Whose postcolonialism? The French and their colonial past.

Dr. Emile Chabal will be speaking in a joint event on Wednesday 7 October, co-sponsored by the Centre for Modern & Contemporary History. Here he blogs on some of the themes to be discussed at this week’s seminar, in the first of a series of occasional guest pieces by visiting speakers and contributing historians around the world.


Fagairolles 34, reproduced under Creative Commons via Wikimedia.

Memorial to French dead in Algerian War of Independence, Sète, France. Photo by Fagairolles 34, reproduced under Creative Commons license via Wikimedia.

Emile Chabal, University of Edinburgh

In my recent book, I place postcolonial questions at the heart of contemporary French politics. I argue that apparently insular debates about citizenship and the nation are, in fact, closely tied to France’s colonial past and its postcolonial present. I also argue that it is impossible to analyse the key dividing lines in French politics without understanding the attitudes of political actors to France’s colonial project.

Yet, over the course of my research, I have discovered just how nationally – and linguistically – bounded postcolonialism really is. There is a common misconception that France has not “dealt with” its colonial past and that French academia has been extremely hostile to postcolonial theory. To some extent this is true. Postcolonial studies courses, for instance, are still a rarity in university literature departments in France.

But this is hardly the whole story. In fact, one could easily argue that France has had a much more vigorous debate about its colonial past than almost any other country in Europe, especially the UK. Since the late 1990s, issues like colonial violence, torture and the relationship between Islam and the French colonial project have been at the forefront of public debate. Even if we go further back into the 1970s and 80s, postcolonial questions were clearly visible in the identity politics of France’s substantial pied-noir community.

So what’s the problem? Why do British and American scholars of France maintain that France has failed to come to terms with its colonial past?

The difficulty, it seems to me, is one of definition. Most people would accept that, in North America, the UK and South Asia, discussions of postcolonialism emerged from the disciplines of literary criticism and social theory through the works of Edward Said, Gayatri Spivak and others.[1] By contrast, the genealogy of postcolonialism is quite distinct in France, where it has been local politicians, activists and non-governmental organisations who have grappled with colonialism and its legacy.

This means that, while much of the debate surrounding postcolonialism in the English-speaking world has focused on “texts” and “representations”, in France it has focused on street names, memorials, museums, parliamentary laws and issues of historical memory.

One of the consequences of this is that postcolonialism has had a much wider reach in France than elsewhere. Instead of being confined to university departments and research seminars, the question of how colonialism should be remembered, what its impact was and what sort of legacy it has left is one that is fought out in the public sphere.

There are few better examples of this than a 2005 legislative package which included a clause to ensure that French schools teach the “positive” aspects of colonisation. Predictably, this caused huge controversy. Pied-noir organisations, who had been the driving-force behind the legislation came out strongly in favour of it, while historians and left-wing political organisations lined up to criticise it. Eventually, the offending clause was removed from the legislation by presidential decree, but this did little to stop a far-reaching discussion of French colonialism in every major press and media outlet.

The whole affair was a stark reminder that, even though the development of postcolonial ‘theory’ was a distinctly Anglophone phenomenon, the French have been no less engaged with their colonial heritage. It is simply that, as with so many other things in France, the political and partisan aspects of postcolonialism have always been much more prominent than its academic manifestations.


[1] It is worth noting, however, that there have been many distinguished Francophone theorists of colonialism (including Édouard Glissant, Aimé Césaire and Frantz Fanon), and that many Anglophone postcolonial theorists were inspired by French thinkers like Jacques Derrida. So, even in this strictly theoretical definition of postcolonialism, the French are present.

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Autumn 2015 Week 2 Seminar: Vincent Hiribarren (KCL) & Emile Chabal (Edinburgh): Hiding the Past, Shaping the Future: the Politics of Archives, Citizenship, and Belonging in the ‘Postcolonial’ Present

HiriChabal copy

The Week 2 Modern and Contemporary History Research Seminar is on Wednesday 7 October 2015, at 16:30h in the Danford Room (Arts Building, 2nd Floor) (note change from usual time). We are delighted that it is organized in conjunction with DASA Africa Talks and will be delivered by: Vincent Hiribarren and Emile Chabal, with comments from Berny Sebe. All our welcome and there will be drinks afterwards.

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Calendar of Centre for Byzantine, Ottoman and Modern Greek Studies Research Seminar, Autumn 2015

Autumn Term 2015 is looking like a great term for research seminars over in BOMGS!

8 Oct, Students of the Centre: “Travellers’ Tales”

15 Oct, Michael Jeffreys (Oxford): “Women of the Komnenian house under Manuel I, as seen in the poems of Manganeios Prodromos”.

22 Oct, Michael Angold (Edinburgh): “Nicholas Mesarites: a man for all seasons”

29 Oct, Christopher Wright (London): “On the spot: the appanage in Palaiologan politics”

12 Nov, Anthony Kaldellis (Ohio): “Lessons from a new History of Byzantium, 955-1097 AD”

19 Nov, Rowena Loverance (London): “What’s in a name?’ Sculptors and workshops in eleventh-century Greece”

26 Nov, Jonathan Shepard (Oxford): “Persons, practices and things in circulation between Byzantium and the British Isles in the Viking Age”

3 Dec, Mike Carr (Edinburgh): “Constantinople, Cairo or Alexandria? Latin merchants and papal trade exemptions in the late Medieval Mediterranean”

10 Dec, Margaret Mullett (Washington, D.C., Vienna, Belfast): “Peformability, laments and the Christos Paschon”


Cairo, Vienna, Athens: Empire and Class on Planet Bailout.

Aufruf (Anleihe), Vˆlkerbundanleihe, 1923.06.01
Aufruf (Anleihe), Völkerbundanleihe, 1923.06.01. (League of Nations Loan, Austrian tranche issue date: 1 June) Bildarchiv Austria, PLA16304352.

Nathan Marcus


HSE, St. Petersburg

The debates surrounding the Greek bailout have prompted a look at historical examples of foreign financial assistance. Writing on colonial bailouts and the Austrian financial reconstruction of the 1920s, Jamie Martin discerns continuities that boil down to curtailing a state’s sovereignty in order to ensure the servicing of foreign debt. Installing foreign commissions of control that curtailed fiscal policy and public spending, from the Ottoman Public Debt Administration or the bailout of Egypt’s Khedive to the League of Nations’ schemes during the interwar period, prevented default or allowed for the provision of new foreign loans.[1]

Martin concludes by criticizing the League’s interwar interventions for introducing semi-colonial methods to Europe, noting the dangers such a precedent created for the future sovereignty of European states. Of course sovereign states are never completely free to do as they please. Nor does it seem unreasonable that creditors of bankrupt states link the supply of new capital, or the partial forgiveness of existing debt, to certain conditions. This is particularly true in cases where public funds or state guarantees are involved because private institutions refuse to lend money at reasonable interest rates. What is reminiscent of colonialism then, is not the partial curtailing of sovereignty itself, but rather the kind and the extent of conditions that are imposed and they way they get realized, sometimes against the explicit will of voters.

Key to Martin’s argument is that the League’s financial assistance programmes, foremost the Austrian reconstruction scheme of the 1920s, were extensive creditor-imposed infringements of sovereignty not unlike their colonial precedents in Egypt and elsewhere, and that they went on to inspire IMF Structural Adjustment Programs in the post-WWII era. The Austrian intervention is, on this account, an important pivot from disciplining the Khedive to disciplining Alexis Tsipras. And while it is indeed helpful to look at these programmes through the wide-angled lens of financial imperialism across the twentieth century, we must not neglect the transnational and domestic class relations and specific social histories that underpinned such interventions. The League assistance provided to Austria did provoke loud outcries about the alleged “Ottomanization” of the country, both from the Socialist left and the Pan-German right, but it was also welcomed by Austria’s industrial and administrative elites. Upon League General Commissioner Alfred Zimmerman’s arrival in Vienna, the liberal Neue Freie Presse hailed him as a “friend of Austria” and wrote:

The General Commissioner will not act like a Tyrant, he will only strengthen the government’s backbone, he will give it the moral authority to do what it itself desires to do and what it must do in order to live up to its commitments and prevent a relapse into the economics of stagnation and bankruptcy.[2]

Installing a form of foreign control in Austria was thus not a measure all its citizens were equally opposed to. There is every reason to believe that the conservative Chancellor and former Prelate Ignaz Seipel himself pushed for the idea, which was coupled to a so-called Empowerment-law that would allow him to rule by decree and outflank the strong socialist opposition. But local elites welcomed the League and its measures not just as a bastion against socialism, but also as a guarantor for what they considered sound economic policy, budgetary transparency and important socioeconomic change. At the core of Austria’s predicament were its enormous budget deficit and the destructive hyperinflation it entailed, both of which required heavy and unpopular cut-backs in fiscal spending. The League’s involvement provided the government with a tool to overcome a disastrous political and budgetary stalemate and, more importantly, with a scapegoat to blame for unpopular measures and thereby safeguard political peace in the country.[3]

The truth is that Mr Zimmerman hardly played any meaningful role beyond that of a useful scapegoat. Even before the League loan for Austria had been floated on foreign capital markets, Austrian Chancellor Seipel and his government mocked Zimmerman, ignored his inquires and circumvented his control whenever possible. Zimmerman himself became increasingly frustrated and disillusioned (he blamed the fact that the empowerment law had not been implemented as agreed), but the League of Nations was too invested (perhaps much like the European leaders in Greece today) to announce the project a failure – and so it kept up public impression that it was coming along as planned. The reconstruction scheme still proved an initial success, with foreign confidence in Austria rebounding and foreign capital flowing into the country, contributing to a boom on the Vienna stock-exchange, the flow of foreign loans to its banks and industries and short-term financing of its foreign trade.

The main reason for the temporary success of the League ‘s intervention lay not in foreign control of Austria’s budget, the pledging of revenues to foreign creditors and an infringement of Austrian sovereignty. Much like Greece today, the country’s economy was in dire need of hugely unpopular reforms, but the country’s political parties were too divided or lacked the necessary trust to find common ground and agree on changes. While politicians believed cutbacks were necessary, they were unwilling to take the blame and pay the political cost of implementing them. Meanwhile industrialists and bankers knew that only foreign loans could help rebuild the Austrian economy.[4] The most important contribution of the League was hence to give the government and the opposition the necessary moral and political cover to implement unpopular, but necessary changes, while blaming the cost in unemployment on Zimmerman, foreign financial interests, the League of Nations in Geneva, or even the Bank of England. The result was a balanced budget, a stable currency and economic recovery.

As charges of financial imperialism continue to be raised, its relationship to domestic class conflict should not be overlooked, even if the specifics of the latter are harder to grasp from case to case. Debt restructuring or financial reconstruction like in 1920s Austria inevitably required the balancing of public accounts through the curtailment of government expenditures and an increase in taxation. Given the existing balance of power between capitalists, industrialists, and the army on one hand and workers and unions on the other, supporting local elites’ self-allocated “right” to determine the nature of “their country’s” economic policies might have been the easiest way to lower borrowing costs. Where European intervention in nineteenth century Egypt, the League in 1920s Austria and the IMF’s Structural Adjustment Programs after WWII invariably failed was to protect those weakest in society from the costs of economic reform. Serving as a scapegoat, such interventions helped and sometimes encouraged entrenched national elites to impose measures in ways that disproportionately hurt the economically weak or politically powerless. It is this seeming disregard for the plain human suffering incurred by foreign bailouts that continues to evoke connotations of colonialism.

Importantly, after the League left Austria in 1926, the political polarization and blame-game returned and very quickly made Austria ungovernable. Political and economic elites squandered the opportunities League control had provided them with and instead led the country from one financial crisis to another. The fact that in Greece it is the left-wing Syriza that has negotiated reforms to supposedly heal the country’s economy might therefore present an important break in the continuity of economic government. If Syriza indeed gets re-elected and manages to form a coalition it will be a left-wing led government that will be forced to implement creditor demands in Greece, a fact that might or might not bode well for the future political stability of the country. Either way, observers of the situation will be well advised to pay close attention not just to creditor colonialism but also to internal Greek politics and class relations, which will significantly determine how it ends up exiting the current imbroglio.


[1] Mauro Megliani, Sovereign Debt: Genesis- Restructuring-Litigation (Springer, 2015), pp. 68-71.

[2] “Ankunft des Generalkomissärs in Wien“ in Neue Freie Presse, 15 Dec. 1922, p. 1. The original text reads as follows: „Der Generakomissär wird nicht den Tyrannen spielen, er wird nur der Regierung das Rückgrat stärken, er wird ihr die moralische Autorität geben das zu tun, was sie selber tun will und was sie tun muss, um ihren Pflichten zu genügen und den Rückfall in die Versumpfung und Bankerottiererwirtschaft zu verhindern.“ True to its political orientation, the socialist Arbeiterzeitung ignored Zimmerman’s arrival and the following day chose to mock the Neue Freie Presse’s adulations, commenting that with the General Commissioner’s appearance, Austria had ceased to be a “free and independent state.” “Die Ankunft” in Arbeiterzeitung, 16 Dec. 1922, p. 3.

[3] Tony Judt has argued similarly that it were domestic goals of change and reform that motivated most European statesmen to embrace the rhetoric of a united continent after 1945. See, Tony Judt, A Grand Illusion? An Essay on Europe (New York: NYU Press, 2011), p. 4.

[4] “Es ist ja auch Ihnen, hochverehrter Herr Minister bekannt, dass die wirtschaftliche Lage unseres Landes es unbedingt erforderlich erscheinen lässt, unseren heimischen Unternehmungen fremdes, wenn möglich westländisches Kapital zuzuführen. Nur mit Hilfe der billiger verzinslichen ausländischen Gelder wird es möglich sein, durch Investitionen die Productionsfähigkeit unserer Industrie auf eine konkurrenzfähige Höhe zu bringen.“ Vienna Chamber of Commerce to Minister Franckenstein, 26 Jun. 1924. Archiv der Republik, 01/9, Box 102.

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The Colonial Origins of the Greek Bailout


Good recent piece on Greek debt and colonial history, the League of Nations etc.

Originally posted on Imperial & Global Forum:

not merkel's colony

Jamie Martin
Harvard University
Follow on Twitter @jamiemartin2

When news broke two weeks ago of the harsh terms of a new bailout for Greece, many questioned whether the country still qualified as a sovereign state. “Debt colony,” a term long used by Syriza and its supporters, was suddenly everywhere in the press. Even the Financial Times used the language of empire: “a bailout on the terms set out in Brussels,” as a 13 July editorial put it, “risks turning the relationship with Greece into one akin to that between a colonial overlord and its vassal.”

Suggestions like these have invited historical comparison. One parallel that’s been mentioned is that of Egypt during the late nineteenth century. In 1876, as a heavily indebted Egypt approached bankruptcy, the Khedive Ismail Pasha agreed to the creation of an international commission, staffed by Europeans, with oversight of the Egyptian budget and control over certain…

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MA Student Research Day, 8 June 2015, 11 AM.

We’re very pleased to announce a research day for the excellent dissertation projects of our students in the MA Contemporary History, MA Global History and MA in Modern British Studies.

Monday June 8, in the Whitting Room on the 4th Floor of the Arts Building from 11-15:30h.

All are welcome.


  • 11h Welcome/Introductory Comments (Organizers)
  • 11:20h: Charlie Marriott, (MA Contemporary), “The Future of Poland in Allied Eyes”
  • 11:40: Fraser Sutherland, (MA Contemporary), “Popular Culture of the Post-punk Era in Britain: 1978-82”
  • 12h: William Gale, (MA Contemporary), “British Steel Workers: Nostalgia for the ‘Ideal Type’ of Working Class, 1945-1983”
  • 12:20h: Emma Barrett, (MA Contemporary), “Political Bankers, Financial Politicians: Examining the Intellectual Rationale behind Thatcher’s Financial Revolution, 1979-1986
  • 12:40h: Shahmima Akhtar (MA Global History) “The Exhibition of the Irish in the Village of Ballymaclinton from 1907-1924 – Ireland’s Exhibitions”

13h Lunch

  • 14:00h: Edmund Bradbury (MA Global History) “Pirates, Politics and the ‘Passive’ Western Indian Ocean – To what extent did communities and states engage with the Western Indian Ocean as a political theater prior to the arrival of the Portuguese in 1498?
  • 14:20h Daniel Giangrande (MA Global History) Title TBC
  • 14:40h Lee Potts (MA Global History) “Italian American Migrations 1880-1930”
  • 15h George Harvey (MA Modern British Studies) “What the hell am I doing here: Gender, Music Videos and Britpop, 1994-1997
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The rise and rise of Recep Tayyip Erdogan – and a slide towards autocracy in Turkey

The rise and rise of Recep Tayyip Erdogan – and a slide towards autocracy in Turkey

Mustafa Coban, University of Birmingham

Ever since Recep Tayyip Erdogan moved from being prime minister to president of Turkey in 2014, the country’s politics have continued an alarming drift towards autocracy. Erdogan has taken his strong party identity and command-and-control style with him – and is seriously eroding the nation’s checks and balances on personal power.

Turkey’s various presidents have been men of party political and military backgrounds alike. Though it would be naïve to suggest that none of them had any pre-existing political agenda, the record of direct party political manoeuvring is scant.

The previous president, Abdullah Gül was often condemned for his uncritical ratification of legislation passed by parliament, but in general he made an effort to stay above party politics – Gül and Erdogan shared a background in the conservative Justice and Development Party (AKP). Gül’s predecessor, former constitutional court judge Ahmet Necdet Sezer, was a firm check on the early years of AKP governments.

But things are different now. The structures that hold back the increasing authority of Erdogan and his party have been under attack for some time – and Erdogan may be on the brink of finally overwhelming them. He is quite openly manouvering to concentrate power in his person rather than the office he holds, and he has been doing so for some time.

Hands on

The Gezi Park demonstrations in May and June 2013, for instance, were sparked in part by his arrogant statements on municipal issues in Istanbul, blithely overriding the governor, mayor and city council.

When a massive corruption scandal broke in December 2013, Erdogan became combative. Wiretaps were released implicating AKP ministers, Erdogan and their sons in wide-scale embezzlement. Erdogan first dismissed the wiretaps as forgeries, then held them up as evidence of a conspiracy.

But ultimately, any “conspiracy” against him clearly failed, as 25 police officers and various others were arrested in raids against those who instituted the wiretaps in the first place.

This was just one of many attempts to reign Erdogan that have failed. After the wiretap scandal, he not only bounced back, but campaigned to great effect in the municipal elections of March 2014, sometimes appearing simultaneously in different places by way of a hologram. And despite the previous year’s upheavals the AKP won a majority across the country.

Erdogan appears in hologram form in 2014.

Neither Erdogan’s overreach nor evidence of corruption moved the electorate against the AKP. The verdict seemed to be “they steal, but they work hard,” in contrast to previous more secular-minded governments which were also accused of corruption, but were not seen to be working for the good of the country.

And while the AKP certainly benefited from heavily favourable coverage by the state broadcaster TRT, the charisma and personal power of Erdogan himself was also a major factor. Any attack on Erdogan simply seems to galvanise his supporters behind him.

Rallying the troops

Now Erdogan is president, not prime minister, he is meant to be on a much tighter leash. Article 101 of the Turkish constitution makes it explicit that the president must sever all connections with their party. But Erdogan is not just flouting this core requirement; he is openly campaigning for his party in the run-up to the 2015 general election.

So far, Erdogan has already addressed voters in a number of cities, including Denizli, Gaziantep, and most recently the capital Ankara.

Erdogan has also been giving a series of lectures to “muhtars“, village and neighbourhood officials who are elected but not affiliated with political parties. Since these officials have local influence and a role in registering voters, recruiting them to a party political agenda is also against the law.

Most shockingly of all, Erdogan has actually started asking the electorate to return 400 MPs for the AKP, which would provide the AKP government with the majority it needs to unilaterally amend the constitution. For the president to make this plea at all is illegal.

Regardless of what happens in the election, substantial damage has already been done. The previously ceremonial chair of the presidency is rapidly being turned into a powerful executive post, drawing influence and authority from a Parliament subservient to the person rather than the institution.

Little stands in Erdogan’s way. He chose his successor as PM, Ahmet Davutoğlu, precisely for his malleability, and Turkey’s moves towards a police state bear Erdogan’s fingerprints.

It is not inconceivable that if they were elected, 400 AKP members of parliament (out of a total of 550) under the de facto leadership of Erdogan could vote to rewrite the constitution and overnight make his currently illegal electioneering legal – and along with it, his radical effort to gather ever more unaccountable power for himself.

The Conversation

This article was originally published on The Conversation.
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University Politics in Japan

Japanese universities struggle to find their place in the world

Shigeru Okayama, Waseda University

Japanese universities may have been born out of European models, but they have set down their own firm foundations since the opening of the University of Tokyo in 1877.

The higher education system in Japan is a hybrid one, with public and private universities, both regulated by the state. There were 86 national universities and 603 private universities in Japan in 2014. Add to these 92 municipal universities and there were a total of 781 universities. But this national system is in crisis today: the government and the minister of education has focused on improving Japan’s place within the global system of higher education, and last year announced extra funding available for “superglobal” universities.

A political push to get ten Japanese universities into the list of the top 100 best universities in the world by 2024 is unlikely to improve the situation, with universities still suffering from financial difficulties. Tuition fees are rising year by year and scholarships act as a system of loans to cover this. For example, for the first year of politics and society at Waseda, a private university, students must pay 1,300,000 yen, or £7,275. For a national university, the price would be closer to 680,000 yen.

Troubled relationship

It’s worth looking back at where Japanese universities came from to understand the predicament they face today. The French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu wrote about the nobility of the Japanese state, dating back to the eighth century and stretching to the 20th century. According to him, the Meiji restoration of the 1860s was a conservative one, started by the Samorai with few resources in an effort to transform the symbol of the nobility – its bureaucratic civil service.

To understand the continuing role of nobility in Japanese higher education today, it’s important to understand the relationship between Japanese and foreign languages. Before the Meiji period, the Japanese were inspired purely by a Chinese model of written language: in the far east, the equivalent of Latin for Europeans was Chinese. In Japan, people read Chinese and pronounced it in a Japanese way, remodelling the words with a Japanese syntax.

In 1877, the University of Tokyo was created, allowing foreign professors to teach in their own language. As a prerequisite to their course, students had to learn a foreign language for three years. After their studies in the university, they were sent abroad by the state to deepen their knowledge and then became teachers on their return, this time teaching in Japanese. This was the way through which the Meiji government wanted to modernise the country and assure its independence.

With enough educated people to carry out higher education, Japan didn’t need to resort to foreign teachers. A second phase began, started by the creation of the Imperial University in 1886 in which teaching was all in Japanese and foreign language as a means of education was excluded.

Japanese writer Natsume Soseki.

The reality of this priority soon became clear to Japanese academics. Soseki Natsume, an English literature professor at the Imperial University of Tokyo, was one of the first victims of this Japanese cultural system. When he was sent to England in 1901 by the state for his studies, he suffered a nervous breakdown, because he couldn’t adapt to life in London. When he returned, he quit his post of teacher and chose to become a novelist. But it’s thanks to him that modern Japanese literature became possible. After the end of the Meiji era in 1912, passing through the Taisho era, and then into the Showa in 1926, the culture of translations from European languages into Japanese blossomed. We could call this the creation of the Japanese “Bildung”, in reference to the ideal of education as a form of self-cultivation set down by German educationalist Wilhelm von Humboldt in his conception of the modern university.

Swing towards an ‘English divide’

This cultural space for Japanese people was ideologically very closed. The majority of universities and intellectuals of the time couldn’t criticise the authority of the imperial regime. After World War II, the pre-war university system was totally revised, but the Japanese space for language stayed the same. American democracy hadn’t succeeded in transforming the country. The expansion of the higher education system in Japan, built on a vague idea of a university open to everybody, has actually just multiplied the number of private universities in the country.

But since the 1990s, a third stage has started. It’s now English which has become a hegemony. If you can’t speak English, you have become a second class citizen. We speak in Japan today of an “English divide” to explain this predicament, in the same way we talk of a digital divide.

The universities where the Japanese students are taught in English are considered more excellent. Admittedly there is a chance that Japanese higher education is finally opening up to the wider world, but it also presents a great menace to Japanese culture.

It’s worth remembering that the idea of the university was founded on the basis of a Christian religion. The modern university was conceived by Humboldt to exist as a universal, secular institution, normally detached from all sort of religious symbolism. A lot has changed since then, but I’d argue that the origins for education to remain free and to offer scholarships for all students, must stay alive. If Japanese universities are now suffering the policy of “globalisation”, it’s because the country’s higher education system largely side-stepped this historic basis of its universities.

This article is part of a series on Universities at the crossroads.

The Conversation

This article was originally published on The Conversation.
Read the original article.

Spring 2015 Week 10 Seminar: Matthew Francis: Mrs Thatcher’s Peacock Blue Sari: Ethnic Minorities, Electoral Politics, and the Conservative Party, c.1951-1986.

The Week 10 Modern and Contemporary History Research Seminar is on Wednesday 18 March 2015, at 17:15h in the Rodney Hilton Library (note change from usual time). It will be delivered by:

Matthew Francis (Birmingham)

Aperçu de « Microsoft Word - Francis.M&C.Poster.docx »All are welcome and there will be drinks.

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