nevertheless, important differences exist due, first, to differences in the nature of the hegemonic state and, second, to the greater role of subordinate forces in constraining the movement toward self-regulating markets in the late twentieth century.

The Women's Ordination Movement in the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints: Historical and Sociological Perspectives

Reviewed by: Canadas of the Mind: The Making and Unmaking of Canadian Nationalisms in the Twentieth Century R. Douglas Francis Canadas of the Mind: The Making and Unmaking of Canadian Nationalisms in the Twentieth Century. Norman Hillmer and Adam Chapnick, eds. Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2007. Pp. 326, $29.95 paper Creating and defining Canadian nationalism was the great pastime of Canadian intellectuals in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries; chronicling that nationalism has been the pastime of Canadian historians in late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. Canadas of the Mind is yet another attempt to analyze the elusive subject of Canadian nationalism. The editors note that 'the inspiration for this book comes from Peter Russell's multifaceted Nationalism in Canada, published exactly forty years ago' (ix.) Thus, a useful way to review Canadas of the Mind is to compare it to its earlier companion to show in what ways the theme of nationalism and the way historians examine it has or has not changed over time. Nationalism in Canada was the work of the University League for Social Reform, a think tank of Canadian academics committed to reform. The contributors to that volume were also writing in the heyday of Canadian nationalism, on the eve of Canada's centennial and amidst rising Quebec nationalism. They were also conscious of nationalist unrest in the rest of the world. Peter Russell, the editor, and [End Page 445] Frank Underhill, who wrote the foreword, spoke to these currents of change; there was, in essence, a sense of urgency and excitement about the topic and the book. The authors were on a 'mission.' Canadas of the Mind, by contrast, grew out of a conference by the Organization for the History of Canada on the subject, and the introduction to the volume lacks the dynamism of its predecessor. The editors also fail to note the need for such a volume, and what distinguishes the writings in Canadas of the Mind from earlier writings on the subject. The editor of Nationalism in Canada organized the essays around themes – The Land, The People, The Federation, Policy, Culture, New Perspectives, and Ideology, often with articles that offered opposing perspectives on the topic. Canadas of the Mind consists of fourteen essays on the theme of nationalism but otherwise lacks unity. If these are some of the general differences between the two volumes, one of the striking similarities is the topics discussed. Essays appear in both volumes on the North, technology, the National Policy, foreign policy, federal–provincial relations, culture, and multiculturalism. Thus, while things have changed over the interval of forty years, much remains the same, particularly the subjects that have formed the basis of Canadian national mythology. Still, Canadas of the Mind is not simply a rehash of Nationalism in Canada. For one thing, the new volume has a refreshing new topic: Aboriginal nationalism. Michael Behiels looks at Aboriginal nationalism over and against Canadian nationalism since the white paper of 1969 and concludes that the former lost out to the latter because it posited a form of nationalism that would lead logically to Aboriginal separation from Canada, and hence was unacceptable. David Newhouse, an Aboriginal scholar, highlights the success of Aboriginal leaders over the past thirty years at cultivating a strong Aboriginal nationalism, which has enabled them to stand up to the Canadian government and achieve concessions. Another significant difference between the two volumes is the approach. The articles in Canadas in the Mind offer a postmodern perspective. They deconstruct familiar subjects of Canadian nationalism to show that they are not what the myth-makers claimed them to be. The result is a refreshingly new look at familiar topics, reassuring the reader that there are still new things to be said about Canadian nationalism. One notable absence in Canadas of the Mind – which was not the case in Nationalism in Canada – is of articles on Quebec nationalism written by Quebecers. Is this a sign of a significant change between the 1960s and the early twenty-first century? Has Quebec nationalism lost its appeal as a subject of analysis by Quebec [End Page 446] historians? The omission is a glaring weakness in...

In the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries we have grown used to using the term “fellow creatures” to refer to non-human animals — from dogs and cats to horses and hippopotamuses. In the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries the term was also used to refer to non-human animals. But from the late eighteenth century (when the term began to be used for several decades with much greater frequency), through the nineteenth century, and through most of the twentieth century too, “fellow creature” was a term used to connect like to like — horses to horses, sheep to sheep, or, much more commonly, humans to other humans. Why the change in the late eighteenth century? And why the further change in the late twentieth century? This paper argues that political activism played a key role — and that the activism of those leading the fight against cruelty towards animals in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries was implicitly in competition with the struggles to improve the lot of black Africans, the poor, women, and other oppressed categories of humans — causes that sought to end the treatment of these groups as “no better than animals.”

Reviewed by: White Sand, Black Beach: Civil Rights, Public Space, and Miami's Virginia Key by Gregory W. Bush Charissa Threat White Sand, Black Beach: Civil Rights, Public Space, and Miami's Virginia Key. By Gregory W. Bush. ( Gainesville and other cities: University Press of Florida, 2016. Pp. xiv, 336. $29.95, ISBN 978-0-8130-6264-8.) In White Sand, Black Beach: Civil Rights, Public Space, and Miami's Virginia Key, Gregory W. Bush investigates the history of Virginia Key Beach Park as a lens to explore the civil rights struggles of African Americans in Miami, Florida, and to examine how and why public spaces and access to them are a civil right. According to Bush, this book is a "hybrid" that follows two points of inquiry through seven chapters and an afterword (p. xi). The first is a historical analysis where Bush evokes the long civil rights narratives of historians such as Jacquelyn Dowd Hall and Glenda Elizabeth Gilmore. Since the early twentieth century, black Miamians had struggled for access to the coast; they were successful in the waning days of World War II, when the direct-action protests of local black people led to the opening of the segregated Virginia Key Beach for black beachgoers. For the next two decades, African Americans looked to Virginia Key Beach as a triumph of the civil rights fight and used it as a gathering location for leisure, celebrating, and building community solidarity. With the passage of federal civil rights legislation in the mid-1960s, however, Virginia Key's meaning to African Americans changed, as many began to view the beach as a relic representing a painful past of second-class citizenship. In the mythic post–civil rights period of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, the importance of Virginia Key to community solidarity diminished and its significance to the civil rights' struggle lessened, and the beach suffered from ongoing threats of commercialization until, according to Bush, activists began to use extensive oral histories to reclaim the space and history of Virginia Key Beach for the community. The author's second point of inquiry, woven throughout the book, is personal memory or civic engagement. Bush layers his historical analysis of Virginia Key Beach with his argument that a connection to the natural world is not only necessary but also vital to the growth and health of communities. Poor land management, racism, politics, global capitalism, and even the silencing of local voices are at the heart of the economic and environmental injustices suffered by ordinary people and local communities in Miami and elsewhere. [End Page 220] Land, according to Bush, "is the ultimate resource that social power depends on" (p. 256). Challenging injustices, then, requires increased public engagement by ordinary people and is accomplished in a variety of ways. For Bush, reclaiming the history of Virginia Key Beach and staking a claim to public spaces are two of the best ways to build solidarity among a diverse group of people and to ensure equity for all community members. For scholars seeking a solid history that traces the importance of public spaces to civil rights struggles in the South, Bush's narrative offers a welcome addition to literature on public accommodation and transportation challenges. Bush reminds us that leisure and public spaces served and continue to serve important purposes in the fight for racial equality. The history of Virginia Key Beach not only reveals the fraught history of African Americans in Miami but also serves as a lesson in the complex history of civil rights in the late twentieth century. If the narrative falls short, it is when the author focuses on his second point of inquiry on civic engagement in the recent past. Although Bush's source material in this area is vast, his argument for establishing a connection with the natural world and his descriptions of his own experiences with disputes over land management in Miami sometimes detract from understanding the evolution and importance of Virginia Key Beach in the long civil rights history of Miami. Charissa Threat Spelman College Copyright © 2018 The Southern Historical Association

The costs of wars have been the main driver of public debt in the Western World during the modern era. The late twentieth century stands out as a period that saw a pronounced increase of government debt to GDP ratios in peacetime. This paper assesses the role that financial crises have played in shaping the public debt trajectory in the twentieth century. Focusing on the experiences of 14 industrial economies, I show that financial crises have long and lasting effects on public finances. I provide evidence that the costs of financial crises have increased strongly in the second half of the twentieth century and that the costs of financial crises grow with the size of the financial sector. In many countries, the rising costs incurred from stabilizing the economy after financial crises were an important cause of the peacetime surge of public debt ratios in the late twentieth century. In today's highly financialized economies, financial crises have become a key risk for public finances.

Beyond “Legal Equality” vs. “Difference” Feminism: Leah F. Vosko Interviews Eileen Boris on Women and the ILO

AIDS unites the germ theory of disease with systems thinking. AIDS could only arise in the late twentieth century. The encounter with HIV/AIDS has brought tremendous inspiration to virologists' research. The disease model of HIV/AIDS that emerged in the late twentieth and early twenty-first century was clearly marked by the social and economic circumstances of the time. It had plausibility, but it did not correspond with reality. This plausibility gained its persuasiveness through several factors. At its center were systems thinking in economics, criminal law, and many other domains, which had been emerging since the mid-twentieth century. By the late twentieth century, systems thinking were set off by a growing consciousness of living in a hitherto intact world, now increasingly threatened by intruders. Closed borders or openness to immigration were the big political issues that were reflected in the HIV/AIDS metaphor, in which an organism whose immune system is weakened by intruders becomes vulnerable to all kinds of trouble and is ultimately killed.

In this paper, we use both patents’ individual life span and foreign patenting activities in Germany to identify the most valuable patents of the 21 most innovative countries (except for Germany) from the European Core, the European periphery and overseas between 1877 and 1932. Our empirical analysis reveals that important characteristics of the international distribution of foreign patents are time-invariant. In particular, the distribution of foreign patents across countries in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries was as highly skewed as it was in the late twentieth century – and even dominated by the same major research economies. Our analysis suggests that firms’ technological advantages were influenced both by exogenous local factors, such as the countries’ resource endowment, and by endogenous factors, such as the national education and research system or the countries’ actual stage of economic development.

This chapter explores the conflicts around labour migration in the field of worker organizing. It firstly addresses the question of worker power in broad terms, to then consider how migration scholars have enriched past categorizations, including questions of migrant labour mobility, precariousness, and the relatively unfree labour relations that arise from immigration controls and temporary visas. Subsequently, we review the historical racialization of migrant labour and high turnover inside the labour movement, up to the contemporary literature on migrant workers in industrial relations and union attempts at integrating migrant workers, adopting ‘equal’ or ‘special treatment’ (Penninx and Roosblad, 2000). While across the Global North and South some unions appear to build significant alliances with civic actors to support temporary migrant workers, the question of whether migrants should be organized separately or integrated into institutional industrial relations bears testament to the ongoing biases within unions against the transiency of migrant labour. Drawing from research on grass-roots efforts at the self-organization of migrant workers inside and outside official unions, the chapter shows how the racialization and precarity of temporary migrant labour are being challenged from the bottom up by migrants, who at times succeed at winning their disputes despite their precarious conditions.

Texas SchoolJournal andJournal ofEducation, Volume ?, Number 3, May 1883, published by Texas EducationalJournal Publishing Company. Photograph courtesy ofthe Centerfor American History at the University ofTexas at Austin, DI 03899. "Everything to Help, Nothing to Hinder": The Story ofthe Texas SchoolJournal Mindy Spearman* many early american educational administrators believed that . the majority of teachers practicing during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were ill prepared for classroom instruction. They complained, for example, that teachers exhibited a "lack ofacademic and professional preparation," which insured that they would never improve "past the crude apprenticeship stage." Marching under the banner of progressivism, administrators urged some sort of continuing professional development thatwould target teachers already in service. "The training of teachers is a continuous function," wrote University of Chicago professor William Gray in the early twentieth century. "In-service training must begin at the point where pre-service training ends."1 Orlando Newton (O. N.) Hollingsworth, secretary of the Texas State Board of Education (1876-1882), echoed others' observations that latenineteenth -century teachers were poorly prepared. To remedy this problem, he lobbied the Peabody Education Fund for an appropriation to establish a state normal school and recommended the establishment of summer teacher institutes for the state's teachers already in service. He also created a state educational journal, the TexasJournal ofEducation. Hollingsworth conceived of thejournal as "a general companion and an earnest helper" that would contribute to the professional development of ill-prepared teachers. Indeed, one of thejournal's subscription slogans was "in aiding * Mindy Spearman is an assistant professor at Clemson University, specializing in the historical foundations of education and social studies education. Her previous research has examined teachers' institutes in five southwestern cities during the early-nineteenth and late-twentieth centuries. 1J. Howard Stoutemyer, "The Educational Qualifications and Tenure ofthe Teaching Population ," The SchoolReview, 25, No. 5 (1917), 336 (ist quotation); William S. Gray, "Interrelations ofTraining for Service and In Service," Preparation and Improvement ofTeachers:A Conference Report (Evanston, 111.: Northwestern University School of Education, 1932), 52-53 (2nd quotation). Vol. CXI, No. 3 Southwestern Historical Quarterly January, 2008 284Southwestern Hutorical QuarterlyJanuary thejournal, teachers aid themselves."2 Educational periodicals like the TexasJournal ofEducation represent an important form of teacher professional development popular at the turn of the twentieth century. By the start of the twentieth century, most American states and territories had a state educational periodical. As Sheldon Davis, a normal school superintendent, noted in 1919, the development of a state or territorial public school system almost inevitably resulted in the publication ofa state school journal. At first, most state periodicals were designed as a vehicle for carrying official communication from the state board of education to employees. As state journals matured, many began to publish articles intended to inspire thejob performance of school officers and teachers. Indeed, educationaljournals benefited from the late-nineteenth-century "emphasis upon self-reliance and ambition for self-improvement." The nature of thesejournals varied greatly from state to state. Some were small and short-lived, like the sixteen-page Nevada Educational Bulletin. Others, like the Ohiojournal ofEducation, were enduring and extensive. Some were sponsored by state boards ofeducation, some bystate teachers' associations, and others by private organizations.3 In his discussion of early British educationaljournals, sociologist Asher Tropp correctly acknowledged that historical study ofeducational periodicals is hampered by a lack of information. In most cases, determination of circulation and subscription details of such magazines is impossible. Additionally, to find extant copies of the volumes themselves, especially in a complete run, is often very difficult. Paul Mclnerny, an educator with graduate degrees in bothjournalism and educational foundations, is one of the few scholars to have investigated a complete run of an educational periodical, TheEducationalReview. The Review, a nationaljournal founded in 189 1 by NewYork educational reformer Nicolas Murray Buder, printed ten issues yearly for thirty-seven years. As Mclnerny demonstrated, nineteenthand twentieth-century educational periodicals were critically important to the dissemination of ideas concerning educational thought and practice.4 2 O. N. Hollingsworth, TAiHistory ofPublicEducation in Texas and theMaterialResources oftheState:An Address by Hon O. N. Hollingsworth, Secretary ofthe Board ofEducation (Austin: n.d.), 6; Peabody Order ofTrustees, Proceedings ofthe Trustees ofthePeabodyEducationFund: i88i-i88y, Volume2 (Cambridge: JohnWilson and...