"Only Wailing and Protesting"? Emotion Work and the Yishuv Controversy About the Anti-Nazi Boycott

A museum is a place for emotions and actively engages in emotional work. The museum has been active in constructing nationalism and patriotism. However, since the memory boom, museums began to represent the past with personal stories and heritages that can rupture the nationalist narrative. In particular, museums tend to expand emotional exhibitions to represent the painful and traumatic past while actively accepting the paradigm shift of ‘emotional turn’.BR Some museum researchers and practitioners argue that museums should realize its social responsibility for social justice through emotional exhibition. They believe that emotional exhibitions can evoke visitors’ empathy and sympathy, which can be a driving force for changing visitors’ opinions on social problems.BR In this article, emotional exhibition techniques that represent the sensitive past, and empirical studies on visitors’ emotional responses and empathy were reviewed and analyzed. According to the studies, the majority of visitors to the museum have not not respond emotionally to emotional exhibitions, and even if they did, few experienced a fundamental change in their perspectives or opinions. However, there were a small number of visitors who engaged emotionally to past events or empathized with victims and changed their perspective or opinions. Teaching and learning in museums needs to be structured in such a way that, paying attention to those points, it challenges learners’ habituated cognitive and emotional responses to specific events or figures and provides opportunities for self-reflection on their perspectives and emotions.

Zionist historiography associates the rise of the “new Jew” with a culture that ostensibly dictated emotional repression, silence, and even an anti-emotional ethos. The article takes a critical look at that image using conceptual tools developed in the “emotional turn.” It analyses Mandate-era ego documents to reveal that alongside the narrative of more stringent emotional restraint, at least two other narratives circulated in the Yishuv about how immigration affected emotional expression. One associated it with growing diversity and passion in the expression of emotion; another was essentially positive or neutral about emotion work and ignored questions of a collectivist style.

This article discusses the usefulness and limitations of Habermas concept of the public sphere, on the basis of the trajectory of the author’s work. It starts from the observation that the concept has generated a rich scholarly debate on tensions between the normative ideals and the nitty-gritty lived experience of mediated publics. While fundamental norms of interaction associated with the ideal of the public sphere remain essential to the creation of meaningful debate, it also relies on a series of unhelpful binary distinctions that may be neither normatively desirable nor attainable. Key assumptions of the public sphere model include the idea that public debate should be rational, impartial, dispassionate, and objective. This, in turn, implies the undesirability of emotionality, partiality, passion, and subjectivity. In recent years, particularly in response to the rise of digital and social media, scholars have begun to question the rigid delineation of such norms. The article draws on the author’s work to illuminate how an “emotional turn” in media studies has opened up for a more nuanced appraisal of the role of subjectivity and personal stories in the articulation of the common good, challenging Habermasian understandings of rational-critical debate. This “emotional turn” constitutes an essential resource for theorizing public debate as it unfolds within a hybrid media system, for better and for worse. The article shows how the “emotional turn” has shaped the author’s work on mediated public debate, ranging from letters to the editor and user-generated content to Twitter hashtags and the “emotional architecture” of Facebook.

Many within the history profession today consider that we are experiencing an ‘emotional turn’, a perception that has been spurred by a recent proliferation of research centres and outpouring of publications exploring the concept of emotion. Interest in this field looks likely to grow, although there are methodological challenges that have yet to be overcome, as, of course, there are with any newly emerging field of study. One main concern is source material. Attempting to access such an elusive and intensely subjective area of historical inquiry as emotions requires seeking out new sources, as well as returning to old ones with a fresh eye, with new questions in mind. In the specific realm of the emotional lives of women living in Victorian and Edwardian Britain, fiction proves a promising source – popular fiction especially. This is due to the fact that this was the era that ushered in the modern bestseller, novels that more often than not explored the everyday and the emotional, novels that were thought to have been ‘devoured’ by women in particular. This essay plots recent developments in the burgeoning area of emotions history, as well as those that have taken place in relation to the use of fiction as evidence in a history of women’s interior lives. It argues that, at this point in the development of emotions history, when questions of methodology, interdisciplinarity and sources are being addressed more widely, consideration should be given to popular fiction as a readily available pathway, if not an uncomplicated one, into the emotions of the past.

Within the field of resource extraction there is consensus that emotions should be avoided. We are constantly reminded that mining discussions should be based on facts and rational arguments rather than let the emotions prevail. In this chapter we argue that this is a false dichotomy. Without hope, potentiality and engagement the minerals will stay in the ground. Thus, mining not only relies upon the mobilization of emotions but also fosters emotions, which support certain discourses and narratives while silencing other. The concept of ‘mining emotion’ is thus double. It allows us to point at the emotional work and practices associated with mining, as well as the negotiations and translations that take place in a highly contested setting with different and possibly contrasting emotions. The chapter presents research within REXSAC, which contributes a focus on mining activities as deeply entangled in human affects. Drawing on the so-called “emotional turn” in the social sciences, we investigate how affects and emotions as cultural practices empower discourses that connect (or disconnect) resource extraction with community making and nation building. Our analyzes are based on studies and field work in Greenland and Sapmi in Northern Scandinavia.

Reviewed by: Orthodox Judaism and the Politics of Religion: From Prewar Europe to the State of Israel by Daniel Mahla Kimmy Caplan Daniel Mahla. Orthodox Judaism and the Politics of Religion: From Prewar Europe to the State of Israel. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020. xvi + 306 pp. doi:10.1017/S0364009421000325 The Haredi Agudat Yisrael (AY) and the Religious Zionist Mizrahi political movements, both associated with Jewish Orthodoxy, have received considerable scholarly attention over the past few decades. Book-length studies, edited volumes, master's and doctoral theses, and articles are devoted to each of them. This cumulative knowledge relates to a wide range of topics, including specific developments, processes, and episodes; these movements' respective ideological and theological platforms; various organizational, institutional, and economic infrastructures; and biographical sketches of their spiritual and political leaders. Some of these studies relate to the complex and tenuous relationships between these two rival movements, but in many cases do so in passing; in other studies this topic is overlooked or underestimated. In this volume based on a PhD dissertation, Daniel Mahla is therefore revisiting a scene that is not terra incognita, and does so forcefully, thoroughly, and systematically, with an important grain of sensitivity. The thrust of Mahla's persuasive argument is that the complex relationship between AY and Mizrahi, characterized primarily by struggles, encounters, rivalries, tensions, and competition, is crucial to understanding the "DNA" of these two religious-oriented political movements. In addition, he argues that these internal relationships are no less important, and at times more so, than those that they held with the nonreligious Jewish and Zionist movements, and are crucial to understanding how they shaped themselves and acted. This aspect must be added to the surrounding environment and contexts, which also clearly influenced the relationship between these two movements. In addition, Mahla submits that the core difference between these two movements is not solely their respective approaches toward and dealings with the Zionist movement, as certain scholars have suggested, but evolves around two pivotal issues: rabbinic authority and political activism. Exploring the internal relationships between different and competing Orthodox movements in the first half of the twentieth century demands several skills, and these come to the fore in this study. First and foremost, Mahla's rather unique command of languages enables him to utilize primary sources in English, Hebrew, German, and Yiddish. Second, it requires the ability to analyze rhetoric that is based upon a rich exposure and intuitive knowledge of classical Jewish sources. Third, Mahla demonstrates a command of the existing scholarship. Based upon a wide array of primary sources, including protocols, letters, and additional archival sources, memoirs, and the press, Mahla documents and contextualizes the relationships between AY and Mizrahi throughout most of the first half of the twentieth century, in chronological order. Following the introduction that sets the stage, each chapter is devoted to a specific period. The chapters begin with a strong focus on the European scene, where these movements were established, and gradually the focus shifts to Palestine. [End Page 480] The first chapter is devoted to Orthodox social and political activism, a phenomenon that is already well documented in several studies that focus on Orthodoxy in other European Jewish scenes. Mahla illustrates this originally by analyzing Haredi and religious Zionist encyclopedias and collective biographies of personalities in these camps, while also accounting for their anachronistic nature. In the second chapter, which traces the founding of AY and Mizrahi, one can sense the seeds of the complex love-hate relationship between these two movements, as well as the desire to unite forces, that will accompany them for decades to come. In the third chapter, devoted to the struggles and competition between these movements in interwar Poland, as well as the rhetoric that accompanied them, Mahla's main point is that the issue at stake was power, control, and followers in Poland, whereas Zionism and dealings with the Zionist movement primarily served local interests. The fourth chapter shifts the focus to the Jewish settlement in Mandatory Palestine, and in this context the Zionist movement is a major factor that impacts the relationships between AY and Mizrahi. According to Mahla, talks and potential cooperation between AY and...

Significant Emotions is a piercing examination of the rising use of emotional signifiers in public debate and the rhetoric of an increasingly expansive array of social problems. Building on ideas developed in Ashley Frawley’s previous book, Semiotics of Happiness, it examines in detail the ‘emotional turn’ across the social sciences and the broader cultural rise of the ‘age of emotion’ and its influence on how we talk about and approach new social issues. The book explores the rise of signifiers that have previously gained prominence as powerful explanations of nearly every social ill—from self-esteem, happiness, well-being, resilience and love to rage, stress, and trauma. Conceptualising the rise and comparative decline of various emotional signifiers as cycles of discovery, adoption, expansion and exhaustion, the book argues that rather than calling into question one or another of these signifiers, it is necessary to penetrate deeper to the underlying cultural currents that drive their adoption and contribute to their rhetorical power. Through a systematic and in-depth exploration of the appearance of these trends in a variety of claims-making activities across academia, traditional and social media and social policy, Frawley argues that the ‘age of emotion’ does not represent a step toward a more enlightened and emotionally aware society. Rather, it signifies a preoccupation with emotional deficits and a firm belief that emotional disorientation ultimately underlies nearly every social ill. Emerging from the analysis is the conclusion that emotions have become key signifiers of broader cultural tendencies to affirm conservatism over progress, vulnerability over resilience, and the determined self over the free willing subject.

HRMARS - Over the past two decades, higher education systems worldwide have undergone radical neoliberal governance reforms centered on accountability, performance metrics, and audit culture. While these reforms are ostensibly designed to boost institutional efficiency and transparency, they have consistently triggered widespread faculty resistance and inflicted profound, yet understudied, psychological burdens on academic staff—including burnout, identity strain, and emotional exhaustion. As higher education grapples with sustaining academic vitality and faculty well-being amid relentless structural change, understanding the interplay between university governance, faculty resistance, and psychological costs has become an urgent global imperative. This study represents the first comprehensive global bibliometric mapping of scholarship at the intersection of these three critical domains. Drawing on 48 core Scopus-indexed publications (2000–2025), we deploy rigorous science-mapping techniques—co-occurrence networks, thematic clustering, and longitudinal evolutionary analysis—to systematically clarify the intellectual foundations, conceptual trajectory, and emerging research frontiers of the field. Our findings reveal a pivotal shift in the scholarship: from early structural debates about managerialism to a nuanced "emotional turn" that centers identity strain, emotional labor, and psychological sustainability. Governance and accountability mechanisms emerge as the structural core driving faculty resistance, which we frame not as mere organizational obstruction but as a vital form of professional agency. Additionally, we identify datafication and digital governance as fast-emerging forces amplifying psychological strain among faculty. We further map key global research hubs in the United States, Brazil, Australia, and the United Kingdom, while highlighting persistent disciplinary fragmentation that limits cross-contextual insight. Concluding, we propose a targeted research agenda for advancing the psychological sustainability of institutional change in higher education, with a focus on leadership models that prioritize emotional intelligence, professional autonomy, and human-centered governance. This study delivers actionable insights for policymakers, university leaders, and academic researchers, filling a critical gap in the global understanding of how governance reforms shape the emotional and professional lives of the faculty who form the backbone of higher education.

Fifteen plus years into the ‘emotional turn’ in the study of contentious politics, the question is no longer ‘do emotions matter’ but rather ‘do emotions evernotmatter?’ Or, stated positively, can we grasp the phenomena that we group together under the name of collective political action without paying attention to feelings, emotions, affect? As others have argued, the factors that social movement scholars deem important for mobilisation – e.g. political opportunities, organisations, frames – have force precisely because of the feelings that they elicit, stir up, amplify, or dampen. We turn towards emotion, then, in order to understand the workings of the key concepts in the field. In addition, we need to explore feelings because they often are a primary catalyst or hindrance to political mobilisation, attenuating the role of other factors. Then there are the many other aspects of collective political action, beyond the question of mobilisation per se, where emotions play important roles, from ideological struggles to alliance formation to activist rituals to collective identity formation to community building. So, again, are emotions ever unimportant, are they ever a simply trivial aspect of what happens in and around contentious politics? Historians of emotion might take the argument further. If, as Rosenwein argues, ‘emotions are about things judged important to us’,2if emotions are indications of what matters, of what is valued and devalued, how can scholars interested inanyaspect of social lifenotconsider emotions?

Straipsnyje, remiantis istoriniais pavyzdžiais, protesto grupių Femen ir Pussy Riot atvejais, meno grupių Voina ir Zmena veiklos analize, kalba­ma apie vaizdingų pranešimų manifestacijos, reprezentacijos ir skaitmeninio paskirstymo santykį. Meniškumo mažėjimas ir protesto akcijų rengimas sie­kiant bent iš dalies patenkinti politikos vartotojų geismus ir iš jų kylančius poreikius šiandien derinamas su pilietiniais ir komerciniais siekiniais vienu metu. Meniškumo supaprastėjimas iki elementaraus gatvės, darbininkiško meno, iki populiarių vaizdų pasiūlos, kuri kartu tenkina ir politikos paklau­są socialiniuose tinkluose, dera su didėjančia skaitmeninių technologijų ir pranešimų sklaida. Straipsnyje teigiama, kad ne tiek komunikaciniai veiks­mai, kaip manė J. Habermasas, kiek komercinis ir politinis juslumo ir este­zio paskirstymas – tai aprašė J. Ranciere’as, bei menamai laisvas vartojimas veikia vartotojiškas-pilietines nuostatas. Naujasis komunikacinis, vartotojiš­kas-pilietinis sąmoningumas priklauso nuo skaitmeninėje erdvėje platinamų turinio, kalbos, sukeliamos euforijos, kurią šiuolaikinės kūrybinės ir infor­macinės industrijos išlaiko, reprodukuoja komerciniais tikslais, o ne norėda­mas atitikti specifinius moralinius ar politinius idealus. Tuo galima paaiškinti Femen iš dalies antifeministinį elgesį, nuolatinį apsinuoginimą, komercinį bendradarbiavimą, kuris lemia pilietinį pasirinkimą. Kritinis mąstymas ir lyderystė masinio paskirstymo ir vartojimo atveju yra ne vieno ideologinio naratyvo išpažinimas ir kitų atmetimas, o keleto skirtingų pasakojimų ar vi­zualių siužetų atitikimas. Taip yra sukuriama laisvės, kritiškumo, revoliu­cingumo iliuzija. Kaip priešybė paskirstomajai-spektakliškai manipuliacijai nagrinėjami performatyvaus išcentrinimo ir skaitmeninio kūrybinio situacio­nizmo veiksmai, kuriuos iš dalies atitinka Pussy Riot atvejis. Vis dėlto Voina ir Zmena meno grupių veiklos analizė rodo, kad nekomercinis protestas, be kryptingo informacijos paskirstymo ir sąveikos su masine paklausa elektro­niniuose tinkluose, yra mažai efektyvus. Todėl straipsnio pabaigoje aptaria­ma pasipriešinimo taktika, apie kurią kalbėjo situacionistai (G. Debord’as, R. Vaneigeimas) ar postsituacionistai (J. Boudrillard’as), šiuolaikinio pa­skirstymo kritikai (J. Ranciere’as). Straipsnyje diskutuojama apie kūrybinių situacijų sudarymą ir nekomerciškumą naudojantis skaitmeninėmis erdvėmis ir komercinio paskirstymo analogais.

Pursuing a regional approach to history puts twenty-first-century historians in the strange position of unconsciously echoing their nineteenth-century predecessors, though with differing goals. When historian Frederick Jackson Turner pronounced the Mid-Atlantic region “typically American,” he was of course intent upon divining an elusive national character, not currently a goal of historians. But Turner's frontier thesis emphasized geography and region in a way that would still be recognizable to environmental historians today. For example, Turner's observations concerning the Mid-Atlantic region hinged upon the physical geography of place, property ownership, and use of land. He noted that the Mid-Atlantic was a doorway for emigrants from all of Europe, who “entered by New York harbor” and were then intermixed; that the residents were “rooted in material prosperity” based on the land; and that the region, “with no barriers to shut out its frontiers from its settled regions, and with a system of connecting waterways,” was uniquely situated as a mechanism for the admixture of peoples. In this way, the Mid-Atlantic served as a microcosm of Turner's conception of the frontier as a churning machine that intermingled people from regions and nations to create an essentially American temperament.1Putting aside the intent behind Turner's “typically American” label, it is still possible to apply that judgment to the environmental history of the Mid-Atlantic. The region possesses the most significant concentration of urban centers in the nation, a long history of extractive industry, the legacies of early water-powered industrialization, and the remnants of some of the worst pollution disasters in American history. Along with those built environments, the region contains extensive forests with a long history of human management, complex river systems and bays, diverse colonial and pre-Columbian pasts, agricultural systems both past and current, and biological complexity in fields, forests, rivers, mountains, and shores. This diversity does not make the region unique—but it does mean that almost all of the major themes of environmental history appear in the places roughly bounded by the Atlantic, the 36th parallel, the western edge of the Appalachians, and the northern reaches of the Adirondacks.The environmental matters covered in this article have long been under discussion by scholars, but the emergence of the Marcellus shale issue has served to refocus attention on these topics, some of which had seemed to slip at least slightly from the attention of the field of environmental history. I am particularly interested in two intertwined approaches: environmental history that details the politics, policy, and popular consciousness that shape decisionmaking; and environmental history that explores the impacts of those decisions on nature and landscapes. I refer to these approaches as the history of modern environmental politics and the history of human impact on place. The distinction here lies in what the scholar initially sets out to study: (a) a political process, philosophy, or force by which environmental decisions are made, or (b) a place, landscape, topic, or species that may be transformed by those decisions. Despite this attempt at differentiation, much of the environmental history of the region remains intertwined: no matter the locale, tugging at any thread in the weave of environmental issues eventually pulls on the entire mess. Whether by examining politicians, activists, legislatures, cities, markets, corporations, landscapes, forests, or fish, the histories examined in this essay demonstrate that studying environmental topics in the Mid-Atlantic region involves a bewildering welter of forces and effects, no matter the label.Multiple works published in the last decade have focused on individual politicians or historical actors with connections to the Mid-Atlantic, with the goal of explaining their connections to larger issues in environmental politics. Char Miller produced an early example of this with his work on Gifford Pinchot, arguing that the first chief of the U.S. Forest Service “was at the forefront of those seeking international agreements to check environmental devastation.” From an outdoorsy rest cure in the Saranac Lake region of upstate New York to the managed forests of the family's “summer castle” in Milford, Pennsylvania, Miller continually links the peripatetic Pinchot to the Mid-Atlantic region.2 Similarly, Thomas G. Smith's Green Republican and J. Brooks Flippen's Conservative Conservationist attempt to explain how Republican politics were once connected to the roots of environmentalism in a way rarely seen today. Flippen locates some of Republican attorney and EPA administrator Russell Train's conservationist impulses in a personal attachment to his farm on Maryland's Eastern Shore, while Smith connects Congressman John Saylor's political action to his personal experience of nature in western Pennsylvania.3This attempt to interpret individual actors as bellwethers of larger events also frames recent studies of liberalism. A recent article by Peter Siskind on Nelson Rockefeller, for example, concludes that he “proved the most powerful and influential governor in the nation during the 1960s era, and New York continued in the vanguard of social policy experimentation.” As such, “the unfolding of racial and environmental politics explored here reveal important facets of the evolution of and tensions within post–World War II American liberalism at the state and local level.” In a similar vein, Adam M. Sowards's The Environmental Justice details the life and evolving environmental ethic of the politically active Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas, complete with stories of his hearty and physically demanding outdoorsy life, and his mid-1950s public defense of the Chesapeake and Ohio Path in Maryland.4It is obvious that many historians have chosen biographies of individual political figures as a means to narrate historical change in the politics of the environment, but there are a few scholars with the even larger goal of narrating transformations in philosophy and culture. Ben Minteer takes this approach when arguing that Benton MacKaye's cofounding of the Wilderness Society, his writings, and his commitment to creating the Appalachian Trail justifies elevating him into the company of great environmentalist writers such as Lewis Mumford and Aldo Leopold. Similarly, Char Miller's immensely readable biography also argues that Pinchot's “conviction that the power of politics and government … must be employed to expand the benefits of democracy to those often excluded from civic life remains an article of faith among contemporary progressives.” Along the same lines, Adam M. Sowards declares that in increasing public involvement in resource management, Justice Douglas and the larger conservation movement “democratized conservation [as] part of a larger reform process to open up the process of governing.”5These works demonstrate that using the examples of individual actors may certainly be a fruitful route for historians to portray larger stories of environmental politics, but the increasing availability of the archival records of environmental organizations also offers a new path to the same end. Frank Uekoetter's The Age of Smoke compares air pollution control policy in Germany and the United States, with much of the focus on Pittsburgh. Uekoetter ends up analyzing eras of cooperation and confrontation in policymaking, concluding that “the age of smoke emerges as even more crucial: never before or since was the nation-state so well suited to defining and enforcing codes of acceptable conduct and creating institutions to that effect.” My own Citizen Environmentalists fits into this category. This project sifted newly available archival records to more closely examine Pittsburgh's environmental policy in the 1960s and 1970s.6 Dyana Furmansky's 2009 Rosalie Edge, Hawk of Mercy, demonstrates how new archival sources both create and complicate new narratives of movements history. “Before Rachel Carson, Rosalie Edge was the nation's premier example of how one person could wed science to public advocacy for the preservation and restoration of the wide natural world,” writes Furmansky, but it was only through using letters and materials from the Hawk Mountain Sanctuary in Pennsylvania, uncatalogued before 1999, that the author could tell this story.7Possibly the best example of a new scholarly focus on political activism within the narrative of a well-known topic comes from Elizabeth Blum's Love Canal Revisited, which re-examines the famous incident through archival records of a variety of environmental groups, producing a topical analysis distinct from that previously offered by the historical actors involved. Shifting the attention from the story of the individual activist displays the complexity of issues, ending with the argument that “environmental activism can be used to measure the acceptance of other social movements and general ideas about race, class, and gender by different groups over time.” Along the way, Blum calls our attention to the multiplicity and complexity of activist groups at Love Canal, extending the story from Lois Gibbs's Love Canal Homeowners Association to include the Ecumenical Task Force and the Concerned Love Canal Renters Association, and placing all of this in context with the contemporaneous group Women Strike for Peace. Re-examining a well-known story through newly available archival sources has yielded a very different history of environmental activism and its meaning.8While neglected overall, activism as a subject of inquiry is still at the center of many historians' work, including Olga Polmar on New Jersey's toxic heritage and unequal distribution of risk, and Heather Fenyk and David Guston on citizen activism and wetlands in Maryland.9 Michael Egan has attempted to locate models for environmental activism in nineteenth-century New York's battles over regulating milk for public health purposes, starting with the undeniably engaging declaration that “this essay is a fraud.” With the reader's attention firmly in hand, he explains that “this essay is a fraud, because it trades on the anachronistic notion that the urban reformers who pushed for quality control and public health were early environmentalists.” Still, he continues, such a mental trick is useful in understanding the roots of activism.10 Explorations of environmental activism can occur in studies of a bewildering array of environmental issues: in thinking about the sources and shapes of popular environmental protest, scholars have explored topics ranging from activists' attempts to ban logging altogether in the Allegheny Forest, to reconstruction of the devastated Nine Mile Run in Pittsburgh, to activism and real estate in New York, and to the century-long battles over development and industry on the Hudson River.11Whether concerned with an individual political actor or a group of activists, the histories of involvement in environmental politics are highly dependent on the available sources. While new sources are prompting revision, a lack of archival documents has left obvious gaps in our narratives of twentieth-century environmentalism. For example, activism that grew in response to nuclear power and weapons seems to have been barely scratched, with Thomas Peterson's book on local activism in Allegany County, New York, a rare example that demonstrates further opportunity for work. It seems odd that antinuclear activism can be such a major part of European Green politics and yet receive fairly little attention in the United States, with several major clashes in the region remaining unexamined by historians using archival sources. For example, further research is needed on Ralph Nader's Critical Mass, a mid-1960s national antinuclear group based in Washington, DC. Other organizations and nuclear plants remain unexamined, including the Indian River site on the Hudson, the Calvert Cliffs site in Maryland, and the formation of the Shad Alliance in opposition to the Shoreham site on Long Island. Calvert Cliffs seems particularly promising for future research, with late-1960s opposition to the site leading to an important 1971 federal case testing the boundaries of the new National Environmental Policy Act.12While the histories of environmental politics discussed in the previous section start with individual politicians, activists, political battles, or organizations, the works in the next category seem to focus on a place and subsequently examine the impact of changing policies on that subject. The works grouped below begin with a locale, landscape, flora, fauna, ecosystem, or region as a subject. By necessity, they also include explorations of the attempts of institutions, organizations, and governments to choose and pursue a certain path in relation to that subject.There are a few trends among these works on the national level. For example, it has become standard practice for environmental historians to adopt a city or a region as a topic, with prominent examples dealing with Seattle, Boston, and St. Louis. The particular advantage here is the opportunity to narrate the long-term impacts of changing policy on a specific environment. Matthew Klingle's account of Seattle, for instance, shows the human alteration of land and water that latecomers to the city might assume were natural formations, while Michael Rawson demonstrates the surprising interplay of science, politics, and culture in fashioning both the city of Boston—built in large measure from landfill—and the expectations of its inhabitants.13Another scholarly trend is the way that environmental historians have been pulled into newly invigorated discussions of the developing powers and responsibilities of governments in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Following William Novak, many scholars outside of environmental history are describing a complex evolution of conflicting and competing forces within a multilayered and occasionally contradictory American state. These historians question the traditionally derided weakness of federal government in the nineteenth century. Many explore the foundations of private property, the police power to infringe upon that property, and alternative locations of power within municipal, civic, or voluntary institutions.14 This has obvious implications for those who are writing histories of human impacts on the environment. A 2012 article by Jessica Wang that is ostensibly about dogs and animal control in New York City, for instance, actually ends up being an example of “one of innumerable areas of everyday public policy in which voluntary associations continue to wield police power, perform public functions, and exercise state authority alongside formally constituted governmental agencies.”15 These words could clearly apply to hundreds of different conservation agencies, sportsmen's groups, county foresters, and state departments of natural resources.Within the Mid-Atlantic, choosing to write about a region, watershed, or metropolitan area can the and impact of government the for example, is a that an wide array of to on the complex at the of the The of this work both with and from their concluding that “the Chesapeake story is a for those who would to on the of a very or understanding of the way the a long of on fish, and William the concluding essay for the that are as many of the past of the Chesapeake as there are and scholars to The here the of any government or decisions based on an understanding of the physical on a the other recent works have attempted the same of analysis on the state and metropolitan with an on government New Jersey's on both the natural and the of the region that have in an that New important for understanding the twentieth-century and their natural Similarly, on and its and the the use of power to or that who from that produced environmental and who the health and on race, class, and work is also to scholars outside of the field of environmental and ends with a essay from that all historians of environmental activism on the of these David The of New York attention in the category of regional environmental While it does not extensive new research, it is a argument for the of regional environmental to a general or it is possible that many could be examined in this way, in history While still that the of human using as a category of argues that boundaries often are the physical boundaries of even more that policies have in environmental and in New York the state as a him to examine the specific and long-term physical impacts of state policy on forests, air and urban or preservation of forests, and to be a popular topic for historians. historians have focused on the forests of the Mid-Atlantic region in the last including on and in on and on New York's David on the on activism and the and on the in Many of these are concerned with and preservation and the powers and of organizations and with those project is as argues for the of and New policies in the early twentieth the state of Appalachian forests today. is of the of conservation in New York, an approach that to the that early also how the human and natural of a were to be these there is also significant work on the the of New York and New and in the of process by which private or public into has been particular in the of state and This is a subject that explores in his on the Allegheny while at a popular also G. on the political battles groups, private property and state and federal Similarly, Adam Sowards's The Environmental Justice an of the over the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal into a national This in the a prominent for Mid-Atlantic as it the to nature in places were The over often larger policy to who declares that examining the complex history of the Appalachian Trail of the complex conservation and social of water that the Mid-Atlantic seem to have significant attention from scholars, particularly in attempts to explain policy This of takes this approach in Long Similarly, The and examine the histories of Maryland's and battles environmental groups, the industry, and are also of particular with and David works on the River as to a more obvious example of John New York's River as one of its case studies of the of actually an essay that explores both the of urban water policy and a regional understanding of urban environmental David has built on a long of historical writing about New York water the development of the water system from the nineteenth through the the of a regional approach to urban echoing William and Matthew and have all about the and the and environmental legacies of that as with its natural the extensive systems its and past and the impact of political of to historians of the are the in which in the nineteenth had and often on a of and As writes in an of system of water a new built that the emergence of a in the of both and Peter have situated and the of the Canal with the formation of the modern American state. As puts the history of the demonstrates a the of the United as a power and as a in the and focus on the of the private the of federal and state action in the This is as an history by seemed to a in a multiplicity of to the over as to significant urban the Mid-Atlantic would seem to many more for ranging from metropolitan to the of in the and of the Hudson River air pollution is also of to historians studying a region that was once the center of and is still to its urban These historians often out that the impact of air pollution is rarely about the it also the larger and of As David writes about smoke the and could which of urban such as and and which such as the of private property and private and have all on air pollution topics in New York City, Pittsburgh, and the pollution and its control is clearly a significant topic of research, but New York and there is work on the topic, with the possible of Mile of from water to air to the built has significant attention in the The Mid-Atlantic was the of the first and the area is with for historical analysis of the and impact of The topic is immensely at the municipal, and all to the and of and historical subject of the twentieth century. Adam emphasized the of in his work The in the on the New locates a powerful and a activism that from major As he “the was a in a in public in a of private and public many other scholars have examining of in New The of is one of works in that has a book on Pittsburgh's while works on and to topic a decade has an of on that explores the racial and of as have environmental so to or control The impacts of those and policies on and are clearly an area of The Mid-Atlantic has produced significant on extractive industry, with and and being offers into the impact on and culture of an that nineteenth-century that as well as the their very of the its and how those be managed and has examined the of state in producing different in the of nineteenth-century and arguing that the evolution of impacts of major extractive industry in these histories of and make it surprising that has so little for this and political By and in have been the of and many to the and local response in historical For example, while with a land ethic that with also that the region was a for opposition and policy was in the Appalachian that the first state and a for federal of the and had such major is as a to historians because it takes place essay with a to Frederick Jackson Turner and his that the Mid-Atlantic was the one “typically American” region in the historians are not of but there is an of his of politics and place in the works As a regional Turner many of the of historians interested in environmental politics and his thesis on the of upon defining regions by physical and with the of industry, and resource by that and these topics once recent studies of the Mid-Atlantic noted this significant for further work in the region The environmental twentieth-century with topics to the activism of the environmental movement has left explored by scholars in environmental or political but by environmental historians. As such, there are important gaps in the to histories of environmental organizations and The the Mile and the the Shoreham nuclear power in more histories through archival and about Marcellus and the of for histories of land in New York and work on the history of antinuclear activism is as new have been in 2012 for the first nuclear plants to be built in the United since Mile has other western nations to from nuclear of specific also seem at least by environmental has a story as complex as the Hudson has as many stories to tell as the the metropolitan of the Eastern a regional and the subject of could be as as The of from power plants the forests, and of the region for a and to international attention in the and but the subject has not yet been explored through archival sources. For that in the environmental impact of the War could be the in Maryland, of in and even more in the works on the Mid-Atlantic, and environmental policy in there also to be a lack of focus on policy institutions and the of the individual city or and the large of federal David The of New York is an and the way to a new for environmental This of work to a larger while for of different environmental or and within is still much work to be at this of as by recent work the of and federal policy work would with the of many both from within and environmental who are in of the of the American these the larger matter of the of the environmental movements of the twentieth The here is over the of modern environmentalism had any significant impact on the course of history. In the published The of Environmental several historians question the of an environmental For example, Frank Uekoetter upon the of to on policy and “the environmental may one more a In the same declares while “the as an important … never was influential to as a for an in the history of modern the of the of this Adam argues that the environmental and in was a of of and a to make a a of activists, and This is a and any of the political or movements to human action in relation to their change the course of human or are the forces of and of property very the question environmentalism Mid-Atlantic might be an place to any to these and it is that environmental historians be in the region for some to Environmental never to refocus our in a history that explores the foundations and of that and while Marcellus shale is our the next is the with trends in the nature of archival and a in environmental this means that the history of recent environmental politics and the physical impacts of policy is into a more of published research in environmental and most continue to in the

This article examines the temporal underpinnings of hope as a key element of political action under dystopian circumstances. It is based on a comparative study of the authors’ long-term ethnographic studies: First, an ethnography of the activists for national independence of the Scottish National Party following the 2016 Brexit referendum and second, the anti-authoritarian activists of the local ‘no’ assemblies in Istanbul around the 2017 constitutional referendum in Turkey. Approaching hope as a political resource of transformative action that is created for and within political struggles, this article finds that the generation and maintenance of hope require an agentic orientation to time and more specifically, to the future. It further shows how dystopian imaginations, when taken as critical evaluations of the present, may enable political action by opening up the indeterminate future to possibilities of political transformation. Drawing on and contributing to the scholarship on emotions, utopia and dystopia, and time, we argue that generating hope among activists against dystopian futures necessitates not only ‘emotion work’ but also ‘time work’. Grounded in our empirical findings, we reconceptualize ‘time work’ as the collective effort to shape orientations to the imagined past, lived present, and anticipated future, for and within political struggle. We thus conclude by expanding the concept of ‘time work’ to cover its particularly collective and explicitly political uses, offering two modes of time work: Narratives of time and collective acts of hope. We believe that this expanded concept will be a useful analytical tool for scholars working on social movements, political action, time, and emotions.

Stigma is a discrediting attribute that significantly diminishes the bearer in the eyes of various audiences. While early stigma research focused predominantly on individuals facing stigmas, the perspective of stigma has expanded to encompass organizations, categories, and industries. Extant research on stigma in and around organizations has provided valuable insights into three aspects: the sources, characteristics, and management of stigma. To begin, there are six distinctive sources of stigma: physical, tribal, moral, servile, emotional, and associational. In addition, five distinctive characteristics of stigma are concealability, controllability, centrality, disruptiveness, and malleability. Not surprisingly, management and organization scholars have devoted more attention to the strategies and tactics used to combat, deflect, or cope with stigma. They have developed six common types of stigma management strategies: dilution, information management, boundary management, cooptation, emotion work, and reconstruction. These six strategies and their derivative tactics can be categorized into four broad approaches: lose it, conceal it, use it, or reshape it. Moreover, scholars have just started to explore broader processes of stigmatization in and around organizations—that is, the emergence, removal, and transfer of stigma. Stigma is not a dichotomous evaluation but, instead, involves a continuum with a middle range of ambivalence between two extremes. Although in the cases of stigma emergence and stigma removal the stigmatization processes eventually gravitate toward one end of the stigma continuum, the unfolding of these processes is not straightforward and often oscillates along the continuum between totally stigmatized and non-stigmatized. The middle range of ambivalence is partially attributable to the multidimensional nature of stigmatization such that a target is often partially, rather than entirely, (de)stigmatized. In exploring these dynamic processes of stigmatization, scholars tend to adopt a multi-stakeholder perspective and highlight the role of the institutional environment. Future research is warranted to further unpack the dynamic relationships between stigma and other social evaluations, such as reputation, status, and trust—particularly, how these other social evaluations impact the processes of stigmatization and how they together contribute to the governance of institutions. Moreover, the literature will benefit from a deeper exploration of the ideological embeddedness of stigmatization. Ideological stigma will not only encourage various stakeholders to balance moral and pragmatic considerations but also render the processes of stigmatization more complex and challenging.

The purpose of this study is to outline preliminary steps towards a history of emotions in IR. The primary contribution – and argument – of this study emerges from the observation that IR scholars have tended to write emotions ‘out of history’ in order to make sense of the present. Building on the works of historian Barbara Rosenwein, this study argues that much of the discipline of International Relations has incorporated into its thinking a strong but flawed ‘grand narrative’ of emotion. In brief, the narrative is this: the history of the West is the history of increasing emotional restraint – a progressive historical development that moves from ‘primitive’ emotional cultures, which give people much more liberty to manifest emotions they experience, to ‘civilized’ modernity and the bureaucratic rational state, which require social control of emotions. I assess two different arguments for this conclusion. The first argument concedes that at least some IR theories do take seriously the historical representation of emotions but holds that much of IR theorizing rests on a temporal binary that uses a linear-progressive conception of emotional history, in which the experience and expression of emotion increasingly became subject to emotional control by social forces. Certainly not all IR theories insist on the universal validity of specific models of emotion concepts, as I will show below. But even those IR theories that do take history seriously, cannot avoid incorporating the grand narrative of emotional restraint outlined above into their thinking. The second argument holds that the grand narrative, which represents the history of international relations as a history of increasing emotional restraint, is predominantly a Western historical narrative. This argument introduces a spatial binary that rests on a spatial misrepresentation of emotional history in IR. This second binary constructs the history of international relations as a narrative of an increasingly rationalized Western world against an emotionalized non-Western world that remains stuck in its violent past. I suggest that this double binary – temporal and spatial – is deeply problematic because it is rooted in a questionable historical understanding of emotions in IR: it employs a linear understanding of emotions that underappreciates and misrepresents the emotional epistemologies of previous eras. The alternative that this study develops of a history of emotions in IR is to advance the argument that the history of international relations resembles a history of emotional communities. Emotional communities are “groups in which people adhere to the same norms of emotional expression and value – or devalue – the same or related emotions” (Rosenwein, 2006, p. 2). Precisely, the idea is to suggest non-linear ways to study emotions in IR as embedded in and expressed through various emotional communities in particular times and spaces. The most promising research strategy to develop such a cross-historical comparison of emotions is to historicize them. To historicize emotions means “subjecting discourses on emotion, subjectivity, and the self to scrutiny over time, looking at them in particular social locations and historical moments, and seeing whether and how they have changed” (Abu-Lughod and Lutz, 1990, p. 5). This approach avoids some of the problems stemming from the double binary outlined above. First, it allows for a mapping of multiple emotional communities without introducing a particular temporal and spatial hierarchy. Second, the study of emotional communities enables us to evaluate contemporary notions of what is “emotional” in IR and if or how emotions have changed in their historical meaning and relative importance. Moreover, by historicizing emotions in this way, we can learn a lot about the moral values, power relationships and identities of various political communities of the past and present. Finally, to historicize emotions in this way lets us assess how different emotional communities interacted over time, contributing to a fuller understanding of globally entangled emotional histories. I illustrate this based on three interrelated approaches: communitarian, communicative, and comparative-connective. The analytical value of historicizing emotions through emotional communities is that it provides detailed insights into how emotions (or more precisely their meaningful expressions) change over time, how emotions are not merely the effects of historical circumstances but are actively shaping events and enriching historiographical theories in IR. First, this study contributes to the historical turn by further bridging the so-called ‘eternal divide’ between History and Political Science/International Relations (Lawson, 2010). Precisely, it problematizes the Eurocentric and presentist character of much of IR in a novel way by engaging in a critical dialogue with a linear process of emotional control. As many scholars have argued, the scholar’s choice of theorizing history becomes constitutive of the way IR is theorized and understood. My aim here is to sensitize IR scholars about how they include emotions in their work and to warn against how an unconscious and anachronistic treatment of emotions may distort our view of history in IR. A more nuanced inclusion of emotions may add to our understanding of the complex historical processes that underpin and have underpinned global politics. For example, there has been a renewed interest in the study of hierarchies in IR (Zarakol, 2017). As pointed out above, emotions are important, yet underappreciated, manifestations of such historically constructed international hierarchies. That said, it should be pointed out that the approach put forward here still represents only one way of ‘doing’ history in IR. It is not meant to diminish existing approaches or to simply replace an existing grand narrative with a new one. As Lawson and Hobson (2008) have rightly pointed out, “history comes in plural modes rather than in singular form” and this study welcomes such pluralism. Second, the study furthers the emotional turn by highlighting the historical dimension of researching emotions in world politics. Many IR scholars – with some important exceptions – study emotions in ahistorical ways through a universal psychologizing of international relations. Essentially, they suggest that today's emotions were the emotions of the past and will remain those of the future. But this viewpoint neglects the crucial fact that contemporary emotional categories and meanings are themselves the product of historical processes. While this has been increasingly recognized by some scholars (Hutchison, 2019; Linklater, 2014), it remains unclear what exactly is historical about emotions and how we should use history in their study. My point here is that before we can genuinely appreciate diversity or pluralism in and among emotional histories, we need to dispense with this grand narrative and its tendency to universalize emotion as regressive or atavistic tendencies. To this end, I suggest that the notion of emotional communities provides us with a novel historical perspective to open up space for a broader research agenda to analyze emotions in IR.

The origin of the Zion Mule Corps and its association with the founding of the Jewish Legion is an important and vital part of the history of Russian Jewish service in the British Army. In Chapter 1 mention was made of Pinhas Rutenberg and Vladimir Jabotinsky, who shared the idea of raising a Jewish force under the aegis of the western Allies. They were not alone. Russian Jewish exiles living in Palestine and Turkey were also considering Zionist participation in the war, but on the Ottoman side. Two of the leading activists, David Ben-Gurion and Isaac Ben-Zvi (the pair were known as the ‘Benim’), both of whom were to play a crucial part in the formation of an independent Israel, then saw the future interests of Zion as being best served by assisting the Turks. They feared that the neutrality officially espoused by the Zionist movement could discredit and endanger the Jews who had settled in Palestine under a benign Ottoman regime.1