Suchergebnisse

Cover -- Half Title -- Title Page -- Copyright Page -- Original Title Page -- Original Copyright Page -- Table of Contents -- INTRODUCTION -- 1 NATIONALIST AND REGIONAL POLITICS -- 2 THE NON-COOPERATION EXPERIMENT -- 3 THE SWARAJISTS' DILEMMA -- 4 CONFRONTATION -- 5 COALESCENCE -- 6 RAPPROCHEMENT -- References -- Bibliography -- Biographical Notes -- Glossary -- Index

Toxic Histories combines social, scientific, medical and environmental history to demonstrate the critical importance of poison and pollution to colonial governance, scientific authority and public anxiety in India between the 1830s and 1950s. Against the background of India's 'poison culture' and periodic 'poison panics', David Arnold considers why many familiar substances came to be regarded under colonialism as dangerous poisons. As well as the criminal uses of poison, Toxic Histories shows how European and Indian scientists were instrumental in creating a distinctive system of forensic toxicology and medical jurisprudence designed for Indian needs and conditions, and how local, as well as universal, poison knowledge could serve constructive scientific and medical purposes. Arnold reflects on how the 'fear of a poisoned world' spilt over into concerns about contamination and pollution, giving ideas of toxicity a wider social and political significance that has continued into India's postcolonial era

India's technological imaginary -- Modernizing goods -- Technology, race, and gender -- Swadeshi machines -- Technology and well-being -- Everyday technology and the modern state -- Epilogue: The god of small things

"In 1909 Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, on his way back to South Africa from London, wrote his now celebrated tract Hind Swaraj, laying out his vision for the future of India and famously rejecting the technological innovations of Western civilization. Despite his protestations, Western technology endured and helped to make India one of the leading economies in our globalized world. Few would question the dominant role that technology plays in modern life, but to fully understand how India first advanced into technological modernity, argues David Arnold, we must consider the technology of the everyday. Everyday Technology is a pioneering account of how small machines and consumer goods that originated in Europe and North America became objects of everyday use in India in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Rather than investigate 'big' technologies such as railways and irrigation projects, Arnold examines the assimilation and appropriation of bicycles, rice mills, sewing machines, and typewriters in India, and follows their impact on the ways in which people worked and traveled, the clothes they wore, and the kind of food they ate. But the effects of these machines were not limited to the daily rituals of Indian society, and Arnold demonstrates how such small-scale technologies became integral to new ways of thinking about class, race, and gender, as well as about the politics of colonial rule and Indian nationhood. Arnold's fascinating book offers new perspectives on the globalization of modern technologies and shows us that to truly understand what modernity became, we need to look at the everyday experiences of people in all walks of life, taking stock of how they repurposed small technologies to reinvent their world and themselves"--Provided by publisher.

From politicians to physicians, the opening years of India's plague epidemic (1896–1900) have conventionally been treated as a male-dominated sphere of activity. This article argues for the centrality of female actors—as doctors, nurses and 'ward ayahs'—and across the social spectrum from dalits to Europeans. Photography demonstrates the prominence and diversity of women's plague roles; it helps to complicate a text-based narrative of plague at the intersection of gender, race, class and colonialism. Images augment and not merely document. The value of combining visual and textual sources is underscored by focusing on a single institution, the General Plague Hospital in Poona (Pune) and on a woman doctor, Marion Hunter, whose photographic presence and whose views in and after India highlight the tensions and contradictions of a gendered as well as racialised imperial presence.