History and Theory最新文献

Bruce Kuklick's Fascism Comes to America: A Century of Obsession in Politics and Culture offers a compact, accessible, and broad-reaching survey of “the linguistic career of fascism” in the United States. The book charts the widespread use of the term “fascism” across US political, cultural, and intellectual discourse from the early 1920s up through the present, arguing that rampant, uncritical overuse, outright abuse, and other hyperbolic deployments of the term have purged “fascism” of its analytic value and effectively negated its meaningful critical capacities. Moreover, Kuklick contends that this US “addiction to fascism” as a way to malign ideological and political enemies and express anxieties about the fragility of US democracy impedes accurate assessment of legitimate problems with the country's political system and traditions. This review essay offers a critical assessment of Kuklick's approach, interrogating what his narrow analytic focus on rhetoric and ideas misses and what nuance gets lost in declaring “fascism” a “political swear word” and little else. This thoroughly researched accounting of fascist invectives succeeds in showing that the term has consistently lacked reliable and substantive meaning, but as a survey, the book falters in collapsing its contexts, treating each and every usage of the term as equal and equally meaningless. Engaging with new scholarship on fascism, antifascism, and the modern US Right, as well as with Black radical political thought on fascism since the 1930s, this review essay challenges Kuklick's conclusion that the term “fascism” should be purged from public and intellectual discourse. In turn, it proposes a set of approaches for how we might continue our engagement with greater precision and analytic care.

Time is so deeply interwoven with all aspects of politics that its centrality to the political is frequently overlooked. For one, politics has its own times and rhythms. Secondly, time can be an object and an instrument of politics. Thirdly, temporal attributes are used not only to differentiate basic political principles but also to legitimize or delegitimize politics. Finally, politics aims at realizing futures in the present or preventing them from materializing. Consequently, the relationship between politics and time encompasses a broad spectrum of phenomena and processes that cry out for historicization. In our introduction to this History and Theory theme issue on chronopolitics, we argue that the concept of chronopolitics makes it possible to do this and, in the process, to move the operation of rethinking historical temporalities from the periphery toward the center of historiographical attention as well as to engage in a dialogue with scholars from a wide range of disciplines. To this end, we propose a broad concept of chronopolitics by discussing existing definitions, by distinguishing between three central dimensions of chronopolitics (the time of politics, the politics of time, and politicized time), and by systematizing possible approaches to studying chronopolitics.

In addition to being heinous crimes, acts of terrorism are complex chronopolitical events. Perpetrators, victims, survivors, families, and authorities manage their relationship to the events by engaging with and giving shape to time, or, rather, to a plurality of times. To perform this time work, they avail themselves of different genres, which serve as chronopolitical tools. This article discusses three such genres: the manifesto, the timeline, and the memorial site. These genres belong not only to different phases of the terror attacks but also to different actors. They are used to shape temporal progression in ways that enable specific forms of action, survival, and memory. The article takes the 22 July 2011 attacks in Norway as an example to map and analyze the role of these chronopolitical genres in managing the multiple times of terror.

The openness of the future is rightly considered one of the qualifying aspects of the temporality of modern society. The open future, which does not yet exist in the present, implies radical unpredictability. This article discusses how, in the last few centuries, the resulting uncertainty has been managed with probabilistic tools that compute present information about the future in a controlled way. The probabilistic approach has always been plagued by three fundamental problems: performativity, the need for individualization, and the opacity of predictions. We contrast this approach with recent forms of algorithmic forecasting, which seem to turn these problems into resources and produce an innovative form of prediction. But can a predicted future still be an open future? We explore this specific contemporary modality of historical futures by examining the recent debate about the notion of actionability in precision medicine, which focuses on a form of individualized prediction that enables direct intervention in the future it predicts.

This article discusses the impact of genomic history, a subdiscipline that emerged in the study of the ancient Mediterranean in the 2010s. In 2014, scientists first published a method for extracting genetic material, which they christened aDNA (ancient DNA), from ancient human remains in hot climates. After a decade of research, genomic history is now poised to transform our understanding of Mediterranean premodernity, centering migration and conflict as the key mechanisms for cultural change. Despite years of critique, aDNA researchers have failed to seriously examine the bioessentialist assumptions implicit in their work—a failure that has led many to deploy language that is strikingly evocative of pre-World War II racialism. Even worse, some genomic historians continue to make troubling overtures toward the ethnonationalist Right, which has been ascendant across Europe and North America since the 2010s. This article traces the intellectual genealogy of genomic history from World War II to the present, examines recent attempts to answer criticism from the humanities and social sciences, and suggests paths for responsible use of aDNA in historical and prehistorical scholarship.

The image of a backward, archaic South whose barbarian population had remained at a low tier of civilization was a child of Italian unification. Not unlike the Orientalist East, the South that meridionalist discourse brought forth was a “chronotopos”—that is, a time-space that had supposedly remained in the past. The war against brigandage in the Mezzogiorno demonstrates the workings of the “politics of historicism.” This article first sheds some light on the grande brigantaggio and on the descriptions of the South that it generated among both contemporaries and later historians, such as Eric Hobsbawm. With the help of Pierre Clastres's and James C. Scott's political anthropology, it then attempts to uncover the structure beneath the “denial of coevalness.” It argues that the dichotomy between the “backward” and the “modern” was based on the political distinction between friend and enemy, which, in the age of historicism, was temporalized; that is, the temporal dichotomy of the savage and the civilized can be understood as the historicist variant of those “asymmetric counterconcepts” that have always served the state and its representatives to demarcate the corpus politicum from other political entities, to justify the state, and to praise the advantages of being governed. In conclusion, the article addresses the close interweaving of state and history, progress and civilization, in the historicist worldview and argues that it was this nexus of state and history that drove the mechanics of time-power.

A failed effort at “reform from above” or a dramatic reassertion of “people power”? Almost thirty-five years on, studies of the Revolutions of 1989 continue to be framed by these two polarities. However, this historiographical focus has meant that scholars have often overlooked the actual content and character of protest itself. This article argues that one way of reinjecting agency and ideas back into our historical understanding of 1989 is through examining the chronopolitics of revolution: that is to say, by addressing how the control and interpretation of time became a political battlefield, a site of contention and negotiation, between Communist regimes, on the one hand, and political activists and society, on the other. Investigating events in the German Democratic Republic and Czechoslovakia, the article contains two central claims: first, that an interrogation of the concept of “chronopolitics” can provide a new angle by which to grasp the revolutionary character of “1989” and the democratic transformations that resulted and, second, by way of inversion, that a study of the temporal experiences across 1989 and the early 1990s can in turn shed light on the analytical value of “chronopolitics” more generally.