Civilian Clothes Research Articles

The Italian Court of Cassation Misapprehends the Notion of War Crimes: The Lozano Case

In July 2008, the Italian Court of Cassation held that Italian courts lacked jurisdiction over the 2005 killing in Baghdad by a US serviceman of an Italian intelligence officer in civilian clothes and the wounding of another officer and a reporter. The Court asserted that the action was accomplished by the serviceman while fulfilling his official duties, and that he therefore enjoyed functional immunity from foreign courts. According to the Court, this immunity was not removed by the fact that the killing allegedly amounted to a war crime. The Court took the view that war crimes are ‘grave breaches’ of international humanitarian law, and must be large-scale, odious and inhuman, as well as intentional acts, whereas the killing at issue was not. The author argues that the Court premised its reasoning on a clearly erroneous definition of war crimes.

Vocation, Vocation, Vocation: Lewis Simpson’s Lives

In the jacket photograph for Imagining Our Time, Lewis Simpson poses with a slightly arch smile, almost but not quite a smirk, and his tieless collar is open and spread. He looks less like a citizen of his beloved republic of letters than an Israeli general in civilian clothes. When he died in 2005, at the age of eighty-eight, he had written six books and edited several more on American and Southern literary culture (the upper-case S must be used for Simpson's work), and edited the New Series of the Southern Review from its inception in 1965. Without heading up a cult or school, Lewis Simpson set a standard. Some of my own best work appeared in the Southern Review under his editorship; of all the elders in the field, Simpson was the one I most wanted to be. If I had been consulted in the editing of this ensemble of Simpson's late essays (most postdate his retirement in 1986), I would have suggested another subtitle: Essays in a Furtive Autobiography. I do not mean furtive to be pejorative, but rather to reflect Simpson's habit of self-effacement. He was a modernist in temperament, after all, and clung to the modernist rule of the invisibility of the author. But autobiography nevertheless found a way. As Fred Hobson points out in his introduction, the typical Simpson essay begins with a modest personal anecdote, then dives into an intricate, sometimes Jamesian (as in Henry James in his Master phase) investigation of the writer whose work fascinated him. In the intellectuals and writers covered in Imagining Our Time Simpson finds

Field tests on human tolerance to (LNG) fire radiant heat exposure, and attenuation effects of clothing and other objects

A series of field tests exposing mannequins clothed with civilian clothing to a 3 m × 3 m square liquefied natural gas (LNG) pool fire was conducted. Both single layer clothing and double layer clothing were used. The radiant heat flux incident outside the clothing and incident on the skin covered by clothing were measured using wide-angle radiometers, for durations of 100–200 s (per test). The levels of heat flux incident on the clothing were close to 5 kW/m 2. The magnitude of the radiant heat attenuation factor (AF) across the thickness was determined. AF varies between 2 and higher for cotton and polyester clothing (thickness 0.286–1.347 mm); AF value of 6 was measured for 1.347 mm thickness. Single sheet newspaper held about 5 cm in front of mannequins and exposed to incident flux of 5 kW/m 2 resulted in AF of 5, and AF of 8 with double sheets. AF decreases linearly with increasing heat flux values and linearly increases with thickness. The author exposed himself, in normal civilian clothing (of full sleeve cotton/polyester shirt and jean pants), to radiant heat from a LNG fire. The exposure was for several tens of seconds to heat flux levels ranging from 3.5 kW/m 2 to 5 + kW/m 2 (exposure times from 25 s to 97 s at average heat flux values in the 4 kW/m 2 and 5 kW/m 2range). Occasionally, he was exposed to (as high as) 7 kW/m 2 for durations of several seconds. He did not suffer any unbearable or even severe pain nor did he experience blisters or burns or any other injury on the unprotected skin of his body. The incident heat fluxes on the author were measured by a hand-held radiometer (with digital display) as well as by strapped on wide-angle radiometers connected to a computer. He could withstand the US regulatory criterion of 5 kW/m 2 (for 30 s) without suffering any damage or burns. Temperature measured on author's skin covered by clothing did not rise above the normal body temperature even after 200 s of exposure to 4 kW/m 2 average heat flux.

Red Partisan: The Memoir of a Soviet Resistance Fighter On the Eastern Front (review)

Reviewed by: Red Partisan: The Memoir of a Soviet Resistance Fighter 0n the Eastern Front Walter S. Dunn Red Partisan: The Memoir of a Soviet Resistance Fighter 0n the Eastern Front. By Nikolai I. Obryn’ba . Washington: Potomac Books, 2007. ISBN 978-1-59797. Photographs. Drawings. Glossary. Index. Pp. xii, 256. $26.95. Red Partisan is a memoir by a well educated, intelligent, talented artist who volunteered to join the Red Army on the first day of the war. The book is a primary source rather than an historical work. The author loved his country and believed in Stalin. The book is not the usual propaganda-laced version of history that one encounters so often from Russia, but rather reflects the true unvarnished feelings of the author. The book is divided into two portions. The first part covers his brief period of combat and months as a prisoner of war. The second half relates his experience as a member of a partisan brigade in White Russia. The author's attempt to join the army was rejected because his status as an artist exempted him from military service, and Stalin initially rejected the idea of forming poorly trained and ill equipped divisions to beat the [End Page 275] highly trained German divisions. However, Stalin's political rival, the mayor of Leningrad, had great success with volunteer divisions and, as a result, Stalin was compelled to follow suit. As Stalin expected, the volunteer divisions from Moscow suffered heavy losses. The author was a member of the 18th Volunteer Division formed in July 1941. The division was renamed the 18th Rifle Division and later the 11th Guards Rifle Division. After less than two weeks training, the division began a march to the front still in civilian clothes and carrying obsolete rifles. In the course of the following weeks, trucks arrived carrying weapons and uniforms. In September the division was assigned to the 33rd Reserve Army in front of Moscow. After only a few days of actual combat, the division began to dissolve. The author was separated from the division and captured a short time later. When interrogated by the Germans, the author stated that he was an artist which impressed his German captors who demanded that he sketch their pictures. After the Germans informed their leaders, the author was ordered to paint a portrait of a general and was accorded privileges such as food and a place to sleep that were denied to other prisoners. After months of captivity, the author escaped with a group of other prisoners and joined the partisans. Because of his skills, the partisans used him to make maps and propaganda leaflets, and he saw very little combat. However, he was ordered to carry out executions of Russians who were aiding the Germans as a warning not to help them. He continued to paint portraits and scenes of partisan activity, some of which are reprinted in the book. In the spring of 1944, the Germans assembled a half dozen divisions and forced the partisans to flee across the front into Russian territory. The book is of special interest at this time because it presents the emotions, beliefs, and decisions faced by those who oppose an occupying army. Many of the actions were distasteful to the author, but he was forced to comply. These actions included shooting a female collaborator in one instance and refusing to execute another woman because she fraternized with a German soldier in order to obtain food for her two children. The Russian translator employs British English and uses unusual terms, for example fried pig fat rather than bacon. Far too many comments are inserted with the abbreviation trans. for Russian and German words that simply should have been translated, for example hauptman (German for captain, trans.). The translator was probably seeking to preserve the context of the comment by giving the German word but too many of these comments are irritating. This is not a book for the general reader or the World War II buff. However, it should be required reading for anyone concerned with our current problems with occupation of a country and an insurgency. The tactics, emotional conflicts...

The Consequences of Uniformity: The Struggle for the Boy Scout Uniform in Colonial Kenya

Boy Scout uniforms in colonial East Africa, like civilian clothing, were tangible but malleable archives of social reality that enabled young African men to imagine, if not create, new identities and realities. By appropriating Scout clothing and symbols and turning them to new purposes, they challenged the established colonial order and proposed new social identities. Yet uniforms constituted a special category of clothing that is largely missing from broader studies of African dress. Scholars have tended to assume that the disciplined and regimented nature of Scout clothing protected from capture both authorized and unauthorized wearers. Uniforms conveyed great power in colonial Kenyan society. The colonial regime used them to discipline and empower the African soldiers, policemen, and civil servants who extended its reach into urban and rural African communities. The uniforms of these colonial proxies conveyed the standardized message that their wearers represented the authority of the state and accepted its guidance and discipline regardless of who they actually were. Yet the institutionalized power embedded in uniforms also made them vulnerable to appropriation. Their conformity and enforced anonymity meant that anyone putting them on could claim the authority and privileges they represented. The Scout uniform therefore became the center of a fierce struggle in colonial Kenya between Africans who sought to turn it to their own uses and the colonial authorities who recognized that it had the ability to undermine British rule by blurring racial, class, and gender lines.

Political Art, Distracted

THOMAS HIRSCHHORN: UTOPIA, UTOPIA = ONE WORLD, ONE WAR, ONE ARMY, ONE DRESS CCA WATTIS INSTITUTE FOR CONTEMPORARY ARTS SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA MARCH 10-MAY 13, 2006 I imagine Thomas Hirschhorn's exhibition = World, War, Army, Dress pleased many: artists, art observers, academics (particularly those who have, for the last decade or so, told students that polities and art do not mix), passionate liberals (as well as those who see themselves as timelessly anti-establishment, but who have shied away from activism), and busy art school undergraduates who will be comfortable with the street look and duct tape construction of the exhibition. However, for all its ambiguity, faced with the mass of Hirschhorn's collecting (thousands of objects in tight proximity), one could not help but think about the deformity of war. This was the show's success--though a measured one. [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] The installation was comprised of uniforms from around the world, documentary and fashion photos of soldiers in camouflage, music videos set among battles and explosions (the singers camouflage-clad), and consumer items appropriating the pattern of camouflage such as snowboards, T-shirts, and halter dresses. There were also scrap wood trees with mannequin bodies, maps, and globes of the world growing camouflage tape mounds. There were toys of war placed both in battlefields and in a large doll house, books on war scattered in a living room covered in camouflage tape, and forty-foot, ambiguous, cardboard forms that could be bullets, missiles, or submarines. The installation filled three galleries--a lot of real estate to take up, and to Hirschhorn's credit, one does not begrudge him his excess. The tragic flaw of Utopia was that Hirschhorn allowed the viewer to see how entirely seduced he is by critical theory; he threw aside a chance to serve as a witness, choosing instead this infatuation, which is unfortunate since he succeeded at making a map that shows the cognitive discord of war. Less importantly, the subtleties of his One Dress message--consumerism's appropriation of camouflage in civilian clothing--was less compelling than the immersion experience he gave viewers of all sorts of objects. In them we could see one enormous, global casualty: ourselves as conquerors, our own loss of righteousness making us victims of politics and greed in the end. If I had not read Marcus Steinweg's accompanying essay, Worldplay (2005), in full, I would have been more inspired by Utopia, which featured printed fragments of the essay in the installation. (1) As posters and signs hung throughout the exhibition space, Steinweg's text fragments functioned adequately as Barthesian empty signs, and contrasted with the very specific war documentation. They could have been taken from any critical theory text. Open-ended, they sometimes related to objects nearby, but their solipsism more often represented other breakdowns of meaning that accompany war in our time. (I found myself remarking that in our time--a time capable of so much technologically--the appearance of brutal carnage seems like a special effect from a science fiction film, a film about an evil civilization in a surreal time. …

BOOK REVIEW: John Laband.THE TRANSVAAL REBELLION: THE FIRST BOER WAR, 1880-1881. London and New York: Pearson Longman, 2005.

Reviewed by: The Transvaal Rebellion: The First Boer War, 1880–1881 Stanley H. Palmer (bio) The Transvaal Rebellion: The First Boer War, 1880–1881, by John Laband; pp. xii + 264. London and New York: Pearson Longman, 2005, £19.99, $29.95. "Majuba" no longer has the resonance it once had. This 1881 battlefield victory was long honored in Afrikaner South Africa as a symbol of the white tribe's resistance to Britain's abolition of their South African Republic (Transvaal) of 1852–77. Majuba was an early strike against British imperialism. In post-apartheid South Africa, however, new issues produce new icons. Nowadays visitors can take frequent ferries to tour Robben Island, Nelson Mandela's former prison in Cape Town's harbor, but the state no longer maintains Majuba as a historical site. John Laband's new study, widely and deeply researched from printed and archival materials, is much needed, as Joseph Lehmann's excellent The First Boer War (1972) is now more than thirty years old. Laband has chosen his book's title carefully, for he sees the conflict in 1880–81 as a restricted regional rebellion rather than the "first war of independence." An indicator more of Boer resentments than of incipient nationalism, the conflict near the Transvaal-Natal border was—or should have been—a wake-up call to British incompetence to wage colonial wars against the kinds of fighters that the Illustrated London News derided as "undisciplined bands of yeomen" (157). Laband argues that Britain's military setbacks resulted both from Boer deadliness with small arms fire and from "the ingrained arrogance of the imperial stance" (139)—too many patronizing and contemptuous British officers making poor leadership decisions in the field. The Transvaal Rebellion can be read profitably on two levels: general history and specialist military history. In a crisp, colorful writing style, Laband eases his readers into a description of Boer society and values and British governance of the Transvaal, an area home to only 35,000 Boers and 5,000 British in a vast sea of 750,000 Africans. Although both military systems were small (there were 1,800 British soldiers and 7,000 Boer commandos in the whole Transvaal) they were very different: the British were highly disciplined, drilled, and uniformed; the Boers were ruggedly individualistic. Britain's military rigidly separated officers from enlisted men; the Boers were self-activating egalitarians, although British officers thought of them as "country bumpkins in disreputable civilian clothes" (60). For Laband, one incident vividly illustrates the difference. In the British defeat at Ingogo the dead had to be hurriedly buried, yet British policy was always to bury officers separate from the rank and file. Thus, four days after the battle, a British detail returned to exhume the officers' bodies for later proper reburial; amid constant rain, mud, and scavenging vultures, "many of those opening the pits were violently sick at the disgusting work" (176). Laband also has an eye for irony and humor. As British losses mounted, for example, officers organized [End Page 571] group athletics in order to build morale; the mule race, reported Major-General Sir George Pomeroy Colley, was "great fun" (176). Laband's sympathies seem to lie with the Afrikaners, yet he takes care to be scrupulously fair: while the Boer irregulars were often humane and generous to Britain's wounded or prisoners, he notes that on occasion they would ambush or fire on a white-flag party of Britons. Much of Laband's book is pure military history. Readers eager to recreate, analyze, and critique battles will find fascinating his on-the-ground, sometimes nearly minute-by-minute accounts of the battles of Bronkhorstspruit, Laing's Nek, Ingogo, and Majuba, as well as the sieges of more than a half-dozen British forts throughout the Transvaal. While the book does contain ten handsome drawings and maps, more would have been welcome. The addition of engravings or portraits of the main British and Boer leaders would also have enhanced Laband's story. The Boers' sieges of British forts led mostly to stalemates, but the "country bumpkins" were overwhelmingly successful on the battlefield. Eschewing the high casualties inherent in hand-to-hand fighting, "Boers...

Lampedusa in Focus: Migrants Caught between the Libyan Desert and the Deep Sea

It is the last day of August and at the airport of Lampedusa, a small Italian island situated south of Sicily, yet another deportation of ‘undocumented’ migrants is taking place. The incident appears as wrapped in the mantel of ordinariness that exacerbates even more the violence of the event. Two planes parked approximately 20m away from each other are waiting for passengers. A group of tourists pours out of the airport building and strolls towards the airplane of AirOne, an Italian tourist carrier. The adjacent plane of AirAdriatic, a private Croatian air company, is boarded by a group of passengers walking in a fixed formation behind each other. Four police officers (one officer in the back, one in front and two on the side of the row) wearing civilian clothes and large black protection gloves lead the group of 10 migrants from the detention camp to the airplane. The distance between the AirAdriatic plane and the detention camp is rather short. In fact, the plane is parked only 15m or so away from the barbed wire that separates the runway from the camp. Migrants boarding the plane are dressed the same: they wear dark blue sports trousers with a matching jacket and carry a white plastic shopping bag. Seven groups of 10 men are lead to the plane. Behind the barbed wire there are several hundreds of migrants seated in small groups on the soil. When the plane takes off most of them are on their feet, waving.

A Minor Casualty of the Cold War

A Minor Casualty of the Cold War Jesse Reid Lawson (bio) When World War II ended, Vienna, like Berlin, was partitioned into three zones—American, British, Russian. It became, if it wasn't already, an espionage hub, the main crossing point of spies and information between East and West. By the time I got to Germany, 12 years later in the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment (our horses had tank treads), the partitions had been recently dissolved, and the Russians officially had moved to Czechoslovakia, where it was our job to monitor them through binoculars, radar, and radio interception from the German side of the border. Some of them, a year before our arrival, had rumbled into Hungary and snuffed a revolution there. Our counter-intelligence corps had an office in Vienna, but we hadn't heard of it then. If anybody knew about it, it was the Russians. Soldiers looking like civilians, with backpacks on BMW motorcycles and maybe Motoguzzis, would emerge from the city mornings, ride due east into the hinterlands, snap shots of Russian installations, and return evenings. There were, of course, other activities, but they were understandably kept under wraps. Of this, though, we knew nothing then. I found myself at an Army post called Fort Skelly, in Regensburg, once used by German Luftwaffe pilots, an old, old city on the Danube in Bavaria. Regensburg was almost as old as Vienna, which could trace its lineage back two millennia to a Roman army outpost on "the frozen Danube." In June, I think it was, 1957, my roommate Jack and I took a two-day pass to Vienna. If we'd had the inclination and the time, we could have dropped a canoe onto the Danube in Regensburg and paddled our way to Vienna in a couple of days, helped along by the current on its way from the Black Forest to the Black Sea. By train the trip took about three hours. Jack and I detrained in the Vienna bahnhof about 5:00 in the evening and set out to discover a hotel, dinner, some wine or beer, and Viennese [End Page 61] women. We found all of these things, except the women, by about 9:00 and decided to chance a dance club we were directed to called the Graben Cafe. From the sidewalk we could walk up half a flight of steps to the entrance to a coffee house. Also from the sidewalk we could see, through tall, uncurtained windows there, a few solitary, hatted men and women at tables reading newspapers over their coffee, looking a lot like my view of World War II. (My memory has unsmiling women, their eyes disclosing nothing, wearing '40s hats). Or we could walk down half a flight of stairs to drinks and perhaps dance partners, so we did. We found a small dance floor, a music trio, and cabaret tables, at about a third of which two or three women per table sat sipping drinks and chatting. Without hats. Couples were at a few of the others. Jack and I sat down at an empty one, ordered drinks, and began smiling at the women, most about our age—early 20s. The empty tables, when we came in, seemed to be across the dance floor from the single women. Now, as we sipped the full-bodied Austrian beer, we tried to look cool, not an easy thing to do, because as soon as we sat down we found we were the objects of their attention, not the other way around. If you're an American, even in your civilian clothes you stand out elsewhere in the world like Donald Duck in a tintype. Or used to. Yes, there was conversation, but all the single women were gazing at us as they spoke. Well, we were the only two single men there—it was early. We settled upon two sitting together and decided we'd start with them. We asked, we danced, we joined them at their table, and an hour later all four of us were out on the sidewalk, laughing and teasing (this was when I discovered Austrian beer was more than six percent...

The Transvaal Rebellion: The First Boer War, 1880-1881 (review)

Reviewed by: The Transvaal Rebellion: The First Boer War, 1880–1881 Stanley H. Palmer (bio) The Transvaal Rebellion: The First Boer War, 1880–1881, by John Laband; pp. xii + 264. London and New York: Pearson Longman, 2005, £19.99, $29.95. "Majuba" no longer has the resonance it once had. This 1881 battlefield victory was long honored in Afrikaner South Africa as a symbol of the white tribe's resistance to Britain's abolition of their South African Republic (Transvaal) of 1852–77. Majuba was an early strike against British imperialism. In post-apartheid South Africa, however, new issues produce new icons. Nowadays visitors can take frequent ferries to tour Robben Island, Nelson Mandela's former prison in Cape Town's harbor, but the state no longer maintains Majuba as a historical site. John Laband's new study, widely and deeply researched from printed and archival materials, is much needed, as Joseph Lehmann's excellent The First Boer War (1972) is now more than thirty years old. Laband has chosen his book's title carefully, for he sees the conflict in 1880–81 as a restricted regional rebellion rather than the "first war of independence." An indicator more of Boer resentments than of incipient nationalism, the conflict near the Transvaal-Natal border was—or should have been—a wake-up call to British incompetence to wage colonial wars against the kinds of fighters that the Illustrated London News derided as "undisciplined bands of yeomen" (157). Laband argues that Britain's military setbacks resulted both from Boer deadliness with small arms fire and from "the ingrained arrogance of the imperial stance" (139)—too many patronizing and contemptuous British officers making poor leadership decisions in the field. The Transvaal Rebellion can be read profitably on two levels: general history and specialist military history. In a crisp, colorful writing style, Laband eases his readers into a description of Boer society and values and British governance of the Transvaal, an area home to only 35,000 Boers and 5,000 British in a vast sea of 750,000 Africans. Although both military systems were small (there were 1,800 British soldiers and 7,000 Boer commandos in the whole Transvaal) they were very different: the British were highly disciplined, drilled, and uniformed; the Boers were ruggedly individualistic. Britain's military rigidly separated officers from enlisted men; the Boers were self-activating egalitarians, although British officers thought of them as "country bumpkins in disreputable civilian clothes" (60). For Laband, one incident vividly illustrates the difference. In the British defeat at Ingogo the dead had to be hurriedly buried, yet British policy was always to bury officers separate from the rank and file. Thus, four days after the battle, a British detail returned to exhume the officers' bodies for later proper reburial; amid constant rain, mud, and scavenging vultures, "many of those opening the pits were violently sick at the disgusting work" (176). Laband also has an eye for irony and humor. As British losses mounted, for example, officers organized [End Page 571] group athletics in order to build morale; the mule race, reported Major-General Sir George Pomeroy Colley, was "great fun" (176). Laband's sympathies seem to lie with the Afrikaners, yet he takes care to be scrupulously fair: while the Boer irregulars were often humane and generous to Britain's wounded or prisoners, he notes that on occasion they would ambush or fire on a white-flag party of Britons. Much of Laband's book is pure military history. Readers eager to recreate, analyze, and critique battles will find fascinating his on-the-ground, sometimes nearly minute-by-minute accounts of the battles of Bronkhorstspruit, Laing's Nek, Ingogo, and Majuba, as well as the sieges of more than a half-dozen British forts throughout the Transvaal. While the book does contain ten handsome drawings and maps, more would have been welcome. The addition of engravings or portraits of the main British and Boer leaders would also have enhanced Laband's story. The Boers' sieges of British forts led mostly to stalemates, but the "country bumpkins" were overwhelmingly successful on the battlefield. Eschewing the high casualties inherent in hand-to-hand fighting, "Boers...

The Struggle for Egypt's Future

Egypt after Hosni Mubarak may look much like it looks now: another military man in civilian clothing in charge of civilian technocrats mismanaging both the economy and the political system.

Learning to Look: A Visual Response to Mavis Gallant’s Fiction by Lesley D. Clement

REVIEWS Lesley D. Clement. Learning to Look: A Visual Response to Mavis Gallant’s Fiction. Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2000. 304. $65.00 cloth, $24.95 paper. Lesley D. Clement’s Learning to Look: A Visual Response to Mavis Gallant’s Fiction is an impressive undertaking, and read­ ers o f Gallant will learn much about her story-writing tech­ niques. Clement takes us through Gallant’s work from her ear­ liest stories in the late 1940s published in Preview through to her most recent work in the New Yorker. For the most part Clement concentrates on Gallant’s visual portrayals of charac­ ters who are caught up in history in ways that make it difficult for them to be authentically part of the world they inhabit. As Clement’s title indicates, one of the main challenges in Gallant’s fiction is “learning to look” — which means to see the past in the present; that is, to see through what appears to be the ob­ vious surfaces to the socially and mentally constructed forms of self and society — a process that the stories demand of both the characters and the reader. In order to bring out the growing sophistication of Gallant’s depiction of our world, Clement turns to the language and con­ cepts of painting. Over the years many critics have commented on Gallant’s masterly use of imagery and painterly techniques. Clement takes this insight one step further in that she demon­ strates how Gallant’s stories mount “a challenge to the bound­ aries erected between the sister arts by embracing both spatial and temporal elements in her fiction” (x). The stories, she sug­ gests, portray characters inhabiting both time, in a sequence of events that march inescapably forward, and space, appre­ hended in a single moment. Clement suggests that Gallant’s early work draws on perspective and different narrative “lines” to develop her insights. The emphasis on line then turns, in the stories of the 1960s and early 1970s, into a rendering of framing and proportion. Later still, Gallant turns to the modulations of light and colour. In her most recent stories she employs the techniques of parody in which various narrative and conceptual planes are simultaneously set in motion. When she turns to the stories themselves, Clement begins naturally enough with early stories such as “Up North” and “Thank You for the Lovely Tea” ; she argues that Gallant em­ 313 ESC 28, 2002 ploys not only a fixed perspective for characters “paralysed through cowardice and inertia into inaction and non-being,” but also secondary perspectives that encourage the reader, if not the characters, to “break the frames enclosing them” (21). In the novel Green Water, Green Sky (1959), composed of connecting short stories, Clement shows how Gallant learned to dissolve the narrative frame by breaking down the difference between fore­ ground and background. Whereas the earlier stories portrayed characters who stood out against their historical background in heightened relief, in Green Water, Green Sky the characters find themselves floating in a world in which the horizon disappears through the merging of background and foreground. As Gallant’s story-telling techniques continued to mature, Clement shows how Gallant finds ever more subtle ways of de­ picting individuals caught in a world that denies them a fixed perspective. She argues persuasively that Gallant’s stories in the 1960s and early 1970s make “visible the consequences of the in­ visibility of symbolic power” (77). These stories lead the reader to penetrate the everyday surfaces through what Clement calls “gaps” and “vacancies” in the story line in order to find the un­ seen forces at work on the characters. This sense of the unseen becoming manifest for the reader, if not the characters, can best be seen in Gallant’s German stories such as “Ernst in Civilian Clothes,” “W illi,” and “The Alien Flower,” although curiously enough Clement has little to say about one of her strongest stories, the novella “The Pegnitz Junction.” Clement is partic­ ularly effective in her treatment of the ways in which Gallant represents the inner displacements of people within a world of damaged landscapes in order to represent modern civilization as...

The effect of uniform and prior knowledge on children's event reports and disclosure of secrets

The present paper examined the effect of police uniform on the accuracy of 6- to 8-year-old children's reports about an event and it explored the roles that interviewer prior knowledge and social status play in mediating any effects of uniform. Two studies were conducted; in the first study, interviewers wore uniforms that were independent of a forensic context whereas in the second study, the interviews were conducted by police officers who wore either uniform or civilian clothes. Children reported more information (accurate, as well as inaccurate) to a police interviewer in civilian clothes compared to uniform. This finding was found only in the police uniform context. Interviewer's prior knowledge had no impact on the children's reports in either context. The likely impact of police uniform is discussed.

Evaluation of clothing systems to determine heat strain.

This article describes the basic evaluation process and test methodology employed when temperature extremes for clothing systems must be considered as part of the U.S. Army's Health Hazard Assessment for material in the development and acquisition process. The goals of the evaluation are to select clothing systems that minimize the hazards of heat strain and to predict the heat strain for persons wearing such clothing. Clothing evaluations begin with biophysical assessments that determine the thermal characteristics (vapor permeability and insulation) for textiles via guarded hot plate tests and for clothing systems via thermal manikin tests. The results from biophysical tests can be used to select the textile and/or clothing with the best thermal characteristics. The data from manikin evaluations also can be used in prediction modeling. Human physiological testing is best done in a controlled laboratory environment, although for realism and user acceptability field trials may also be conducted. Proven test and measurement methods must be employed, and tests must control for confounding variables; subjects serve as their own controls, and test environment and procedures are consistent between trials. The process and test methodology described can be applied to the evaluation of civilian clothing systems as well as to the military systems for which they were developed.

An Indian dilemma

Raj, a 4-day-old baby, has not urinated since birth. Dr Jha gently refers his distraught mother to a paediatrician. Nina is 21 years old and has a breast abscess. Dr Jha tells her he will operate on the abscess in the morning, notices her blanched look, rightly guesses her fear, and reassures her that it is not cancer. I suddenly notice an old schoolfriend sitting across the room from me. She unwraps her scarf to reveal a large dressing on her neck. A recently drained tuberculous abscess discharges pus. While Dr Jha examines her wound, our eyes meet. I am embarrassed to meet her under such conditions and leave the room. On returning, I ask Dr Jha whether clean and well-nourished people can get tuberculosis; the sight of a schoolfriend with tuberculosis has shaken me, as if I expected all those who I know to be free from disease. He replies that tuberculosis is very common throughout India and no one is spared. One of the theatre staff arrives to tell Dr Jha that the theatre is ready for Mr Lal’s cholecystectomy. The rest of the throng outside must wait, most of whom have travelled long distances, many on foot, to seek treatment here. Word has spread far about Dr Jha, who, after finishing at the top of his medical class, went to the UK for specialist training and then returned to India. He cares for his own people. At least half the waiting patients will have a non-surgical complaint, but in India there is no medical system to channel patients to appropriate specialists. Dr Jha is first a general practitioner and then a surgeon, as well as physician, paediatrician, obstetrician, and gynaecologist when needed. Dr Jha rolls up his trousers and shirt sleeves, discards his tie, scrubs up, dons a sterile gown and gloves, and walks into theatre. There is a combination of clean and unclean, qualified and unqualified in the theatre. Although the surgeon wears a sterile gown and uses autoclaved equipment, there are six other people present in civilian clothing. The ward is next to the theatre and the attendants walk freely between the two areas. The theatre door is wide open and one of the ubiquitous houseflies finds its way in; someone reaches quickly for the Baygon spray, filling the room with its intolerable smell. The anaesthetist has been working in this clinic for the past 3 years. Before his arrival, a man with no medical background, personally trained by Dr Jha, carried out all anaesthetic duties, and he still assists when the anaesthetist is unavailable. The other attendants, all without medical training, are familiar with different antibiotic regimens, the various intravenous solutions used, and the general care of patients. This clinic works 365 days a year. Thousands of patients go through its doors, and they share between them just three medically qualified practitioners. Bhagalpur, Bihar, India 2200 h, Dec 4, 1996 I stand by the bedside, holding his hand as he writhes in pain. In the dim candle-light, I notice his bare feet, hardened by years of walking unprotected through sun and rain, his hands callused, scarred, and capped by black nails, his dirty torn kurta, and old khaki pants. I take in the agonised look on his face, the trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth where he has just bitten his lip. I am in the private clinic of Dr Jha, on an elective in India at the end of my fifth year of medical school at Monash University, Melbourne, Australia. Dr Jha is still working in his office so we sit down for a chat. That is when Mr Lal is carried in by his wife and brother. In whispered conversation with his wife, she tells me how Mr Lal was pulling his rickshaw when he suddenly felt a pain in his abdomen. Fortunately, he had been close enough to return home, where he collapsed. His brother and wife had taken him by rickshaw to the local hospital, only to find that the power supply had been cut off, there was a shortage of medications and equipment, and at that time of night help was unavailable. It is now 3 hours since the pain began. Dr Jha diagnoses acute cholecystitits, prescribes analgesia, and admits Mr Lal to the clinic for a cholecystectomy.

Introduction to the Twenty-Sixth Terzaghi Lecture

Dr. James P. Gould delivered the Terzaghi Lecture Innovative Changed Conditions Claims, at the San Francisco Convention of ASCE in November 1990. It was my great pleasure to introduce him. ASCE President John Focht presented the certificate and honorarium. In his lecture, Gould discussed case histories that illustrated his somewhat tonguein-cheek promise to deliver a solemn message that the adversarial climate of construction and engineering is costing us. The evening provided an instructive and captivating view of battles fought on projects fraught with difficulties, through the eyes of a most experienced consulting engineer. The lecture material has since been condensed and supplemented for the paper presented here, which illustrates the continuing problems faced by those who would resolve the disputes that all too frequently arise in heavy underground construction. Jim Gould was raised in Seattle, and graduated with a BSCE from the University of Washington in 1944. He was an active student politician, and was well known for his individuality, a trait that has persisted throughout his career. His yearbook photo with an honorary group shows Jim in civilian clothes, and 48 others in uniform! But graduation was followed directly by a hitch in the Army Engineers. Those who know Jim recall that he often wears his Army belt buckle from those days. After World War II, Jim studied at MIT, where he received his MSCE in 1946, and at Harvard, where he earned the ScD in 1949, working under Arthur Casagrande. Following his studies, Gould went to work for the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation, where for four years he was involved with earth dam projects. In 1953 he left the Bureau to work for Moran, Proctor, Mueser & Rutledge in New York. The firm, started in 1910 by Daniel E. Moran, later became Mueser Rutledge Consulting Engineers, where Jim still works today. It is the oldest foundation-engineering firm practicing in the United States. In his early years at Mueser Rutledge, Jim was known as the office liberal, but his inherent conservatism won out. He became a partner in the firm in 1973. Jim Gould has had an amazingly productive career, with a long list of landmark projects to his credit. Included have been geotechnical work on the U.S. Capitol, The Throgs

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The current analysis characterizes chemical protective clothing (CPC) that would be available to civilian emergency personnel responding to possible ne

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This article considers the conduct of armed parties in the invasion of Panama on 20 December 1989 by United States forces, in relation to the standards established by the international laws of war and the Geneva Conventions of 1949. The article confines itself to the conduct of US and Panamanian armed forces from the commencement of hostilities, and does not consider arguments for or against the invasion itself. The authors, on behalf of the US‐based Americas Watch, a human rights monitoring organization, visited Panama in January 1990, and collected information contained in the article. The article concludes that US forces failed in their Geneva Convention obligations with respect to the detentions of Panamanian POWs and civilians. It also concludes that US forces failed to exercise precautions to minimize collateral civilian casualties in the attack on the Panamanian military headquarters. It finds that Panamanian forces put non‐combatant civilians at risk by dressing in civilian clothes and firing from...

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Developments in the supply of textiles and clothing, local manufacture, and fashions from Europe in the forty years from the first settlement of the penal colony in Sydney, Australia are discussed. There are 60 references.

Civilian Clothing and Fabric Supplies: The Development of Fashionable Dressing in Sydney, 1790–1830

Civilian Clothing and Fabric Supplies: The Development of Fashionable Dressing in Sydney, 1790–1830