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When I asked a friend from Moscow, now an expatriate in Georgia, to explain how Russia could have fallen so quickly into Vladimir Putin's authoritarian regime after the fall of the USSR sometime in the early 2000s, his response was unequivocal: “It was the 1990s, it was a jungle!” The stories he told me afterwards helped me to understand at least a little why the demand for a “firm hand” was so great after 2000.
In the 1990s, household savings were almost completely wiped out and inflation had led to elderly people—“senior citizens” who had given so much to their society and country— begging on the streets and starving to death. I cannot forget the begging grandmothers I used to meet on every corner during my first visits to Moscow. All rules had, it seemed, disappeared from the country [Fig. 30]. The practice of borrowing a sum of money from an acquaintance, a fraction of which could be used to pay a hired assassin who then murdered the acquaintance of the person in question and relieved them of the obligation to repay the loan, was, at the least, said to be commonly practiced. The market for the profession of assassin for hire was reportedly so saturated after the breakup of the elite military units that an assassination for hire cost about $2,000. In the resulting chaos, society became radicalized, allowing nostalgia for the previous regime, neo-Nazis, Stalinists, and religious fanatics to coexist [Fig. 31]. The trauma of this period, duly fed by the resulting Putin propaganda, can be seen as one of the key reasons for Russia's current imperialism.
To better understand the roots of the current situation, in this chapter I would like to address the most recent period—that which corresponds to the last thirty years of Russian history, and not only the artistic aspects. I will, first of all, summarize the salient facts of politics with a special focus on economics in the 1990s. Secondly, I will present the reconstruction of the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour from its much-discussed rebuilding in the nineties to the times when it was included in the celebrated performance of the punk feminist rock band Pussy Riot in 2012.
This book examines the new economic governance (NEG) regime that the EU adopted after 2008. Its novel research design captures the supranational formulation of NEG prescriptions and their uneven deployment across countries (Germany, Italy, Ireland, Romania), policy areas (employment relations, public services), and sectors (transport, water, healthcare). NEG led to a much more vertical mode of EU integration, and its commodification agenda unleashed a plethora of union and social-movement protests, including transnationally. The book presents findings that are crucial for the prospects of European democracy, as labour politics is essential in framing the struggles about the direction of NEG along a commodification–decommodification axis rather than a national–EU axis. To shed light on corresponding processes at EU level, it upscales insights on the historical role that labour movements have played in the development of democracy and welfare states. This title is also available as Open Access on Cambridge Core.
How has migration shaped Mediterranean history? What role did conflicting temporalities and the politics of departure play in the age of decolonisation? Using a microhistorical approach, Migration at the End of Empire explores these questions through the experiences of over 55,000 Italian subjects in Egypt during the late-nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Before 1937, Ottoman-era legal regimes fostered the coupling of nationalism and imperialism among Italians in Egypt, particularly as the fascist government sought to revive the myth of Mare Nostrum. With decolonisation, however, Italians began abandoning Egypt en masse. By 1960, over 40,000 had deserted Egypt; some as 'emigrants', others as 'repatriates', and still others as 'national refugees'. The departed community became an emblem around which political actors in post-colonial Italy and Egypt forged new ties. These anticipated, actual, and remembered departures are at the heart of this book's ambition to rethink European and Mediterranean periodisation.
Prague entered the First World War as the third city of the Habsburg empire, but emerged in 1918 as the capital of a brand new nation-state, Czechoslovakia. Claire Morelon explores what this transition looked, sounded and felt like at street level. Through deep archival research, she has carefully reconstructed the sensorial texture of the city, from the posters plastered on walls, to the shop windows' displays, the badges worn by passers-by, and the crowds gathering for protest or celebration. The result is both an atmospheric account of life amid war and regime change, and a fresh interpretation of imperial collapse from below, in which the experience of life on the Habsburg home-front is essential to understanding the post-Versailles world order that followed. Prague is the perfect case study for examining the transition from empire to nation-statehood, hinging on revolutionary dreams of fairer distribution and new forms of political participation.
When Lady Philosophy suggests that Boethius’ definition of himself as a rational mortal animal is inadequate, it implies that a superior self-understanding is contained within the Consolation. This chapter argues that this more adequate self-understanding – that Boethius, via participation in God, is himself divine – is implicit in the text and unpacks the profound implications and consolations of this interpretation of the self. Being a rational animal is more than being this specific living thing; it is also an opportunity to manifest divine intelligibility and goodness in the world. The chapter focuses on two perplexing arguments in Book IV that are unsatisfying without this interpretation of Boethius’ identity: that the punished are happier than those who escape punishment and that it is possible to attach ourselves to Providence and escape from Fate. The difficulties that most people will face in accepting these arguments are the direct result of the challenge of adopting this self-interpretation.
Boethius’ initial question in the Consolation of Philosophy is why God, who orders the natural universe beautifully, would allow human affairs to proceed in a chaotic fashion, even permitting the wicked to trample on the virtuous and go unpunished. Lady Philosophy responds that God governs everything well. What seem to limited human beings to be misfortunes can all be turned to good. This introduces the importance of human free will and a perennial question for Christian philosophers: If God foreknows future choices, can they be free? Human foreknowledge is a sign that the foreknown event does not happen voluntarily. God, being eternal, sees all time as present, and so divine foreknowledge does not impose or indicate any necessity that would conflict with free will. Boethius concludes by expressing theist compatibilism: Even free choices fall under the absolute sovereignty of God.