Suchergebnisse

The revolt of the Red sailors at the Kronstadt naval base near Petrograd, 1–18 March 1921, constituted a major threat to the new, unstable, and economically destitute Soviet régime in Russia. Although other uprisings against Soviet power had been successfully suppressed, this revolt of the Red sailors, among the foremost supporters of the Bolshevik seizure of authority on 25 October (N.S., 7 November) 1917, was a severe blow to Soviet prestige at home and abroad. Because of their popularity, the government was apprehensive about depending upon regular Soviet troops to suppress the uprising. Its predicament has been substantiated, for the first time, by Soviet Marshal Ivan S. Konev in his 'Reminiscences', where he admits that some Soviet trainees and artillerymen refused outright to fire on their rebel comrades.

ABSTRACT:In contrast to North American cities, numerically named streets are a very rare occurrence in Europe. This article explores the exceptions to this rule by charting the history of street numbering in 10 European countries. The medieval and early modern 'new towns' of New Winchelsea, Mannheim and a section of St Petersburg (Vasilievsky Island) were each designed with grid-plan layouts in which the streets were identified according to an alphanumerical system. Although a range of gridiron plans have been subsequently built across the continent, the newer instances of street numbering are characteristically inconspicuous and peripherally located in suburbs or industrial estates. As a result, most European cases of street numbering play a limited role in constituting the broader urban fabric of the streetscape, with the exception of cities such as Milton Keynes that conform more to the North American model. The relative absence of street-numbering plans in European cities can largely be explained by the much longer history of urbanism in Europe compared to North America and, above all else, the privileging of the nationalistic-pedagogic imperative to name streets with the aim of instilling historical 'lessons', which has left little room for the use of street numbering as a means of rationalizing the spatial organization of European cities.

This article surveys the development of Canadian Studies in Czechoslovakia/the Czech Republic from 1985 (the year the first such course was offered at a Czech university) down to the present. It also deals with the wider context of the development of Canadian Studies in Central Europe under the aegis of the Central European Association for Canadian Studies, established in 2003 with its Secretariat located at Masaryk University, Brno. In both the Czech Republic and the wider region, the late 1990s saw a steady growth in Canadian Studies, fostered by financial support from the Canadian government and outreach activities by Western European Canadian Studies associations. The first decade of the twenty-first century saw an explosion of activities - many new courses and degree programmes, conferences and specialized seminars, international projects, publications, the launching of the Central European Journal for Canadian Studies. The century's second decade, however, has witnessed retrenchment, the result of systemic changes in higher education systems and the Canadian government's cancellation of all support for Canadian Studies activities in 2012. Nevertheless, in both the Czech Republic and Central Europe, Canadian Studies continues to enjoy a significant and respected presence in the higher education sphere.

"The eleven essays in this volume explore the surprising resilience of productive instabilities enclosed in historical asymmetries, cultural paradoxes, and misplaced topographies. The recent history of Central Europe - a history that vividly blurs the line between imagination and reality - is a particularly vibrant case study of such dynamics, the same dynamics that lie at the heart of modern perception. It investigates how varied and opposing tendencies co-exist and are transposed from one cultural and temporal register to another; how they emerge and are maintained in constantly renewed, productive tensions - what we call 'inhabited ruins.' Along the way the reader will encounter music from the Terezin concentration camp as a reversed Potemkin village, the BMW as an itinerant lieu de memoire, Mies van der Rohe's architecture as spaces belonging nowhere, anxious geographies, extra-territorial sounds, misremembered avant-gardes, and post-apocalyptic identities that fell out of time"--