Robinson Crusoe's call to adventure and do-it-yourself settlement resonated with British explorers. In tracing the links in a discursive chain through which a particular male subjectivity was forged, Karen Downing reveals how such men took their tensions with them to Australia, so that the colonies never were a solution to restless men's anxieties.

Drawing on a wealth of primary and secondary sources, this book explores how far imperial culture penetrated antipodean city institutions. It argues that far from imperial saturation, the city 'Down Under' was remarkably untouched by the Empire.

Using the presence of the past as a point of departure, this books explores three critical themes in Southeast Asian oral history: the relationship between oral history and official histories produced by nation-states; the nature of memories of violence; and intersections between oral history, oral tradition, and heritage discourses.

For a British Empire that stretched across much of the globe at the start of the nineteenth century, the interiors of Africa and Australia remained intriguing mysteries. The challenge of opening these continents to imperial influence fell to a proto-professional coterie of determined explorers. They sought knowledge, adventure, and fame, but often experienced confusion, fear, and failure. The Last Blank Spaces follows the arc of these explorations, from idea to practice, from intention to outcome, from myth to reality. Those who conducted the hundreds of expeditions that probed Africa and Australia in the nineteenth century adopted a mode of scientific investigation that had been developed by previous generations of seaborne explorers. They likened the two continents to oceans, empty spaces that could be made truly knowable only by mapping, measuring, observing, and preserving. They found, however, that their survival and success depended less on this system of universal knowledge than it did on the local knowledge possessed by native peoples. While explorers sought to advance the interests of Britain and its emigrant communities, Dane Kennedy discovers a more complex outcome: expeditions that failed ignominiously, explorers whose loyalties proved ambivalent or divided, and, above all, local states and peoples who diverted expeditions to serve their own purposes. The collisions, and occasional convergences, between British and indigenous values, interests, and modes of knowing the world are brought to the fore in this fresh and engaging study.

Fairness and Freedom compares the history of two open societies - New Zealand and the United States - with much in common. Both have democratic polities, mixed-enterprise economies, individuated societies, pluralist cultures, and a deep concern for human rights and the rule of law. But all of these elements take different forms, because constellations of value are far apart. The dream of living free is America's Polaris; fairness and natural justice are New Zealand's Southern Cross. Fischer asks why these similar countries went different ways. Both were founded by English-speaking colonists, but at different times and with disparate purposes. They lived in the first and second British Empires, which operated in very different ways. Indians and Maori were important agents of change, but to different ends. On the American frontier and in New Zealand's Bush, material possibilities and moral choices were not the same. Fischer takes the same comparative approach to parallel processes of nation-building and immigration, women's rights and racial wrongs, reform causes and conservative responses, war-fighting and peace-making, and global engagement in our own time-with similar results. On another level, this book expands Fischer's past work on liberty and freedom. It is the first book to be published on the history of fairness. And it also poses new questions in the old tradition of history and moral philosophy. Is it possible to be both fair and free? In a vast array of evidence, Fischer finds that the strengths of these great values are needed to correct their weaknesses. As many societies seek to become more open - never twice in the same way, an understanding of our differences is the only path to peace.

Paul R. Bartrop examines the formation and execution of Australian government policy towards European Jews during the Holocaust period, revealing that Australia did not have an established refugee policy (as opposed to an immigration policy) until late 1938. He shows that, following the Evian Conference of July 1938, Interior Minister John McEwen pledged a new policy of accepting 15,000 refugees (not specifically Jewish), but the bureaucracy cynically sought to restrict Jewish entry despite McEwen's lofty ambitions. Moreover, the book considers the (largely negative) popular attitudes toward Jewish immigrants in Australia, looking at how these views were manifested in the press and in letters to the Department of the Interior. The Holocaust and Australia grapples with how, when the Second World War broke out, questions of security were exploited as the means to further exclude Jewish refugees, a policy incongruous alongside government pronouncements condemning Nazi atrocities. The book also reflects on the double standard applied towards refugees who were Jewish and those who were not, as shown through the refusal of the government to accept 90% of Jewish applications before the war. During the war years this double standard continued, as Australia said it was not accepting foreign immigrants while taking in those it deemed to be acceptable for the war effort. Incorporating the voices of the Holocaust refugees themselves and placing the country's response in the wider contexts of both national and international history in the decades that have followed, Paul R. Bartrop provides a peerless Australian perspective on one of the most catastrophic episodes in world history.

Presents the experiences of two burgeoning cities and the Irish people that helped to establish what it was 'to be Irish' within themSet within colonial Melbourne and Chicago, this book explores the shifting influences of religious demography, educational provision and club culture to shed new light on what makes a diasporic ethnic community connect and survive over multiple generations. The author focuses on these Irish populations as they grew alongside their cities establishing the cultural and political institutions of Melbourne and Chicago, and these comparisons allow scholars to explore what happens when an ethnic group so often considered 'other' have a foundational role in a city instead of entering a society with established hierarchies. Forging Identities in the Irish World places women and children alongside men to explore the varied influences on migrant identity and community life.

Andrew Dilley offers a major new study of financial dependence, examining the connections this dependence forged between the City and political life in Edwardian Australia and Canada, mediated by ideas of political economy. In doing so he reconstructs the occasionally imperialistic politic of finance which pervaded the British World at this time.

A new interpretation of imperialism and environmental change, and the anxieties imperialism generated through environmental transformation and interaction with unknown landscapes. Tying together South Asia and Australasia, this book demonstrates how environmental anxieties led to increasing state resource management, conservation, and urban reform.

Some of South Africa’s finest academic minds look back at twenty years of democratic rule.

How far have we really come? Is race still an entrenched issue in our country? Why does gender discrimination continue? Why are the poor in revolt? Is free expression under threat? What happened to South African Marxism? What drives Julius Malema? How have the unions experienced the post-apartheid years?

These (and many other) questions run through pages that, amongst other things, bring back the voices of both Neville Alexander and Jakes Gerwel. Analytical and accessable, this book continues a long tradition of engaging South Africa’s politics and society in a non-partisan, but critical, fashion.

It opens the way for innate explanations and provides insights that lie beyond the workaday accounts on offer by pundits.

An exploration of the little-known yet historically important emigration of British army officers to the Australian colonies in the aftermath of the Napoleonic Wars. The book looks at the significant impact they made at a time of great colonial expansion, particularly in new south Wales with its transition from a convict colony to a free society.

"Bloody Pacific" tells the real story of the attitudes and behaviour of American fighting men in the war against Japan, revealing much about the nature of this terrifying conflict that has until now remained unknown. Based on years of research and using countless unpublished diaries and letters, Schrijvers sweeps across the battlefields, from the desperate stand at Guadalcanal to the tragic sinking of the USS Indianapolis, and from the daunting spaces of the China-Burma-India theatre to the fortress islands of Iwo Jima and Okinawa. In a manner that is often unsettling, "Bloody Pacific" brings to life the GIs' epic struggle with suffocating wilderness, debilitating diseases, and Japanese soldiers choosing death over life.
Amid the frustration and despair of this war, American soldiers abandoned themselves to an escalating rage against nature and man - and prayed for the bombs that would wipe away Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Madness in the Family explores how colonial families coped with insanity through a trans-colonial study of the relationships between families and public colonial hospitals for the insane in New South Wales, Victoria, Queensland and New Zealand between 1860 and 1914.

The question is as searing as it is fundamental to the continuing debate over Japanese culpability in World War II and the period leading up to it: "How could Japanese soldiers have committed such acts of violence against Allied prisoners of war and Chinese civilians?" During the First World War, the Japanese fought on the side of the Allies and treated German POWs with respect and civility. In the years that followed, under Emperor Hirohito, conformity was the norm and the Japanese psyche became one of selfless devotion to country and emperor; soon Japanese soldiers were to engage in mass murder, rape, and even cannibalization of their enemies. Horror in the East examines how this drastic change came about. On the basis of never-before-published interviews with both the victimizers and the victimized, and drawing on never-before-revealed or long-ignored archival records, Rees discloses the full horror of the war in the Pacific, probing the supposed Japanese belief in their own racial superiority, analyzing a military that believed suicide to be more honorable than surrender, and providing what the Guardian calls "a powerful, harrowing account of appalling inhumanity...impeccably researched."