The medieval Iberian past is romanticized for many contemporary Spaniards as a time of glorious heroism. Various Spanish festivals restage medieval conflicts and customs, annually resurrecting the medieval past. Though often viewed as harmless entertainment, these celebrations reinforce problematic depictions of religious "others," particularly Jews and Muslims. Drawing on audiovisual and material sources, I argue that three specific historicized traditions-Leon's matar jud & iacute;os cocktail, Badajoz's al-Mossassa festival, and the widespread Moros y Cristianos festivals-influence popular historical knowledge through embodied, affective, and state-supported heritage that privileges Christian perspectives while perpetuating centuries-old stereotypes and obscuring the complex legacy of the "Reconquista."
This article takes irregular migration across the Central Mediterranean as a lens through which to reflect on the challenges of writing a history of the present. Although widely analyzed and discussed by the media, journalists, and social scientists, this defining phenomenon of our time has received little attention from historians. This silence reflects a persistent conviction within the discipline that recent or unfolding events do not belong within the scope of historical research. The case of Mediterranean migration reveals, however, that this lack of historical perspective is not without consequences and indeed provokes distortions, including misleading analogies across disconnected time periods and the collapse of chronology, leaving interpretations of the present vulnerable to anachronism. The article also challenges the common claim that recent dynamics lack enough documentary evidence to be studied through historical methods. Questioning these traditional limits, the article points instead to the new methodological possibilities of the history of the present. Drawing from the Mediterranean case, it suggests that the history of the present offers a starting point for rethinking both the discipline's epistemological assumptions and its social role.
An oil painting currently titled "Portrait of a Lady Holding an Orange Blossom" acquired by the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto in January of 2020, has been subject to much discussion regarding the sitter, whilst the painter was quickly identified as Jeremias Schultz (1723-1800). It is generally acknowledged that it was painted in the early 1770s in the Dutch Republic, the northern part of the Netherlands. A plain Enlightenment portrait, it at most echoes the Dutch Golden Age. The apparent identity of the subject and her relationship with the painting's commissioner represent an unusual ethno-cultural interaction in the late Dutch Republic. This article discusses the painting and what it displays, as well as its painter. It considers the link between the painting's commissioner, Ferdinand Dejean, and the sitter, who, through substantial documentary and iconographic evidence, appears to be the Javanese Anna or "Anna Maria called Canangan from Java," as her baptismal record reads. The article then analyzes the significance of this portrait through evidence about its subject and its creator.
This article discusses the historical veracity of a 1937 novel, Jaya Somanath (Victory to the Somanatha) by K.M. Munshi. In 1024, Ghaznavid ruler Mahmud (r. 998-1030) plundered the Hindu shrine Somnath, a significant location within the sacred geography of Hinduism, and Munshi utilised this event to further his ideology in the novel. In the Indic literary tradition (Khayat, Prabandha, etc.), fiction is typically used to advance certain normative ideas related to kingly etiquette. These narratives were often produced as part of a "psychological resistance" against the contemporary Indo-Persian historical narratives. This paper assesses the literary significance and historical accuracy of Jaya Somanath by placing it in conversation with certain pre-modern Indic and Persian narratives. Was Jaya Somanath the extension of the Indic literary narratives? Or did Munshi utilise the medium of fiction to advance certain traits of "Rajput-hood" to reinforce Indic pride in the twentieth century?
The arrival of Mahinda Thera in third-century BCE Sri Lanka is a foundational moment in the island's religious and cultural history and has been traditionally viewed as the formal introduction of Buddhism. Celebrated in classical sources such as the Mah & amacr;vamsa, D & imacr;pavamsa, Samantap & amacr;sadik & amacr;, B & omacr;dhivamsa, and Nik & amacr;ya Sangrahaya, these narratives blend historical recollection with mythic embellishment and religious idealism. This study critically re-examines the princely monk's journey through the intersecting frameworks of myth, memory, and mission, drawing from literary chronicles, commentaries, and inscriptions in early Br & amacr;hm & imacr; script. Particular attention is given to epigraphic evidence that supports the presence and legacy of these mission, as well as foreign perspectives such as Xuanzang's (Hiuen Tsiang) travel account, which enrich the broader context of religious memory. The role of Emperor Asoka and Sri Lankan King Devanampiyatissa (250-210 BCE), whose patronage institutionalized Buddhism through the construction of key sites such as Th & umacr;p & amacr;rama and Mihintal & emacr;, is also analyzed. The study traces the formation of Bhikkhu lineage, focusing on the spiritual and institutional significance of ordination, education, and monastic foundations, especially Mah & amacr;vih & amacr;ra. This assessment reveals how historical memory and mythic tradition were deliberately intertwined to sustain religious authority and cultural identity. The legacy of Mahinda endures as both a hagiographic figure and a historical actor of a transformative mission. By distinguishing between sacred memory and historical evidence, this paper contributes to a more nuanced understanding of early Buddhist transmission and the dynamics of religious-cultural integration in ancient Sri Lanka.
When the Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) was founded in 1960, it was still part of the old leftist League for Industrial Democracy (LID). The LID had been founded in the early 1900s and was concerned with educating people on social-democratic issues as well as supporting labor unions and socialist causes. After the SDS expressed its views in The Port Huron Statement in 1962, ideological and strategic differences between the New Left and Old Left became apparent. The LID wanted to focus on an educative strategy in the postwar anticommunist era, while the SDS supported an activist approach regarding foreign policy, civil rights, and income inequality. However, the SDS remained under the authority of the LID for the time being. In 1963, the SDS's activist anti-poverty program, the Economic Research and Action Project (ERAP), demonstrated the Old Left and New Left differences. As shown in the activities of ERAP which receives special attention in this essay, these differences led to the separation of the LID and SDS by 1965. As a result of this separation, the SDS was free to develop and revive the American Left as an active force in American politics and society.
In British colonial societies, regime security was sustained by police systems with strong elements of "political policing." In India, when anti-British protests began, the police in heterogenous metropolitan cities emerged as the government's strong arm, exuding authoritarianism and indiscriminate use of power. However, even after the disintegration of the British regime, the inherited police structures remained. Reviewing the period between 1947 and 1971 through archival records, published news reports, and personal interviews, this paper argues that in Madras city (Chennai) the commissioner system continued following its colonial antecedents even after independence, sustaining similar patterns of authority and bureaucracy, despite criticisms of jurisdictional conflict and abuse of power. The evidence suggests that interference from the government and political interest groups sustained the bureaucratic nature of the police and impacted independent decision-making, which rendered the commissioner system fragile and weak in handling a robust and turbulent post-colonial society.
Erzincan was not only an important industrial and trade centre but also served as the headquarters for an Ottoman army during the First World War. From the winter of 1915 onward, Russia held the strategic initiative on the nearby Caucasus front. In May 1915, Turkish forces exterminated the local Armenian population, an episode in the genocide of Armenians whose loyalty to the Ottoman cause was supposedly suspect. When the Russian army reached the town on 25 July 1916 (Julian calendar), its farthest point of advance in the war, it captured a largely empty town in only two days. This battle was the last major combat action between Ottoman and tsarist Russian forces on this front. While the victory opened the way for the Russian military to the Ottoman interior, for it threatened Sivas and the main road to Angora (Ankara), the February Revolution of 1917 halted all Russian military operations. The subsequent departure of Russian troops gave the Turks the opportunity to recover their pre-war frontiers. On 18 December 1917 at Erzincan, they signed an armistice with the Transcaucasian Commissariat, which formally brought the fighting between Turks and Russians in the Caucasus to an end.
The abolition of the bawih system marked a decisive shift in the social and political landscape in Mizo society (Northeast India). In this system, individuals bound themselves to a chief's household, offering labor and loyalty in return for protection and subsistence. Though it acted as a rudimentary safety net, it entrenched hereditary servitude and strengthened the chiefs' hierarchical power. Under British colonial rule, the system was preserved through indirect administration, as it was seen as a stabilizing institution rather than outright slavery. Over time, missionaries, various chiefs, and segments of the local population began to challenge the practice on moral and social grounds. Through persistent debates, petitions, and public acts of emancipation, the movement gradually built momentum. By the late 1920s, formal abolition was achieved, undermining the chiefs' economic foundation and fostering new ideals of equality, collective identity, and political participation in the region. This transformation laid the groundwork for later democratic reforms and social change.
After William Penn received the charter for Pennsylvania from King Charles II, he deliberately promoted immigration of non-English speaking peoples to his province through promotional tracts that circulated throughout England and, after translation, on the continent. Over time, as the number of immigrants increased to almost one-third of the colony's population, both Parliament and the Pennsylvania Assembly passed naturalization laws that granted them the same rights as native-born English migrants: the right to own property, to participate in the mercantilist system, and to vote and hold political office. This article explores the impact of naturalizing immigrants on colonial Pennsylvania.
