Few figures have been more controversial in the history of modern Italy than Luigi Cadorna. When he was appointed Chief of Staff of the Italian Army, in summer 1914, he was already popular with his fellow countrymen. Since May 1915, he became an untouchable autocrat. Enjoying exceptional powers, he governed the war zone – virtually the whole of Northern Italy – with an iron fist, more and more explicitly defying government and parliament who were, he claimed, a bunch of weak, inept, radical progressives who would lead the country to ruin. He was too much of a monarchist to aspire to dictatorship, as some of his supporters actually proposed. But he sincerely believed Italy needed a strong man in command and did his utmost to achieve his purpose. Only the catastrophe of Caporetto in autumn 1917 eventually toppled him. He was relieved of his command, held to account for his performance, and turned into the scapegoat for all the woes of the Italian war: bloodbaths in the trenches, iron discipline, firing squads galore, the home territory overrun. For several years he vanished from the scene until Mussolini, firmly ensconced as dictator, decided to call him back to the public eye.

The Introduction focuses on the experiences of victims of the Holocaust rather than perpetrators. It addresses victims’ perceptions, understandings, reactions, self-help and varied attempts at resistance. It also concerns Roma, mentally and physically challenged individuals, Slavs and Soviet POWs, and homosexuals. Finally, it addresses historiography, as do most of the chapters in this volume.

Chapter 5 demonstrates that in the years 2000–05 a new generation of Russian hawks born around the 1970s, the “Young Conservatives,” acquired a reputation as professional media intellectuals and developed a new type of collective ideological entrepreneurship. They naturalized modernist conservatism’s eclectic blend of concepts into a full-fledged ideology, “dynamic conservatism.” Moreover, they established themselves as a legitimate stratum of Russia’s intellectual elites contributing public policy recommendations.

If the mass of a hadron is large enough, decays into final states that can be reached by strong interaction, that is, without violating any selection rule, are possible. The lifetime is then extremely short, of the order of a yoctosecond (10−24 s). These hadrons decay practically where they were born. We show how they are observed as ‘resonances’.

Hadrons, both baryons and mesons, were discovered in rapidly increasing numbers in the 1950s and early 1960s. How their quantum numbers, spin, parity and isospin were measured. Gradually it became clear that hadrons with the same spin and parity could be grouped in multiplets of the SU(3) symmetry. Proposal of the quark model and experimental verifications of its predictions. With increasing accelerator energies, more surprises were to come. The quarks are not only the three originally known, u, d and s, but three more exist, c, b and t. And more leptons were found, in total three ‘families’ of fundamental fermions, each with two quarks, a charged lepton and its neutrino.

Looking at London, a relatively prosperous area between the wars, this chapter points to the persistence of ambiguous memories of the inter-war period, with partial achievements in social reform, efforts to halt international conflict, and decent standards of consumption recognised alongside poverty, unemployment, and the slide towards war. This chapter establishes some of the challenges that people faced in passing on stories about the past to younger generations shortly after the Second World War, in a landscape in which different political parties were competing to ‘fix’ the memory of the inter-war decades in place.

This chapter opens up a fuller discussion of how sites of socialisation outside the family reworked the meaning of stories about the past. Looking at Huddersfield, it focuses on the consequences of selective grammar schooling for disrupting ‘traditional’ attachments to working-class cultures of politics, shifting people’s class- and place-based identities and weakening the political status of memory. It explores these issues from the perspectives of both socially mobile grammar school leavers and their parents left in Huddersfield. It also highlights cases in which parents and their children concurred about these issues.

This chapter tracks the development of laterals across three generations of Punjabi–English bilinguals living in England. These speakers are hypothesized to speak a Punjabi-influenced contact variety of English that is typically called "British Asian English." In this study, we aim to understand the processes of phonetic and phonological transfer that led to the formation of British Asian English, and how phonetic variation is subsequently adapted and modified by a community. Our study finds that first-generation (Gen1) speakers produce phonetically similar laterals across languages and word positions, suggesting that they have a single crosslinguistic category. In contrast, second- (Gen2) and third- (Gen3) generation speakers show clear acquisition of allophony in English, yet these patterns do not resemble the system reported for the local monolingual accent. Gen3 speakers further show the greatest phonetic distinctions between their English and Punjabi. The results suggest that the English of younger speakers is developing into a distinctive accent that bears similarity to that produced by other British Asian speakers across the UK.

Romantic relationships occur within a larger social, political, and historic context. Although family historians have attended to the changing social meaning and role of romantic partnering across historical time, few scholars have considered that the psychosocial meanings individuals attribute to historic events may shape romantic relationships dynamics. In this chapter, we consider how linkages between historic events and shifts in the socio-political environment of the United States may influence romantic relationships. We begin by reviewing the work of family historians before discussing theories and concepts relevant to examining romantic partnering within a historical context. We provide illustrative examples to highlight the overlap between cohort and historic effects across relationship initiation, maintenance, and dissolution. We conclude by reflecting on the conceptual and empirical challenges and possibilities associated with examining relationships from a historical perspective.

Expertise implies that people are usually good problem solvers in their area of expertise but expertise doesn’t necessarily imply that they are creative. Creativity requires that the solutions are not only correct but also novel and useful. New solutions, such as using dental floss to hang objects on a wall, are needed in daily life when typical solutions are not readily available. One approach to studying creativity is to observe creative people such as artists, sculptors, jazz musicians, and actors. Another approach is to conduct controlled experiments such as evaluating the effectiveness of examples in producing creative products. The Geneplore model of thinking provides a helpful framework for dividing creative thought into generation and exploration phases. Broad states of mind – exploring the environment rather than exploiting accumulated knowledge – contribute to producing novel solutions. In contrast, anxiety can have a negative impact of creativity. Across many diverse content domains from the arts to the sciences, rated anxiety was greater for activities that required creativity.

Chapter 3 considers the making into ‘migrants’ of those who moved and asks what it meant for their kinship relations. It looks at processes of migrant-making through encounters at three different scales: nationally (with the British state), locally (with their neighbours, strangers, and other Christians), and transnationally (with their kin), arguing that migration compressed these two historical generations into one ‘migrant’ generation. At the same time, I show how migrants participated in these processes, particularly vis-à-vis their kin and, in doing so, fuelled the latter’s expectations of economic and other support. Central to the discussion are the ways in which the imaginings of migrant and non-migrant kin diverged post-migration, creating friction transnationally. Christianity also features prominently in this chapter, as migrants sought to make sense of their dashed expectations, while seeking means to pursue their aspirations and cultivate a sense of belonging.

Chapter 1 considers the historical links between physical and social mobility among Kenyans, arguing that becoming ‘someone’ has long been entangled with migrating ‘somewhere’. In doing so, it underscores the shifting centrality of kinship ties to individual and collective well-being against the backdrop of historical and ideational change. It examines the role played by education, which itself is closely entangled with Christian missions, in shaping people’s imagination about what their futures might hold. To understand why families began to look beyond Kenya to secure their futures, it also considers the political, economic, and social uncertainty of the 1990s and early 2000s and the ensuing crisis of social reproduction.

Chapter 4 provides a rich ethnographic analysis of everyday transnational practices of relatedness, including calling, texting, visiting, and sending remittances. It begins by considering power and affect in moral economies of transnational kinship, along with various communicative means of staying in touch across space, to illuminate the factors, contexts, and modes that inform the ways in which kinship dilemmas are experienced. What follows is a look at interactions and exchanges in which kin draw on the discourses and logics of ‘tradition’ and born-again Christianity to negotiate what being related means and entails. In considering specific familial dilemmas, I show how they call into question ideas of migrant personhood and who is materially responsible for whom, illuminating the moral, affective, material, and existential stakes of these transnational practices.

Much migration research takes as its point of departure the migrant and the act of migration. In contrast, the Introduction foregrounds migrants and their families, treating migration projects like those at the heart of the book as domains of interaction between those who move and those who stay. It introduces and situates key concepts and topics, including ‘moral economies of transnational kinship’, imagination and distance, Christianity, and generation. The Introduction also discusses migrants’ arrival in the United Kingdom and the immigration context at the time, as well as the methodology used in conducting multi-sited fieldwork. It concludes with an outline of the book’s six chapters, which consider moral economies of transnational kinship from multiple perspectives and angles, from multiple social and geographic locations.

Devoted to issues of change and continuity, Chapter 6 considers the social reproduction of families, particularly the ways in which ‘change’ and ‘continuity’ (understood as tradition) are drawn upon as tropes in moral economies of transnational kinship. In examining each generation of migrants in turn, I suggest that younger migrants assert ‘continuity through change’, a moral claim with important historical resonances, while older women generate ‘change through continuity’ in familial practices. ‘Change’ emerges as a form of social betrayal, complicating ideas of change as understood in narratives of modernity and in Christianity, particularly its presumed desirability. What is at stake in ‘having changed’, an accusation non-migrants level at migrant kin, are existential questions of personhood and belonging, along with potential access to symbolic and material resources.

Chapter 2 focuses on the migration stories of two generations of Kenyans, situating them within wider family and social histories. Although only one person in a family typically moved, I argue that their migration is better understood as family migration, rather than economic migration. While economic gain and social possibilities are related, they are not the same. Rather, these migration projects marked the convergence of individual and familial aspirations, thereby re-centring kinship as a means of realising the futures of both those who moved and those who stayed. The imaginings of migrant and non-migrant kin are important to this discussion and reveal how the United Kingdom was a largely imagined place at the time of migration, though not an arbitrary migration destination. Alongside this focus on place and space, the chapter begins to explore the role of time and temporality in the self- and life-making projects of migrants and their families.

In a flurry of activity that peaked in the late 1950s, a cohort of activists from the region encompassing present-day Malawi, Zambia, Uganda and mainland Tanzania participated in a global landscape of anticolonial activism. They travelled to hubs like Delhi, London, Cairo and Accra, navigating Cold War internationalisms as students, exiles and political representatives. They formed committees, manned offices, published pamphlets, launched newsletters and corresponded with international organisations. And yet, often, their committees collapsed, they struggled with stationery shortages, their pamphlet manuscripts were rejected, their newsletters were prevented from reaching readers and they were let down by organisations. The introduction asks how to understand this story against a historiographical backdrop that narrates global anticolonialism through the violent hotspots of international decolonisation. It proposes a microspatial perspective and the conceptual framework of an anticolonial culture, arguing that this regional cohort, by some measures marginal, can help us understand the limits of transnational activism in the unfolding of decolonisation.