Results for: “Social Science”
|Knowles, Anne Kelly||ePub|
Alberto Giordano, Anne Kelly Knowles, and Tim Cole
THE HOLOCAUST DESTROYED COMMUNITIES, DISPLACED millions of people from their homes, and created new kinds of places where prisoners were concentrated, exploited as labor, and put to death in service of the Third Reich’s goal to create a racially pure German empire. We see the Holocaust as a profoundly geographical phenomenon, though few scholars have analyzed it from that perspective.1 We hope this book will change that by demonstrating how much insight and understanding one can gain by asking spatial questions and employing spatial methods to investigate even the most familiar subjects in the history of the Holocaust.
At its most fundamental, a geographical approach to the Holocaust starts with questions of where. Print atlases of the Holocaust, for example, have focused on the location of major concentration camps and Jewish ghettos, the routes of train lines used to transport prisoners to the camps, and the journeys of individual survivors, such as Primo Levi’s path as he sought his way home after being liberated from Auschwitz.2 Other examples include maps of where people were arrested, where they were sent, where they were murdered. The facts of location are basic to understanding any historical event. In the case of the Holocaust, such facts are exceedingly voluminous, because the Nazis kept detailed records of their operations and because many people who were caught up in the events as victims or bystanders recorded where their experiences took place.See All Chapters
|Fernando Armstrong-Fumero||University Press of Colorado||ePub|
In Mexico, there are readers who are apt for the most ample and select literary production, be it European, North American, or Mexican. There is also a disappointing majority that ignores the alphabet. This apparent anomaly could be explained in many ways, but we will refer the following lines to the lack of literary dissemination that has always been notable among us. We have often heard individuals who have recently learned to read say that their hard-won knowledge has proved to be impractical and useless to them. When, for lack of books, one cannot read anything more advanced than the syllabary or the reading book, knowledge of the alphabet seems pointless and unproductive.
Unfortunately, there is no other recourse for the majority of Mexicans who learn how to read, since very few are able to receive a more extensive education or to obtain printings of any other genre. Pamphlets, books, and publications in general have always been a costly article in Mexico and one little suited to the diverse sensibilities of the population. This problem has been ameliorated, albeit deficiently, for the intellectual “elite,” who can pay for what they read, and for the children of the urban schools, who are given textbooks. But what of the rest, the great mass that hopes to treasure knowledge through reading? Are they not worthy of attention?See All Chapters
|David C. Korten||Berrett-Koehler Publishers||ePub|
The great spiritual-religious wisdom traditions of the world have all taught some variant of this message: The deepest human pleasures come from living in a world based on justice, peace, love, generosity, kindness, and celebration of the universe and service to the ultimate moral law of the universe.1
Rabbi Michael Lerner
Gandhi… entered public life as the defender of a small, immigrant minority in a dusty corner of a global empire, but before he was done he had led a movement that, more than any other force, dissolved that empire, and in the process had proposed a way of life in which the constituent activities of existence—the personal, the economic, the social, the political, the spiritual—were brought into a new relationship.2
It is not enough, as many progressives in the United States are doing, to debate the details of tax and education policies, budgets, war, and trade agreements in search of a positive political agenda. Nor is it enough to craft slogans with broad mass appeal aimed at winning the next elections or policy debate.See All Chapters
|Rudolph A. Rosen||Texas A&M University Press||ePub|
No verbal abuse was too strong for her to direct at staff or volunteers. The highly placed officer of the nonprofit organization didn’t really care who was offended. This officer even boasted of her lack of tact. A small corps of people seemed to gain personal benefit in the organization under her shadow, but others were demonized.
Staff or volunteers who did anything the officer didn’t like became the subject of attack. In any conversation she was all knowing. Anyone with real knowledge quickly learned to shut up. She knew just enough to sound like she knew what she was talking about, until you listened long enough to realize she really didn’t.
None of that may have mattered if it wasn’t that this officer also drove away volunteers, donors, and staff. How much her inappropriate actions cost the organization in lost volunteers and investment in staff is hard to say. It’s hard to believe some organizations tolerate such toxic influences, but they do. This is not a story about one person. In my time serving nonprofit organizations, I have met several of these venomous people. They have been shes and hes, officers, spouses of officers, and members of the board. Such people persist in influencing nonprofit organizations because the leadership of nonprofits often function much like a family, with members establishing close, long-term relationships with each other. Families tolerate, forgive, and often turn a blind eye to their dysfunctional members. Many nonprofit organizations do, too, large, small, and in between.See All Chapters
|Shannon Daley-Harris||Berrett-Koehler Publishers||ePub|
Your profession is not what brings home your paycheck. Your profession is what you were put on earth to do. With such passion and such intensity that it becomes spiritual in calling.
— VINCENT VAN GOGH, DUTCH
How do you feel about the work you do? Most of us at some time have had one of those jobs where the minutes drag by and we count the days until we can finally pick up a paycheck and enjoy the weekend. Then there are those jobs that feel more like a calling, where the time flies and at the end of the day we have a deep sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. And at some time in our lives, each of us has most likely known what it feels like to be unemployed or underemployed.
With living wages and full employment, we can create a path out of poverty. UN Millennium Development Goal 1, eradicating extreme hunger and poverty, has a target of cutting in half by 2015 the proportion of people whose income is less than $1 a day.
“Working poor” should be an oxymoron, yet the reality is that millions of people in our nation and billions around the world work hard at jobs every day and still find themselves in poverty. In the United States, about 37 million people (one in eight) live in poverty even though most of them work. Around the world one out of every five people earns less than $1 a day. At worst millions are forced to beg and scavenge or are trafficked as modern-day 32slaves—bought and sold into prostitution, domestic servitude, or agricultural work.See All Chapters
|David C. Korten||Berrett-Koehler Publishers||ePub|
Destructiveness is the outcome of unlived life. Those individual and social conditions that make for suppression of life produce the passion for destruction.1
Being human always points, and is directed, to something, or someone, other than oneself—be it a meaning to fulfill or another human being to encounter. The more one forgets himself—by giving himself to a cause to serve or another person to love—the more human he is and the more he actualizes himself.2
Two of the great psychoanalysts of the twentieth century—Erich Fromm and Viktor Frankl—each had personal encounters with the horror of fascism in Nazi Germany. After World War II each published his reflections on what in the human psyche can drive humans to such destructiveness. Each came to much the same simple yet profound conclusion: the human drive to belong, to connect, to express our presence, is so strong that if our efforts to connect and affirm our existence through positive means are thwarted, that drive will be redirected to negative means.See All Chapters
|Ethelia Ruiz Medrano||University Press of Colorado||ePub|
As we have seen repeatedly, the primacy of land for the Indian pueblos and its interweaving with ancient documents, primordial titles, and local history form part of a complex process of negotiation the pueblos undertook in the face of state power as a way of defending their lands. Such negotiation implies that the Indians understood the official legal landscape, enabling them to interpret from their own cultural vantage point documents, programmatic statements, and agrarian legislation emanating from the state. In this process, moreover, the legalization of land claims, the stamp of official certification, and the primordial titles themselves constitute a kind of contemporary mythology elaborated by the pueblos.1 The Indians’ ability to incorporate—sometimes successfully—elements of their native culture into the most adverse legal contexts stems from their capacity for negotiation, which, in turn, is a function of their ideological flexibility.
The case of Ixcamilpa, a pueblo located in the state of Puebla, is instructive in this regard. In 1912, members of the pueblo went before the revolutionary leader Emiliano Zapata to request the restitution of their lands, which they asserted had been wrested from them long ago by local hacendados. In support of their claim, they produced the pueblo’s colonial-era primordial titles. On this basis and within the framework of the Plan of Ayala, they achieved their objective. On April 30, 1912, Zapata granted the pueblo its lands through a specific decree of restitution. Nonetheless, six decades later many of the pueblo’s campesinos still found themselves without land. Around 1976 they decided to band together and litigate their case in Mexico City, citing the lands affected by the “restitution” and—as documentary evidence—using the decree Zapata had issued in their favor in 1912. The Indians also directly confronted and fought against the local landlords, who reacted with force by having them jailed, using the judicial police and army to pursue and capture them. Undeterred, the Indian campesinos—in keeping with the substance of the 1912 decision—persevered and began to achieve the distribution of the lands that had been controlled by the hacendados, or “the rich,” as the Indians liked to call them.2See All Chapters
|Bob Hammel||Indiana University Press||ePub|
At a time when they would have preferred privacy, to spend some time together helping each other through a great personal and shared loss, the fame of great wealth and prominence exacted another price on Bill Cook’s family, and the circle around him. While grieving his death, they had to be on display, as a public responsibility, and they did so, reluctantly but dutifully.
“Even though he was sick, it wasn’t expected, so it was a shock,” Carl Cook said. “The hardest thing on me was we had to plan visitation, the funeral, the Celebration of Life, all the things that went with that. I didn’t come in to the office for a month. I stayed home.”
Looking back, Aimee Hawkins-Mungle recognizes clues that perhaps Bill Cook knew death was close. “That Thursday morning, before they put him in the hospital, he had called me, wanted me to find Larry Rink—he was having very bad chest pains and he was barely able to talk to me. One thing he said was, ‘Buddy, I’m tired.’”See All Chapters
|Kathryn Allen Rabuzzi||Indiana University Press||ePub|
Throughout history and across cultures, various patriarchal preconceptions have strongly influenced beliefs about the childbearing cycle. Hence, many women experience tension between culturally accepted “knowledge” and our own bodily experiences. Some find that traditional “wisdom” overpowers body language, resulting in its silencing. Others, more independent perhaps, can listen to their own experiences. Thus, understandings of the various stages of childbearing typically run a gamut. Some reflect authentic gynecocentric experiences; others, patriarchally imposed interpretations. Conception, the first of the many stages of childbearing, is no exception.
Today we view conception primarily through a biological lens that teaches us that at birth a woman’s ovaries contain their full quota of potential eggs, some half million or so. Fertilization requires an egg’s male counterpart, a sperm, to swim up as the egg slides down during ovulation. Only if they meet and the sperm attaches to and is accepted by the wall of the egg does conception occur. From this pattern emerges a host of images: the persistent, active male principle opposes and supersedes its passive female counterpart; the chance meeting, out of millions of sperm, of this sperm with that egg becomes in countless love stories the chance meeting of this lover with that; the fusing of sperm and egg becomes the fusing of a kind of androgyne, and so on.See All Chapters
|Beth A. Buggenhagen||Indiana University Press||ePub|
“I want to help pay for the new tile floor in the courtyard for Bintu’s wedding, but I cannot,” said Jigeen, her eyes fixed on the stained concrete floor. “I have to pay my daughters’ school fees because their fathers are not here.”
“Jigeen,” her sister Rama said in a low voice, “we are all doing our share. Abdoul Aziz has already given money and so have our brothers in France and the U.S. We are all adults now and we must support our parents.” She then turned to one of her younger sisters and snapped, “Yalla, bring me some sugar, this coffee is too bitter.” She smiled weakly in my direction and gestured with her glass.
Abdoul Aziz jumped in, raising his voice, “You returned to this house thanks to us. We pay the electricity, the water, and provide sacks of rice every month. You are not doing anything.”
Jigeen leaned back in her chair, facing the street, looking away from her family, and said, “I don’t need anything except what God gives me, only what God gives me. I don’t ask for anything more. I don’t need anything more. I am fine. I am fine. I don’t need you to do anything for me or for my daughters. If you don’t think I should be here, then I will leave.”See All Chapters
|Sheila Hollins||Karnac Books||ePub|
Setting the scene
The Youth Justice Board (YJB), which I have the honour to chair, does not provide services. It commissions and purchases them. And monitors contract compliance and general performance by those agencies that do deliver youth justice services. The latter include the 155 local authority youth offending teams (YOTs) in England and Wales and the various agencies—the Prison Service, several commercial companies and a number of local authorities—that provide closed residential accommodation for those children and young persons, or juveniles, who the criminal courts determine must be held in custody (for a general overview of the role of the YJB see YJB 2004a).
There are currently approximately 2800 children and young persons, aged 10-17 years inclusive, in custody. Most older children aged 15-17—and with this audience, as when I talk to sentencers, I am going to refer to them as children so as to emphasize their status in law and our international rights obligations to them—are overwhelmingly accommodated in Prison Service-managed Young Offender Institutions (YOIs). Those of middling years, and older children who, for one reason or another, cannot cope with life on the mainstream in YOIs, are generally held in one of four commercially-operated Secure Training Centres (STCs). And younger children are generally held in the fifteen local authority secure community homes (LASCHs) with which the YJB contracts.See All Chapters
|Charles Musser||Indiana University Press||ePub|
COMPILED BY CHARLES MUSSER
© No reg.Length: 8 reels.
Cast: Harry Henderson (Tom Bueford), Shingzie Howard (Tom’s sweetheart), William A. Clayton, Jr. (James Stillman), Lawrence Chenault (the father), Arline Mickey (the maid), Ethel Smith.
Production credits: Written and directed by Roy Calnek; presented by David Starkman and Louis Groner.
Production dates: January–February 1926.
Locations: Studio, 58th Street and Woodlawn Avenue (5813 Woodlawn Avenue), Philadelphia.
Description: The story is one that teaches we must be in complete control of our passions and no matter what the provocation let them not get the best of us. It also tells a story with heart interest, filled with occasional thrills and moments of suspense.
Tom Bueford, a member of a good family, has fallen into disgrace through unscrupulous associates and is found in jail serving the last six months of a five-year sentence for manslaughter.See All Chapters
|John McKnight||Berrett-Koehler Publishers||ePub|
THE CONNECTIONS AMONG local people are what awaken the power of families and neighborhoods to weave the social fabric of an abundant and competent community. We have characterized these communities as having three major properties:
Gifts, the raw material for community
Associations, the process through which the gifts are exchanged
Hospitality, what widens our inventory of gifts
Each property feeds the other two. When we focus on gifts, we can create association; when we have strong association, we can offer hospitality. But it can also be said that association builds gifts, and that hospitality invites association. The point is, one doesn’t necessarily come before the other. Enter anywhere you like—the constraints of the printed page create the sequence of discussion here.
Gifts, association, and hospitality create the conditions or rules for what we call the capacities of a competent community. Capacities reside in individuals and can be nurtured to exist in the collective. They are the core elements that need to be visible and manifest to create an abundant community, and a family and neighborhood that function.See All Chapters
|Olga Borovaya||Indiana University Press||ePub|
The case of Salonica is unique in that, from the end of the 1520s through the early twentieth century, Jews formed a majority, or at least half, of the city’s population. Already in 1519, more than 53 percent of the households (i.e., roughly 15,000 people) in Salonica were Jewish.1 Another crucial factor in the history of the Salonican Jewish community in the Ottoman period was its demographics. Earlier, as part of Mehmed the Conqueror’s plan of repopulating the Ottoman capital,2 Salonica’s Greek-speaking (Romaniot) community was deported to Istanbul, so that by 1478 there were no Jews in the city. A new community was established in the 1490s by Jewish immigrants fleeing from persecution in Europe. In 1530–1531, almost 60 percent of Salonica’s permanent inhabitants were Jews,3 forming a community that consisted of twenty Sephardi congregations “comprising 2,548 households and one Ashkenazi congregation made up of 97 households.”4 Only 4.98 percent of the “Sephardic” immigrants were Italian Jews.5 These statistics suggest that the overwhelming majority of Salonican Jews spoke Ibero-Romance languages (mutually understandable, at least in writing)6 and that, forming the majority of the city’s population, they had to use Greek and Turkish much less than their coreligionists in other Ottoman cities. These circumstances contributed to the preservation and dominance of the Ibero-Romance vernacular and to the linguistic homogeneity of the Jewish community, which at the time was the largest in the empire. It is, therefore, not coincidental that the first original works in Ladino, Moses Almosnino’s Regimiento de la vida and Crónica de los reyes otomanos, were produced in the 1560s in Salonica. Following the establishment of the first printing press in the city in 1512, Regimiento de la vida and Crónica de los reyes otomanos, were produced in the 1560s in Salonica. As is well known, it was also famous for its Talmud Torah (founded in 1520), which attracted numerous students from abroad.See All Chapters
|Ethelia Ruiz Medrano||University Press of Colorado||ePub|
Introduction—Back to the Future
Law, Politics, and Culture in Colonial Mexican Ethnohistorical Studies
Historians who surveyed the schools of interpretation within North American scholarship on colonial Spanish America in the 1980s described how social history, history from the bottom up, emerged out of institutional and political history.1 But because all social groups exist within and make use of dense networks of meaning, less than ten years later, a more cultural history—focused on images, mentalities, and the deconstruction of both colonial and scholarly representations of people, places, and processes of change—emerged.2 As issues of representation, memory, and the cultural meanings of hierarchy, hegemony, and power surged to the fore, scholars such as Edward Said and Ranajit Guha wrote evocatively and provocatively about the construction and consciousness of dominators and those who were dominated in the Middle East and South Asia, respectively. Such interests inevitably brought historians back to the study of political and legal institutions.3 These institutions played important, if not determinative, roles in structuring everyday life in racially and class-stratified colonial societies in many parts of the world.See All Chapters