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This article has been accepted for publication and will appear in a revised form, subsequent to peer review and/or editorial input by Cambridge University Press, in Journal of British Studies published by Cambridge University Press. Copyright Cambridge University Press. ; During the First World War, all the belligerent powers interned both civilian and military prisoners. In Britain alone, over 100,000 people were held behind barbed wire. Despite the scale of this enterprise, interment barely features in Britain's First World War memory culture. By exploring the place of prisoner of war camps within the "militarized environment" of the home front, this article demonstrates the centrality of internment to local wartime experiences. Being forced to share the same environment meant that both British civilians and German prisoners clashed over access to resources, roads and the surrounding landscape. As the article contends, it was only when the British started to employ the prisoners on environmental improvement measures, such as land drainage or river clearance projects, that relations gradually improved. With the end of the war and closure of the camps, however, these deep entanglements were quickly forgotten. Instead of commemorating the complexities of the conflict, Britain's memory culture focused on more comfortable narratives; British military "sacrifice" on the Western Front quickly replaced any discussion of the internment of the "enemy" at home.

This book is the first to offer a full account of the varied contributions of German Jews to Imperial Germany's endeavors during the Great War. Historian Tim Grady examines the efforts of the 100,000 Jewish soldiers who served in the German military (12,000 of whom died), as well as the various activities Jewish communities supported at home, such as raising funds for the war effort and securing vital food supplies. However, Grady's research goes much deeper: he shows that German Jews were never at the periphery of Germany's warfare, but were in fact heavily involved.

The division of Germany into two militarized blocs during the Cold War fundamentally shaped the lives of people living in both East and West. Yet, as recent scholarship has increasingly highlighted, there were also numerous areas of contact and interaction, whether in the cultural, political or social sphere. One largely overlooked aspect of these Cold War relations, which this article explores, is the environment. Focusing on the history of the shared German environment from the end of the Second World War through to the early 1970s, the article argues that on a local level, environmental problems helped to ensure the survival of cross-border relations. Despite their repeated efforts, the two states failed to divide the German landscape in half. Rivers, lakes and forests continually crossed the fortified border, while animals and plant life traversed from one side to the other too. In attempting to maintain this shared border landscape, East and West Germans were repeatedly forced into dialogue. Although relations gradually faded as the border regime was strengthened, it proved impossible for either side to escape fully the entangled German environment.

There has been an increasing recognition in recent historical writing that the late 1950s and early 1960s marked a significant shift in West German society's relationship to the Nazi past. Yet the older more conservative generation that dominated West Germany's politics of confronting the past in the immediate post-war years are largely absent from these narratives. Focusing on the actions of the Federal Republic's staunchly conservative Defence Minister, Franz Josef Strauß, this article argues that even the conservative establishment played a significant role in West Germany's evolving memory culture. In the early 1960s, Strauß promoted the republication of a book of German-Jewish soldiers' war letters from the First World War. The collection enabled him to portray a different side of West Germany at a time when attention had focused back onto the crimes of the Nazi era. Despite this opportunism, the article contends that Strauß's support for the new book encouraged other conservative institutions to engage more fully with the recent past.

European Fascist Movements: An Introduction -- 1 Italy -- 2 Germany -- 3 Austria -- 4 Belgium -- 5 Britain -- 6 Croats -- 7 Finland -- 8 France -- 9 Hungary -- 10 Ireland -- 11 Latvia -- 12 The Netherlands -- 13 Romania -- 14 Slovaks -- 15 Spain -- 16 Czechoslovakia's Germans -- 17 Sweden -- 18 Ukrainians -- Index.

This book examines the particular experience of ethnic, religious and national minorities who participated in the First World War as members of the main belligerent powers: Britain, France, Germany and Russia. Individual chapters explore themes including contested loyalties, internment, refugees, racial violence, genocide and disputed memories from 1914 through into the interwar years to explore how minorities made the transition from war to peace at the end of the First World War. The first section discusses so-called 'friendly minorities', considering the way in which Jews, Muslims and refugees lived through the war and its aftermath. Section two looks at fears of 'enemy aliens', which prompted not only widespread internment, but also violence and genocide. The third section considers how the wartime experience of minorities played out in interwar Europe, exploring debates over political representation and remembrance, thereby bridging the gap between war and peace

Against the backdrop of the First World War centenary, the introduction considers the place of minority groups in Europe's commemorative plans. It argues that the governments of Britain, France and Germany have largely stuck to conventional narratives of the conflict, which have for the most part ignored diversity. Within local communities, however, far more innovative work has taken place; some of which has uncovered the variety of spaces that minority soldiers and civilians occupied during the First World War. The introduction concludes by considering historical writing on minorities in conflict and by outlining the agenda for this current volume.

Recent years have witnessed growing scholarly interest in the history of death. Increasing academic attention toward death as a historical subject in its own right is very much linked to its pre-eminent place in 20th-century history, and Germany, predictably, occupies a special place in these inquiries. This collection of essays explores how German mourning changed over the 20th century in different contexts, with a particular view to how death was linked to larger issues of social order and cultural self-understanding. It contributes to a history of death in 20th-century Germany that does not begin and end with the Third Reich